Page 39 of Ravaged
CHAPTER 12
Ethan
The handcuffs came off before she showered, but the shackles on her ankles stayed on. There was enough slack between her feet that she could move around, but not enough that she could run. The red-tiled stall wasn’t glamorous, but it worked. With as much money as the Adlers brought in, you would think they would have had the whole house remodeled. But their mentality was that there was a tradition in using the same rooms that generations before them had lived in. My bar of soap and eucalyptus shampoo were good enough too.
With damp strands of hair on her shoulders and a towel wrapped around her body, I shoved a stack of clothes in her hands. Two bags full of plain women’s clothes from a generic store. She put on the tank top and leggings, and I shackled her hands, chaining her to the foot of the bed. Before she could say a word, I was out the door.
A few days passed. At first, I kept her chained to the bed during the day and night, and locked the door. But eventually, I left the chain off. Kept the wrist and ankle restraints. Locked the door and the window. That should have been enough. I was too busy taking care of shipments and protection deals to consider what it meant to give her this small sliver of freedom.
On a free afternoon, I went to the kitchen. “Where’s the harp?” I asked. Clara looked up from the stove. “The one you let her play.”
None of us chose to use her name. It was easier for them to use ‘she’ and ‘her,’ to not familiarize ourselves with Teagen. Any time I was with the family, that’s what I did too.
“I think Wil must’ve moved it. Maybe it’s in the attic?” she said. She turned off the burner and the flame flickered out. “I just finished dipping sauce for my famous cheesy bread. You want some?”
The smell of garlic and cheese was tempting, but I had other plans for now. There were a few things I needed to take care of before Gerard returned, and I resumed making the rounds for collecting protection payments.
“I’ll have some of the next batch.”
“What about her?” she asked, meaning Teagen. I shrugged. “Take some for her, then. She could use it.” She cut a pie-shaped slice and put it on a plate, scooping sauce into a small bowl on the side. “Once Wil gets back, be sure to ask him about the harp. You’re going to give it to her?”
‘Give’ was a strong word. It would be more accurate to say that I wanted to move it to my bedroom so that she might play it, and I might get to hear it. It wasn’t about gifting at all.
“She wants to play,” I said. She might not have said it, but I knew she missed music. It was the least I could do, after keeping her locked in that room.
“Take it to her then.”
I lifted a brow. “You’re not going to use it?”
“Oh, honey, not anymore,” she said. “It’s been years, anyway.”
“I thought you wanted to take lessons?”
“Sure, but with everything that’s going on?” She flicked a hand in front of herself. “I can’t manage it allandlessons.”
By ‘everything that’s going on,’ she meant that she felt guilty that Teagen was a prisoner. That her dad had stabbed himself. I didn’t take Clara to be ignorant. She knew everything that happened under the roof, but knew better than to ever acknowledge it in strict words to anyone, besides her husband. It was for her own good.
Right as I was heading to the hallway to take the bread to Teagen, Wil popped into the kitchen.
“Is that cheesy bread?” he asked in a loud voice.
“Ethan refused it,” Clara said. “Don’t tell me you don’t want any either.”
“Come on, Ma. You know me better than that.” He ripped off a slice and shoved it into his mouth like pizza, and moaned in pleasure at the taste. He nodded at me. “Are you taking that to her?”
I shrugged. “Is it a mortal sin if I don’t try it myself?”
“You’ll go straight to hell,” he winked. I took a bite. And then another. It might have been a simple cheese toast, but it was addictive. “See?” Wil laughed. “How’s it going with her, anyway?”
“It’s fine,” I said.
“She’s not chained anymore, is she?” he asked. I shrugged. “You must trust her then.”
I trusted her almost as much as I trusted him. She knew better than to run away now. But I wasn’t going to say that out loud.
“Sure,” I said.
“Remember man, you can’t fall for her. It’s…” he paused, looking around, “…realtricky to get involved with a prisoner. Never works out well.”
