Chapter 78
NOVA POV
Pain woke me the way drowning wakes you, instantly sharp, all at once, like a hot knife splitting you from the inside out.
I tried screaming, but that was when I discovered there was something in my mouth that wasn’t my tongue.
I tried pushing it out, only to realize it was a piece of clothing shoved deep, and another strip of fabric wrapped tight around my mouth nearly cutting off the airflow through my nose and stopping me from spitting the cloth out.
My head was a cloudy haze of memories that wouldn’t add up. Maybe if I moved, I’d feel better.
I tried to move, but my arms didn’t respond. They were pinned and heavy ropes bit into my wrists, and my legs were lashed down so tight my knees trembled just from trying. I blinked, and the light above me stabbed into my eyes, a blunt, painful slice of reality.
My mouth was dry as old bread against the cloth stuffed in it, every breath sour and strange.
The room around me was a blur of concrete and shadows, definitely a warehouse.
I didn’t think someone else was in the room at first. I wanted to believe I was alone. But I could swear on my dead parents grave that someone moved.
A faint sound similar to boots on concrete.
I tried narrowing the sound to a part of the room, but the light shining on my face from above blinded me, limiting how far I could see into the cold, dark warehouse.
A chair scraped against the concrete floor closer this time. Very close.
I felt a shadow fall over my face, and before I could think better of it, the person leaned in close. For an instant, I smelled aftershave, smoke, and something metallic.
Fingers touched my face but it was not a caress, more of an inspection. Like he was reading a map written in skin. The touch made bile crawl up my throat.
His hand went to the tape and cloth around my mouth. I knew it was a man from the scent, and the weight of his presence, from how hard his hands felt against my skin.
He ripped the tape off, and though it stung, I didn’t hesitate before spitting out the filthy handkerchiefs that had been shoved in my mouth.
The first thing I said, the only thought that had been looping in my head since I woke up, tumbled out:
“Why are you doing this p>
My voice startled me. Softer than I wanted, like a weak helpless plea.
“Who are you?” I blurted next, forcing more steel into my tone. I could fake bravado for a while, but I needed to know what kind of game I’d just been dragged into and how to claw my way out.
But the cold silence answered me back. No sound, no breath, not even the smallest nod. It was like talking to a body, one that didn’t breathe.
I couldn’t see his face, only the way he moved, deliberate, calculating and with every step, I knew it with a slow, cold certainty: this wasn’t random.
Now that I think about it, nothing in my life has been random since I met Grant.
Still, my body ached from the ropes, from dehydration, from hours—days maybe—of being bound in this frozen place.
If I remembered right, I had just had an intense session with my man, and I’d left without eating a damn thing except that delicious-looking apple. Not even water.
How long had it been since then?
Hours?
Days?
My stomach twisted, dry and hollow. I needed food. I needed water. But most of all, I needed the kind of safety only Grant’s presence gave me.
I tried to pull my hands free, to strain against the ropes, to find even a thread of looseness that might mean escape. The ropes bit back. My palms trembled, sweat slicked my skin.
Hunger and anger boiled under the fear.
A ridiculous spark of rage burned at the cold, the ropes, the silence.
I was not going to stay small forever.
I would not let some anonymous cruelty write my story in bruises. I’d been a pawn before and I’d hated every second of it.
He stepped back. Something metallic whined softly as it was set down. The echo made my teeth vibrate.
My hands, useless against the bindings, flexed until my knuckles went white.
I whispered again, not asking this time, commanding.
“The fuck do you want from me p>
The bastard didn’t answer.
“I have nothing you need!” I snapped, voice cracking. “I’m a poor orphan! My parents are dead! You’ve got the wrong girl! What the fuck do I have to do with anything p>
I shouted, letting the rage take over because it was easier than fear.
Silence.
Then, unexpectedly, a sound of soft amusement and a low breath sounded near my ear.
“Ask your lovers,” the voice said.
The words were deliberate, slow and soaked in mockery.
“They’re noisy. I know they’ll make a mess for you p>
“They—?” My voice hitched in disbelief.
Footsteps receded. The man walked away. The sound hollowed the air.
That was when I realized the worst part wasn’t the ropes, or the pain. It was the waiting.
The knowledge that he could come back.That every second was a countdown. That any moment, the world could tilt again — and he might actually break me… or end me.
Would Grant even know where I was?
Would he track me down?
Would anyone notice I was missing?
How would Grant know where to start?
My thigh throbbed, hot. Tears blurred the low lights into soft halos. I wanted to let go, to slide into the edges of consciousness, hide in sleep but something stubborn kept me fighting for every breath, every pulse, every inch of control.
A light blinked at the far side of the room, it looked like the unfamiliar beam of a phone camera. Then, the sound of a phone being unlocked.
No… my phone being unlocked.
“You’ll send a voice note to Calloway,” he said, voice smooth as gravel. “You’ll tell him you’ve found someone better than him. That Vitellio is your true love p>
He dragged out “true” like it was a damn taunt.
He held my phone to my mouth. My chat with Grant was already open.
I saw the bunch of messages he’d sent: Are you home? You okay? Baby, call me.
And this monster had replied, pretending to be me. He’s sent a bunch of:Casual. Normal. I’m fine. Just tired. Love you.
“Like hell I will,” I sneered. My voice was weak, but my will wasn’t. I wasn’t giving him that.
Before I could finish my thought, a hard slap landed hot against my cheek, a flash of white light exploded behind my eyes.
For a few seconds, the world blurred into static.
“Send the voice note,” he said again, pushing the phone toward my mouth.
“Hell… to… the… NO p>
Another slap.
We went on like that with me, spitting defiance through blood and breath, and him, answering with another hard strike. The rhythm of violence and refusal filled the room.
“I think you like it rough,” he muttered.
I heard the snap of a belt being unclasped.
“Let me speak to you in a language you understand p>
Before I could make sense of his words, the belt came down hot and fierce across my exposed underbelly. Pain flared sharp, cutting through the air.
I bit down on my scream, but it tore out anyway, trembling through clenched teeth.
He lifted the belt again.
The world narrowed to the strip of leather, the memory of the first strike, and the sound I made when the second lash came down.
Pain took me like a tide and my scream tore loose, ragged and high, all pretense stripped away.
Everything went black at the edges.
“I… will… do… it,” I choked out finally, as the belt rained down again.
I’d already lost count of how many lashes painted my skin, each one a promise I’d make him regret someday.