Page 99 of Liam
LIAM
The concrete presses cold and unyielding against my cheek, sending a numbing chill up my jaw. Each shallow breath makes my ribs throb, sharp pain radiating with every movement. Blood coats my mouth, bitter and metallic. Elias’s boots scuff against the floor as he circles me like a predator stalking its prey. It’s so dark in the room I can barely make out Elias’s form.
A sharp kick drives into my side, and I bite down hard to stop any sound from escaping. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out. The ropes around my wrists bite deeper and burn with each shift, but I focus on the scrape of Elias’s boots, timing his steps.
“You know,” he says, his voice snaking through the air, “I expected more fight from the golden boy of the Valeur family. Yet here you are, lying likea broken toy.”
A dry laugh slips out, more instinct than choice, blood spraying my lips. “Broken? That’s what you think?” I turn my head, angling toward his voice. “You don’t know the first thing about strength, Elias.”
The room stills, his footsteps halting. Time to twist the knife.
“You ever wonder,” I continue, my voice calm, deliberate, “why my father killed yours?”
The air in the room shifts, thickening with an unseen weight. His steps stop completely now.
“You mean murdered him,” Elias spits. “He murdered my father in cold blood. He ruined everything.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head slowly, every movement sending a fresh wave of pain through my body. “Yourfather ruined everything. He raped my mother. He destroyed her.”
The temperature in the room feels like it dropped several degrees as the words land. The air around us turns heavy, the tension crackling between us like a live wire. I hear Elias’s ragged breaths, each exhale sharper, more erratic.
“You’re lying!”
“My father didn’t plan to kill him,” I say, forcing the words through my battered lips. “He came to confront your dad about the rape. Things got out of control. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“You’re lying,” Elias repeats, but the conviction is gone, replaced by the jagged edges of doubt.
I push myself up slightly, the ropes biting into my wrists as I shift. The pounding in my skull intensifies, but I need to keep talking, need to keep him off-balance. “Think about it,” I press, my voice gaining strength. “You said you were fivewhen your father died, right? He didn’t tell you anything because he couldn’t. He was already dead. You’ve built your whole life on the myth of a man you never really knew.”
“Shut up,” Elias growls, his breath quickening.
“You’re seeing it, aren’t you?” I say, leaning into his growing uncertainty. “You know I’m right. He wasn’t a hero. He was a monster. A rapist.”
“Shut up!” his voice cracks, raw and desperate.
But I keep going, my words like a blade twisting deeper. “He wasn’t the man you thought he was. And my father—he was trying to protect us. Even though he hadn’t intended it, he did what your father deserved.”
The darkness closes in on me, every breath strained. His sharp inhale cuts through the quiet, and then his fingers twist into my hair, yanking my head back. Pain flares through my scalp, rippling down my neck, forcing a grimace. I grind my teeth, his hot breath grazing my skin as his grip tightens, vibrating with fury. The stench of sweat and metal fills the space, a sharp tang of blood clinging to the air, making it hard to breathe.
“You’re lying!” he says again. “You’re just like him—twisting the truth to make yourself feel better.”
A sharp punch slams into my jaw, and my head whips to the side, the metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth again. I spit the blood onto the floor, barely able to hear over the ringing in my ears.
“Your father was a coward,” I choke out, each word laced with venom. “And you’re just like him. Weak.”
Elias’s grip tightens, his hands trembling. His breathing is erratic now, shallow gasps filled with fury and confusion. “Hewasn’t weak,” Elias growls, but the quiver in his voice betrays him.
I feel the shift before I hear it—a rustling, followed by the unmistakable sound of fabric being ripped free. My pulse quickens as Elias kneels beside me, shoving a gag into my mouth, pulling it tight until it cuts into my lips. The rough material presses against my tongue, muffling my voice, choking me.
“Not another word,” he seethes, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. His hand lingers near my throat, and for a second, I think he might snap.
The air hangs heavy, stifling with the acrid tang of sweat and damp concrete. Elias’s ragged breathing punctuates the silence, each exhale a gust of fury. My chest rises and falls in shallow, painful bursts, my ribs protesting with every movement.
Through the coarse fabric of the gag, a low rumble builds in my throat, growing in intensity until it escapes as a muffled, guttural sound. Not quite a word, but a clear message nonetheless.
Elias’s footsteps falter, then stop. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring. “Shut up,” he hisses, but the command lacks conviction, his voice wavering, evidence of a hairline crack in his composure.
My response is another growl, louder this time. Defiant. Unbroken.
