Page 36 of It Will Always Be You
“Dry your eyes. I get worse injuries just working in our clubs half the time,” Seamus adds with a roll of his eyes.
“Gentlemen. How about we bench this childish behaviour and focus on the issue at hand?” Salvatore drones as he dusts off his suit before taking a seat again. Raising an eyebrow in challenge, he waits for us all to grudgingly take our seats again.
“What do you propose? We have a heart to heart about his evil ways?” I snort. Maxim does an awful job at covering his laugh with a cough to my left, drawing a glare from Salvatore before he continues.
“What I propose is that we handle this little problem before it spirals any further.” At his calm words, the room freezes. I glance at Maxim first, his heavy brows a dark slash across his forehead. Givenhe hasn’t outright scoffed at Salvatore’s suggestion, I’d say he’s leaning towards being on board. Fucker never could control his bloodlust; he’s worse than a drunk trying to control their bladder. Li, on the other hand…
“I don’t have time for this shit. You three might have time to burn, but I do not. I’ve a cocaine empire to run.” He sneers, making to get up, only to be stopped by Salvatore’s next words.
“And I’ve a heroin empire and numerous vineyards to take care of, yet I still have time to get rid of a threat. It’s called delegating, or is the Triad so weak, you can’t do that?”
“Come on, Li. Face it. Your precious cocaine isn’t what it used to be, and everyone knows your heroin and wine are the best in the business, Salvatore, but let’s be real for a second. They’re out of most people’s price ranges, and don’t get me started on how niche the weapons trade is. Angus might be a bastard, but his party drugs rake in more than our endeavours have in years. Now, if we took him out…” I drawl, leaning back in my chair and flicking my eyes over each man in turn. I watch as my words land, seeds taking root.
“I’m in. When do we do this? I can set one of my snipers on his tail.” Trust Maxim, a Bravata Pakhan to his core, to be the first to sign up for bloodshed.
Sighing, I shake my head before continuing. “It’s not that simple. We need to go about this the right way, unless you want his men gunning for us. We also need to get to the bottom of what shit he’s involved in before it blows up in our faces.”
“So, we take it slow. We investigate, keep our ears to the ground, keep each other updated on anything we find and revisit this next quarter, yes?” Salvatore’s suggestion is met with some grumbles, but at the end of the day, it’s the best plan we have. With a dip of my chin, I raise my glass in silent agreement.
“Let the games begin,” Jianyu declares gleefully before tipping back his drink, nodding at Jun, and leaving.
Angus’ takedown is long overdue.
Let the games begin, indeed.
Chapter 33
1,460 days in captivity
Hot, stale breath washes over my face. With a frown, I try to twist away from it, not wanting to leave my dreams behind just yet. It’s getting harder and harder to conjure up Cora’s face, and it’s near impossible to remember what being held in Jonathan’s arms feels like. The urge to burrow deeper into them while I can is a physical ache that nothing can alleviate.
“Rise and shine, 103,” Kyle taunts, tugging the ends of my hair. Reluctantly, I pry open my eyes, only to choke on a startled scream at his proximity. His face is mere inches from mine; so close, I can count the freckles across the bridge of his nose and pick up on the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. The smell of stale coffee and bourbon clings to his breath as he sneers at my horrified expression.
“Ah, there’s my pretty pet. Come on, today’s a special day.” He tells me as he frees my wrists from their restraints before moving lower and freeing my ankles. Pins and needles race through the muscles as sensation floods back in. Rotating my wrists to alleviate the pain, I keep my eyes trained on Kyle as he keeps up a steady stream of condescendingsmall talk, gathering a length of rope before turning back to me.
Tutting at the fact I haven’t moved, he yanks me up by my shoulder before looping the rope through the ‘o’ ring in my collar. Standing back, he smiles at the sight before tugging the rope, forcing me to my feet. I don’t so much as flinch when he squeezes my ass, pulling my body into his and grinding his hardness against me.
“Come along. There’s no time to waste.” His sickly happy, slightly manic tone has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. It’s been a while since our last visitor, and I hope that’s not about to change. My ribs have seemingly healed, but the thought of playing the role of punching bag so soon has them twinging with phantom pain.
“What’s today, sir?” The words taste like ash as I grit them out, but prolonged silence on my end only serves to rile him up. The last time I let him prattle on with no input resulted in a fractured wrist that still twinges. The time before that, he burned off my pubic hair. Needless to say, I’ve learnt to pick my battles now.
“I’m so glad you asked, pet. Today’s our anniversary. Four years together, isn’t that wonderful?” He turns to face me, a cocky smile painted on his face. The implication is clear: anything other than an enthusiastic yes is the wrong answer. And yet, how can he expect me to say four years of daily abuse, rape, and captivity is wonderful?
Four years I’ll never get back, even if I do find a way out of here.
Four years of scars I’ll carry with me forever.
Four years of nightmares disguised as reality.
My silence drags on, and slowly, his smile fades and twists into something ugly. A twisted sneer would unnerve me if I weren’t so used to seeing it by now. But what never fails to unnerve me is just how quick he can flick the switch. In an instant, the slightly manic but chipper man is gone, and in his place is a man with evil behind his eyes and a snarl on his face as he backs me into the wall.
Boxing me in, he leans so close, I can smell the bourbon on his breath as he snarls, “I. Said. Isn’t. It. Wonderful?” Spittle hits my cheek with every word, and the revulsion crawling through me makes keepinga straight face even harder than normal.
“Y—yes,” I manage to choke out, doing my best to force a smile on my lips when all they want to do is curl back and flash my teeth at him. What I wouldn’t give to rip his throat out with my bare teeth, to feel his blood splatter on my skin and know with every fibre of my being that I’m free, to watch the life drain out of him slowly, to repay every awful thing he’s done to me in kind. Would that make me a monster? Or would my actions be just and pardoned in a court of law in a way his never would be? Would my bloodlust be sated, or would it unleash a side of me born from agony and fear? These questions plague me daily, but the answers never come.
“That’s more like it. Now, come along.” In a blink, he’s back to his chipper if not manic persona as, with a tug to the rope, he continues leading me out of the dark, dank basement and up to the main house. For a moment, my feet are frozen in shock, eyes firmly glued to his back, waiting for him to realise his slip up. Only, he never does, and I stumble to follow him before he clocks the fact I haven’t moved.
For the first time since I’ve been here, he’s forgone the blindfold. Swallowing down my shock, I catalogue every inch of the house as we pass through a sparsely decorated living room towards the kitchen. Seeing the front door covered in a maze of locks and the bars across each of the windows, my heart kicks up a notch. Looking over his shoulder, he flashes me a smirk. Biting my tongue against the retort he’s clearly waiting for, I plaster a demure smile on my face instead and flick my eyes to the floor as we get ever closer to the heavenly smell of food. My mouth waters and my stomach grumbles, but I know better than to get my hopes up. One of his favourite forms of torture is to tease me with what I can’t have.
