Page 181 of Hell and High Water

“I won’t kill my ticket to success. But I will kill him if you resist.”

And just like that, every ounce of fight goes out of me, watching Tell’s labored breathing, the twitch of his hand as he reaches for me. I can’t bear it.

The thought of him not existing.

Even as I fight off the sinking dread that Gavin and Evan might be gone. If they are, Tell is all that’s left of my soul.

So I crouch, kissing his cheek softly. Kissing him goodbye.

“H–Hell. No?—”

“Shh. It’ll be okay. I love you.”

Next thing I know, I’m in the back of a car, speeding through the mountains, vaguely aware that we’re leaving town through a back route. Something inside me tries to rise up, tries to force me to acknowledge this horror.

But I won't break. I won't cry. Not yet.

I doze off on the drive, waking as the sun is rising over much flatter horizons, arid, desert looking landscape. The car slows, pulling into a massive walled estate. Everywhere I look, vibrant plant life graces the inside of the compound.

All of it falls on blind eyes, fading to black and white.

The air tastes like ash in my mouth.

“Welcome home, Elena. My dear, it's so good to see you back where you belong.”

I glare at Marco, gritting my teeth. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. Or of seeing me break ever again.

But I can’t speak. There's too many years of hurt and sorrow and pain between us. And the promise of more nightmares to come.

Leading me inside, into the cool confines of the foyer, he looks back like he’s my host, graciously touring me through his home.

“You’ll come to like it here, I am certain. You can have anything you desire. Just like the people of your home. When the people of your town are offered assistance, food, shelter, they’ll come around to my way of leading. Especially when the help comes alongside one of their own. A woman they trust. And they’ll be even more grateful when you explain to them where the helping hand came from. That this has all been a misunderstanding. The Sinful let them suffer, betrayed them. And we only fought to set them free, you and I.”

The excuse is hollow, unbelievable.

And completely digestible when fed to desperate victims just trying to survive.

“We’ll offer them a return to normalcy. Things can go back to the way they were. Once I get what I want, they can live their miserable lives again.”

“And what do you want?” But I already know.

“The wealth beneath the city, Elena. And the labor of the people to mine it for me.”

“No one will willingly become your slaves. People will fight back.”

“I don’t think they will. You see, most of the rabble simply want to be given a purpose. Given a wage. Sustenance. And if there is fear and respect linked to those privileges, it’s a relationship that borders on unshakable.

“You’ll see. You will come to feel that same way about me.”

“I came with you to spare my friends. My family. But I will never want this. I will never love you as my father, you vile tyrant.”

“No. I wouldn’t ask that of you. That possibility fled years ago with a foolish girl on a bus. Now, I see a woman. A woman who makes hard choices, who can choose to do anything she must.”

A little voice deep inside me screams, driven to madness by what I think he’s leading up to.

“Everything in life can be forced into perspective, Elena. We define our perception. Our reality. Your mother could never see through to the end result, the bigger picture. She was weak. If she could have risen above her mewling and begging for me to stop being who I am, to show mercy, she might have become my queen, the matron monarch of the empire I’m building.”

“You’re mad.”

---