Page 7 of Blood Spilled
I smile and nod my head. “You have nothing to worry about. Especially not the man I have chained to a cage who can’t even scream. It's that bitch we need to worry about.”
Gabriel nods. “We will take care of her after we take care of all her accomplices she's going to lead us to. Someone is bound to talk, someone always does.”
Seven
Santiago
I hear voices, and even though I know they will do nothing to help me, I bang against the cage anyway. I keep waking up from the cold air hitting my skin. The fucker turned up the AC. Right when I think I can somehow make myself comfortable enough to sleep, he takes that small triumph away from me. The knitted blanket isn't long enough to cover my whole body, not unless I am curled up in a ball.
I bang my cuffs harder against the cage. It was the only noise I could make since my voice comes out in mostly whispers, especially with my throat being dry. After banging for what seems like forever, the bedroom door swings open.
Angel’s eyes are bulging, and his brows are furrowed. “What is it you think you're doing in here? What's with all the racket? I thought you were going to be good from now on? Am I going to have to put you in a straitjacket?”
I shake my head. “I want out of here. I'm done being your fucking dog.”
He laughs. “Oh, sweet pet, I think it's cute how you think you're anywhere near as special as a dog. Now you are going to shut up or I'll make you.”
“Fine, but only after you take me to the restroom. You don't want me to piss or shit on myself, do you?” I refrain from grasping at my throat. It’s still painful to speak, but I refuse to show him any more weakness for him to take pleasure in.
He tilts his head to the side and sighs. “I suppose I can help you out there. Is it number one or two?”
“One.”
He nods and bends down picking up the plastic water bottle. He throws it my way and smirks. “You can piss in this.”
I grit my teeth staring at the bottle in disgust. “You're joking. I'm not pissing in that.”
“Then I guess you can sleep in your own piss all night long. Maybe it'll even help warm you up for a bit when that AC kicks back on.”
This asshole. I knew he was making it cold on purpose. I grab the bottle and aim my tip toward it. His eyes on me make it hard to focus on my aim and my hands are shaking. I close my eyes pretending he's not there and let my stream flow, hoping most of it is making it into the bottle. When I open my eyes, he reaches out with his hand. “All done?”
I stare down at the nearly full bottle and nod my head. I pull it from my cock and stick it out in front of me, waiting for him to get close enough to grab it. “I can't move too far. Everything hurts,” I lie.
He sighs and moves closer, bending over. He reaches for the bottle from my hand and instead of letting him grab it, I toss the piss at him. He clenches his jaw and his face turns bright red. Ican feel the rage vibrating off him. “You little shit, you will wish you didn't do that.”
He slaps me so hard I collapse backward into the cage, completely winded. I scoot forward and struggle to stand on my first attempt. The second time isn't any easier and I'm like a newborn learning to walk for the first time. Angel’s back is already turned to me by the time I get to my feet, but he’s still within reach of the chain length. I charge at him, jumping on his back with my hands around his neck.
He tries shaking me off, but I'm stronger than he thinks I am. The adrenaline running through my body sends a surge of energy through me. My hands tighten around his neck and with a few rough jerks of his body I crash to the floor. He presses his hand to his neck, his breaths coming out strangled. “You…fucker…” he says in between pants. “You…will pay for that.”
“Do your worst,” I mutter with my side pressed against the floor.
Angel approaches me slowly with a scowl on his face. He kneels to reach for me and I flinch, shutting my eyes. Instead of the slap I expect he runs a hand through my hair. “After all this time, you still have so much fight left in you. Not as weak as I thought you were. But you are still weak and weak men never come out on top. You should know that already. Without your father, you are nothing.”
“My father?”
“Si, your father. He's dead. Blew up into a million pieces.”
I swallow hard, trying my best to process the information. “My father's dead?”
“Si, little mouse and he will never come for you.”
I peer up at him, raising a brow. A peal of laughter spills out of me, causing my stomach to shake. He tilts his head in confusion, the way you would at a mad person, and the laughter doesn’t stop. I throw my back against the wooden floor laughing harderand louder with my eyes shut. “I think it's funny you think my father would have come for me if he was alive.” I laugh again, shaking my head. “You Castenedas always think you have shit figured out when you have no fucking clue. You think this is the first time this has happened to me. Not even close. Only last time it was because my own father wanted to teach me a lesson.”
I sit up again, pressing my hands into the cold floor, leaning forward. “He probably would have even sent you a thank you note.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel bad for you? Because it doesn't.”
“Are you expecting me to feel upset about my father dying? Were you wanting me to cry?” I scoff. “Because I won’t. Fuck my father, and fuck you.”
