Page 6 of Bonds of Obsession

But even as the words come out, I can feel myself starting to sag against my chains. I’m in rough fucking shape, and I belatedly notice that my body is trembling involuntarily from the aftershocks of the electricity. My vision darkens, and for a moment, I think I might pass out. But then a sharp sting across my face snaps me back to reality.

Ambrose looks at me expectantly, his hand still raised from the slap. “Stay with me now. Can’t have you checking out just yet.”

I blink and look up at the ceiling, trying to focus. As my vision clears, I notice something I hadn’t before. The chain holding me up is attached to a hook on the ceiling, and it looks… loose. If I can just get enough leverage…

“You know,” Ambrose continues, oblivious to my newfound hope, “I need you alive. That’s why I had someone patch up that little chest wound of yours. Couldn’t have you bleeding out before I got what I needed.”

I force myself to meet his gaze, buying time as I test the strength in my arms. “How considerate of you.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice. “Oh, I can be very considerate when I want to be. I even made sure they gave you some antibiotics. Infection’s a bitch, you know.”

As he rambles on, I start to slowly, carefully shift my weight. If I can just lift myself up enough…

I wince as the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through my body. I need to buy myself some more time if I’m really going to do something about this loose hook.

Good thing my captor seems to be in a talkative mood.

“You know,” I groan, making a show of twisting around and trembling just a little more than I need to in order to fully test this chain, “this is a hell of a lot of trouble to go through. For what? To join some mafia organization?”

I pause, catching my breath. The effort from speaking and moving at the same time is almost too much, but I force myself to continue. “How can that possibly be worth all this?”

Ambrose’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think I’ve struck a nerve. But then his lips curl into that infuriating smirk again.

“Oh, Atlas,” he says, shaking his head like he’s talking to a child. “You really do have more muscles than brains, don’t you? The Dark Lotus Syndicate isn’t just some mafia organization.” His eyes dance in a creepy, power-hungry sort of way for a moment before he schools his features again. “It’s the key to a kind of power that most petty criminals like you only dream about.”

I bristle at being called a petty criminal, but I bite back the smart-ass reply that’s on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I just try to keep him talking for a little while longer.

“Power?” I ask. And yeah, I guess he’s piqued my curiosity, although I’ll be damned if I’m going to admit it out loud. “What kind of power?”

“More than I’ve ever had before. More than your simple mind can comprehend. More than I had even before I was locked up.”

He seems to really be warming to the topic now, and I don’t even have to ask him to continue this time. “Oh, yes. I was on my way to the top in Detroit. Had my fingers in every pie, knew all the right people. I was this close,” he holds up his thumb and forefinger, barely an inch apart, “to running the whole damn city.”

He starts pacing, his agitation clear in every step. “Then I got sent away. One stupid mistake, and everything I’d built camecrashing down.” His fists clench at his sides. “By the time I got out, it was all gone. My connections, my influence, everything.”

I can hear the bitterness in his voice, see the way his jaw clenches as he speaks. It’s almost enough to make me feel sorry for the bastard.

Almost.

“But now?” His eyes meet mine, and there’s that manic gleam in them again. “Now I have a chance at something even bigger. The Dark Lotus Syndicate isn’t just about running a city, Atlas. It’s about controlling entire countries from the shadows.”

He leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. “They have their tendrils in everything. Politics, finance, law enforcement. You name it, they have access at the highest levels. And once I’m in, all that delicious access will literally be at my fingertips.”

It’s hard not to look at him like he’s fucking crazy. I’ve seen men hungry for power before, but this? This is something else entirely. He’s already fully corrupted by just the thought of that kind of power.

He’s the last person who needs to have access to it.

“And all you have to do is torture and kill to get it, right?” I grunt. “Even when the people involved haven’t done shit to you.”

“See? Such a simple, naive mind.” Ambrose just laughs. “Surely you’ve learned this lesson by now, haven’t you? In this world, you either have power or you’re crushed beneath it. I’ve been on both sides, and I know which one I prefer.”

I’ve had about enough of his patronizing bullshit. Not to mention the fact that his speech about power and control makes my fucking skin crawl. Still, I force myself to focus. I need to keep him talking so I can buy myself more time. Even another minute or two could make or break this little plan of mine.

“And Quinn?” I ask. “What do you plan on doing with her after she’s given you what you want?”

“Quinn? I wouldn’t worry too much about her if I were you. She’s just a means to an end. Once she’s given me what I want, well…” He trails off with that fucking condescending smirk, leaving the implications hanging in the air.

My blood boils at the thought of him using her, hurting her. I might be half-dead, but I’ll still happily tear this motherfucker apart limb by limb if I get half a chance. “If you lay a finger on her, I swear?—”

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