Page 17 of Blood and Lies (A Twisted Duet 1)

The way I saw it, I had two choices. Either I did what he said, hoping like hell someone would find me before it was too late—or I fought him. I wasn’t completely clueless. I knew the window of being able to find a kidnapped woman in this country wasn’t open for long. The longer I sat there, the slimmer my chances of being found became—and I wasn’t even sure exactly how long I’d been here. So my only other option was to fight. To fight him around every corner, to show him I wasn’t this weaklittle mousethat he thought I was.

My mom used to tell me what a strong-willed child I was. No one was able to debate with me, to sway me when I already had my mind made up—which was why my mom didn’t even try to stop me when I decided to go to New York. She knew no matter what any of them did, I wouldn’t stay.

So where was that woman now? The strong-willed, courageous woman whose only goal was to prove to everyone that she could stand on her own two feet?

I needed to pull my shit together and show Castello I wouldn’t be easily broken. That I wouldn’t play the part of the helpless victim, in turn giving him exactly what he wanted. I saw it in his eyes, his need for power—and because I seemed to be the root of his need for revenge, he needed that power to come from me.

Well, fuck him. I wouldn’t give it to him.

I grabbed the hardened loaf of bread and climbed to my feet. My stomach growled, and every instinct inside me was telling me to eat the bread, no matter how old it was. But I wouldn’t. I would no longer be the scared little mouse.

I tore off a piece of the tattered rag that hung just above my knees, swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and reached down to where I knew the finger was. The second I felt it between my fingers through the fabric, I gagged and groaned. I quickly wrapped the cloth around the finger, grabbed the box it came in, and stuffed it back inside.

A rush of air expelled from my lungs, and my body went numb as I sat on the bed. Everything was still so surreal, like I would wake up in my bed in my apartment at any moment now.Wishful thinking.

With the bread in my hands, I started to break it into tiny pieces, placed it inside the box with the finger, put the lid on, and carried it over to the wall where I knew the hidden door was. After placing the box on the floor, I glanced around the room, knowing he was probably watching me.

I climbed on the bed, my stomach still rumbling, urging me to grab the box and eat the bread. But I kept hearing my mom’s voice over and over and over again in my head.

“You are the most strong-willed girl I have ever known…”

Her voice gave me the strength I needed. Not the goddamn two-week-old loaf of bread or the God-awful vinegar-water. And if hearing her voice inside my head wasn’t enough, the fact that the bread was in there with a human finger was reason enough for me not to want to eat that damn bread. No, I wouldn’t eat.

Castello needed me to be physically strong so he could torture me and break me, extract the revenge he needed from me without me wilting away before he had his fill. I’d be strong, all right, but not in the way he expected of me. If I wanted to win this war, I needed to fight him with his own weapon…me.

Chapter 7

CASTELLO

I leaned back in the chair, watching Tatum on the thirty-two-inch monitor. I had a state-of-the-art security system installed once my mind was made up about what I wanted to do.

Wanted…needed…had no fucking choice.Same damn thing.

It had been hours since she tore up the bread and placed it with the finger in the gift box. I had to admit, I did not think she would have the guts to go near that finger, let alone pick it up. But yet again, Tatum managed to surprise me by proving me wrong.

After placing the box in front of the door, she got onto the bed and hadn’t moved since. She just sat there against the headboard with her legs pulled up, leaning her head back or on her arms. She didn’t even cry anymore, and I noticed her body had stopped shaking.

The entire time I watched her, I kept wondering if I had been wrong about her. When I put this plan in motion, I thought for sure I had this woman all figured out. She was the creative type who easily lost herself to the depths of her mind. For months I had her followed, and all she did was work at the art studio by day and drown herself in a bottle of scotch at night while her mind took her to places that involved colors and paint and everything bizarre. There were a few nights she spent with friends, only having a drink or two. But when she got home, she cracked open the bottle and consumed her weight in alcohol. From where I stood, she already seemed broken, which was supposed to make my job easy.

But maybe I was wrong.

More time went by. Every now and then, she would glance at the box in front of the door but then look away.

She had to be hungry. She hadn’t eaten in days. All she had was the vinegar-water she licked up from the floor.

God, that was a show to witness, seeing her on her hands and knees, licking up every drop she could find like a thirsty little kitten. While I watched her on the monitor, I found myself wanting to be inside that room, to hear the sound of her tongue lapping up every drop, to hear her moan as the liquid coated her dry throat. The twisted son of a bitch in me even got hard watching her crawl around like a pet. My cock swelled, the monster roared, and my blackened soul wanted so much more. I wanted to see her sit at my feet. I wanted to hear her sweet whimpers as I stroked my fingers through her hair, brushing my hand along her naked shoulders. I would touch her, caress her…hurt her until finally she would beg me to give her the release her body craved.

I shifted in my seat, rubbing against the painful hardness in my pants. What the fuck was I doing, sitting around having twisted fantasies about the woman who was the epitome of everything fucking evil in my life?

Pushing back the lustful thoughts that had no place in my mind to begin with, I continued to watch her, study her, to try to figure out who the hell she really was.

It was amazing what the human instinct for survival would make you do, yet she denied herself food. Why? If hermodusoperandiwas to starve herself to death before I had the chance to take her life, why would she drink the vinegar-water? Why would she crawl on the floor like a pet in search of more water but wouldn’t eat?

I tried to wrap my head around it, to figure out what was going on inside her mind. This was, after all, about to become the mother of all mind-fuck games. For hours, I watched her but couldn’t figure it out. Until she gave one more glance toward the box…and it hit me. When I was in there earlier, I didn’t tell her to drink the water. I told her to eat. Idemandedshe eat. That was it. She was defying me, showing me one giant “fuck you” by not doing what I had specifically told her to do.

Motherfucker.

I smiled. The little mouse I caught seemed to be a fighter after all. I had indeed underestimated her. Lucky for me, unlucky for her, I loved a challenge, thrived on it. It made me push my limits, made me stronger, gave me power.

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