Page 156 of Unspoken Lies
“Then I started selling to the people that I knew would use it in clubs. The cops have been trying to catch me, closing in, while I leave breadcrumbs so they’ll think it’s the great Emil,” he says. “He can join his son in prison.”
Tiny Dick’s information sources must not know that Ignacio has been hunting him and has been out of prison. Idiot.
My vision is beginning to darken, the drugs and the concussion I have are taking their toll.
“Hey bitch,” Tiny dick snaps his goddamned fingers in my face, and I have a sudden urge to bite them off. Snarling, I glare at him and his eight fucking heads.
God, I really don’t feel good.
“What do you want, Tiny Dick,” I rasp, my filter quickly unraveling.
“What did you call me,puta?” he asks, standing to backhand me.
A knife flies through the air into the back of his hand before he can touch me, his hiss of pain turning his head toward the door.
“I think you need to learn some manners,” Liliana says as she crosses the cellar floor, her boots heavy as she moves.
Tiny Dick snarls as he pulls the knife from his hand, the blood spraying over my skin. I didn’t notice when he put his own knife away, but it’s not surprising with how out of it I am.
“You’re just in time to watch me kill your whore,” he says, tired of games. His hand raises to stab my chest, and I react instinctively, rocking backward to push the chair back. As I fly up, the seat knocks the knife out of his hand to give Liliana the ability to push him away from me.
I gasp as I hit the cold floor in the steel chair, my bruised body aching. Jeans come into my periphery with steel toe boots and I flinch, screaming. I can’t tell who this is, and my vision is fucked. Bending toward me, Jared’s worried gaze comes into view.
“Wife, it’s me. You’re okay. Come on, I got you,” he says, lifting my chair.
I feel as if I’ve been knocked around, because I have been. I’m dizzy, nausea rising to twist my stomach viciously. Gagging, I struggle to find any kind of equilibrium as Jared puts his lips to my ear.
“It’s me, baby. Let me work on this wire around your arms. Remember, I’m behind you,” he says, his fingers ghosting down my upper arms to give me something to ground myself with as I flounder.
Liliana has Tiny Dick pinned to the floor by his wrists with knives. Her knee is driven into his crotch, grinding his dick into his body. I can feel Jared working on the knots Tiny Dick made when he used barbed fucking wire to tie me up with. Every movement Jared makes to attempt to unknot it hurts, sometimes driving the barbs further into my skin.
I need to distract myself from the pain.
More people rush into the cellar, and Elijah and Theo rush to Liliana to pin her captive’s legs down because he’s trying to kick her off.
“Don’t puke on me, Elijah,” is the only warning he has before Liliana pulls a knife from one of her many pockets in her pants before shoving it into Tiny Dick’s side.
His scream makes me feel slightly better as my chin droops to my chest.
“Hey.Querida, wake up. Rachelle,” Nacio barks as my eyes begin to close. Time is moving funny, and I’m having a hard time tracking what’s going on. “Jared, what’s taking so long?”
“Fucking bastard knotted barbed wire into her skin. Lili, make it hurt!” Jared yells in her direction. Tiny Dick’s answering scream makes my lips idly twitch in amusement.
None of this is funny. Not really.
“We need wire clippers,” Ignacio mutters.
“Hey kid,” Mr. Cruz’s voice rips through the room. I can hear something displace the air as it’s thrown, the heavy thud of it hitting Nacio’s palm.
“Hijita, look at me,” Emil begs, on his knees in front of me. People need to stop popping out of nowhere. Flinching, my eyes widen as I see him. “It’s just me. We’ll get you out of those as soon as possible. Tell me something. Anything.”
“You killed his brother,” I wheeze, my thoughts a mess of tattered threads. “He was the school shooter when I was in high school.”
Emil’s jaw hardens as he shifts to squat in front of me. His palms squeeze my shoulders. It could be to ground me, but I think it’s to keep me still. Whatever they’re doing to get the wires undone is undoing my sanity as well. I’m trying to stay strong, but I’m close to losing my shit.
His fingers make quick work to untie my legs from the chair legs. They feel cold from the steel, and I have vicious pins and needles in my lower limbs as he releases them.
Quickly, he rubs the feeling back into them, as if he can tell by my moan of pain what was hurting me. He’s a damn good father.
