“Come on.”
He’s impatient, lingering on the threshold of the bedroom like an animal uncomfortable with being locked in a cage, even one of his own making.
I eye the gray carpet while my tongue shoots out to trace my bottom lip and returns with the flavor of blood. Standing has never felt like a more impossible task. A part of me just wants to ignore him and lie here until these men finally settle on a use for me. I’m so tired. At least Vinny rarely delayed his punishment. Retributions for breaking his rules came swiftly—he didn’t like to play around with his food. Unless, of course, he was in a mood.
Setting the empty bottle aside, I brace one of my hands against the floor and attempt to push off that way. I manage to clear the mattress about an inch before my arm gives out and I land on my side, croaking out a gasp of pain before I can smother it. Lucifer watches as I grit my teeth and try again. God...the pain... I can taste it. The left side of my face aches. The room’s still air assaults the tender flesh there like a repeated blow. My eyes water.Focus, Daniela.For a second, I imagine that Vinny’s here, sneering down at me from the man’s position.
Get a fucking hold of yourself, Lynn.
I hate myself for the fact that even the imaginary threat of him is enough to marshal my body into action. I crawl over to the wall and then use the surface of it for leverage to slowly climb upright. For a moment, I think I’ll lose my balance again, but mytrembling knees hold up. I succeed in taking a step in the man’s direction, and he enters the hallway without a word.
It’s a slow, agonizing shuffle down the hall to enter what seems to be a small sitting room. I have to cling to the wall the entire way before choosing to crawl on my hands and knees to a couch, which I scramble onto.
“Here.” The man throws something at me while I settle on the uneven cushions.
They’re upholstered in a faded material that seems to sport blue-and-white stripes. At some point, the colors must have been vibrant. Now, they’re worn and gray in places. I picture the leather furniture that decorated the suite I called home for five years. Vinny certainly wouldn’t approve of this abode. The furniture is minimal. There’s an armchair matching the style of the couch a few feet away, against the wall. There’s a small television as well, and a plain coffee table is in the center of the carefully assembled selection. Someone’s tried their best to make it homey, I think. But furniture and blue curtains can only go so far to displace the otherwise charged atmosphere. I feel like I’m in a pot, dangling above a pit of fire—while I may not be able to see the flames through the metal prison, I can still smell them. Their heat tickles my skin.
Lucifer’s eyes burn like that inferno. He nods to a wad of gray fabric that has appeared on the couch beside me. “Put it on,” he says. Each word is pronounced slowly and deliberately. It’s like he knows that my brain will take twice as long to process them.
Put it on?Oh, that’s right. I’m naked. My hand drifts out, and my fingers seize a handful of cotton. Another shirt, apparently. This one doesn’t smell like him, but I pull it onto my lap, fingering the hemmed edges. I glance up and find him watching, and then I set the shirt aside.
There’s no use in donning another garment that will wind up being torn off. I’m too exhausted. I’ll make it easy for these men. Lucifer frowns at the disobedience, but he says nothing. His eyesdrift over me, lingering over the center of my torso, and I realize he wants me covered for his own benefit. No man likes to be reminded of the power of another, but I’m too tired to humor his pride. His gaze can’t violate me any more than Vinny’s hands already have.
He blows out a harsh sound the way a penned bull does when it paws the earth, right before lunging for the bullfighter egging it on. Then he turns and approaches a refrigerator that is separated from the rest of the room by only a row of counters. He rummages through the cabinets and then turns to face me.
“What do you want?”
I stare blankly until he raises both of his hands, revealing what he’s holding in either one. The right contains a bag of bread. The left has a colorful box sporting a grinning chipmunk in the process of shoving round bits of cereal into its mouth.Chunky Bites.
“What do you want toeat?” he demands again. His voice deepens when he’s losing his patience, I notice. It’s a chilling sound.
My mouth opens.Whatever you think is best.Those words are on the tip of my tongue, but I wrestle them back at the last moment. My hand rises from the couch and a trembling finger points toward theChunky Bites.
He slams the box down onto the counter and then grabs a bowl from one of the cupboards. I watch his fingers move, almost studiously, as he tilts the box, allowing a pile of Chunky Bites to fall into it. Then he douses it all with milk from the fridge. My mouth waters. My greedy hands shake as he crosses the room and shoves the bowl toward me. I bring the rim of it to my mouth and sip at the strange concoction before I even notice the spoon he’s offering me next. It tastes like sugar, and my eyes drift shut as I swallow.
How long has it been since I’ve eaten cheap, commercial cereal? How long has it been since I’ve chosen for myself what toeat at all? Those two combined luxuries explode the moment I shove the first spoonful into my mouth and chew.
It’s good. I’m shoveling more into my mouth, more quickly than I can get it down. It’s like I blink and the bowl is empty, and Lucifer is already snatching it away. Before disappointment can really descend, he returns. The bowl nearly overflows with more, and I take my time with the second helping—or at least I try to. I devour every last bit of chunky, sugary “bites,” and then I down the milk so quickly that most of it winds up running down my chin. I’m greedy. My tongue shoots out, tasting the remains of sugar that coat the rim of the bowl.
I hold it out to Lucifer, licked clean, but he isn’t as gracious with the servings this time. “You’ll get sick if you eat any more,” he says while marching over to throw the bowl and the spoon into the sink.
I think he’s right. Already, my stomach is trying to adjust to painful emptiness, sudden fullness, and the poisonous effects of alcohol. I draw my knees up to my chin and bury my face between them, just in case, but it isn’t long before the nausea dissipates.
“Last night.” Lucifer uses the two words to draw my attention back to him. He stands behind the counter, bracing both of his hands on top of it. “You said that you had an idea to pay back Stacatto.”
He’s prompting me for something, but my memories are a tangled ball that hurts to unravel. I grimace. Last night...
Oh.I remember now. I claimed that I’d willingly sleep with a man, on camera no less, just to make Vinny seethe. God, I wish I’d been lying. Alcohol is a powerful truth serum, it seems.
“He won’t care,” I say haltingly, trying to justify the boast, “if...if I’m r-raped—” My teeth chatter over the words. “He’ll expect it. But if I was willing...”
Vinny’s perfect Lynn would never be so brazen. He’d be furious—more than that. For all of my bravado, I can’t evenimagine it. I rest my head on my knees instead and shut my eyes against that violent truth.
“He won’t negotiate otherwise.”
“Negotiate?” Lucifer’s voice is an almost-amused drawl. “What makes you think that Ar...wewant anything in return for you?”
I lift my shoulder in an artless shrug. So it is true—these men only aim for revenge. How pathetic. It’s such...such a waste. Vinny will be able to make his Lynn a martyr, justifying more of his madness, and these men will just suffer a grisly end for their defiance.
