Chapter 63: Chapter Sixty-Three

Bridget’s head lifted to see who had come in. Her arms and legs were strapped to the chair along with a buckle around her neck keeping her in place. A bandana served as a gag but the fabric didn’t keep her mouth from pulling up at the edges. Gloria shut the door and strode up to her. She undid the bandana and threw it over her shoulder.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the pet,” Bridget said, her voice annoyingly high and princess-like despite the situation she currently found herself in.

Gloria wasted no time, she back-handed the bitch. Bridget’s head whipped to the side. She sucked air through her teeth as she tried to act as though it didn’t affect her.

“Do you know who I am?” Gloria asked, looking at the table full of instruments used for torturing and seeking information.

Bridget laughed, the noise melodical and serene. “Gloria Rubanov. Ivan Rubanov’s daughter and only child. Engaged to Sergei Vaseliev. He’s a new partner of mine.”

“Yours? Or your brother?” Gloria asked, picking up a scalpel to test its sharpness.

Bridget scoffed. “Liam sits at home in his office. I’m the one on the ground. I’m the one who attends meetings. By the way, what’s your deal? Sergei is fucking hot.” Bridget shrugged. “Demented, but hot.” Bridget observed her for a moment. “You know what I think it is?”

“I’m dying to know your opinion,” Gloria said with a sigh as she crossed her arms and looked at the woman.

“These contracts. They make women like you weak. You have absolutely no knowledge of the world. On purpose. You don’t know how to pleasure a man. You don’t know how to talk to a man. Fuck, you don’t know how to be in the same room as a man. Meanwhile, women like me… We have all the power.”

“I see,” Gloria said, taking a seat in the metal chair by the table. “So, if I’d lost my virginity at 14 to some gangster who said he loved me just to get in my pants, I’d be in the same position as you right now?”

Bridget smirked. “I’m rich. I can do as I please. My family values me. I’m as important as my brother, if not more so. I’m not a pretty thing to sit on a shelf. I’m a weapon with years of experience at my disposal. I bet you’re still a fucking virgin who quakes in her little UGG boots at the very sight of a virile man. You wouldn’t know what to do with a man like Sergei. Like Frankie Donati. My partner sees my usefulness in a way he never saw with you. That’s what matters to me.”

Gloria rolled her eyes. “Sergei will use you as a means to an end. He wants me and the second he has me, he’ll double-cross you.”

Bridget laughed. “I never said my partner was Sergei Vasiliev.”

Gloria stared at the woman who looked tickled pink that Gloria had guessed wrong. “Oh? Then who is your partner?”

Bridget laughed again and shrugged before she looked back at Gloria. “What the hell, I’ve never been good at being humble. I’ll give you a hint. He is the only other person who stands to lose by your contract falling through.”

Gloria tried to keep the shock from crossing her face. But… of course. “Ivan.”

Bridget’s face wrinkled in disgust. “You call your dad, ‘Ivan?’ You can say what you want about me but at least my family values me more than a signature on a dotted line,” she mocked.

Gloria picked up the scalpel and pressed it to Bridget’s throat, drawing blood. “What the fuck did he say to you?”

“Oh, not much, just that he will pay whatever it takes to track his beloved daughter down, he wants Frankie dead and would kill you too if Sergei wants to back out. You’ve really hurt him, Gloria. I think after he met me, he realized what a loyal daughter really looks like. Maybe he’d even agree to letting me marry that hunkin’ Russian in your stead? How would that be? Me taking over your family’s empire while your daddy buries you in an unmarked grave next to your mommy?”

Gloria slammed her fist into the woman’s cheek and heard a resounding crack. She shook out her fist.

Gloria chuckled. “You’re right. I was a virgin until recently. About a week ago, in fact. But you are wrong about one thing.” Gloria forced Bridget’s head back up. “I handled Frankie Donati just fine.” Bridget’s nose twitched. “See the thing you don’t take into account… that many people probably don’t take into account, is that to love a man like Frankie Donati…” Gloria paused and looked at Bridget. “I’m assuming you’re in love with him?” Bridget’s eyes narrowed. “To want a man like that, you have to be a bit messed up in the head yourself.” She picked up the scalpel and returned to the electric chair. “To keep a man like that…” Gloria smirked. “You have to be on the same level of depravity.”

“See…” Gloria continued. “You are right. People in my position are often sheltered. But, we hold everything in. Every beating. Every assault. Every manipulation. Every minor injustice is stored away until something, or someone, forces it to the surface. It doesn’t matter what the real world is like, we’ll still bring it to its knees. That’s what he’s best at, wouldn’t you say? Seeing the darkest side of what’s underneath and nurturing it. That’s what made you fall in love with him, right? I’m not valuable to my father. But I am to him. Something you will never be.” Gloria placed the scalpel on Bridget’s thigh and the woman flinched. “On the outside, I’m innocent, naive, trusting. But on the inside, there’s a woman who holds the fate of an empire built on blood and tortured souls. You? You’re far less interesting. Everything about you on the outside is about your beauty and the inside is what you’re willing to do with it. You’re hollow. Boring.”

“Are you going to do something or are you audio-transcribing a dissertation?” Bridget asked with a roll of her eyes, telling Gloria she was on the right track.

“I’m debating what to do with you,” Gloria answered honestly. “See the people watching through that camera,” she said, pointing at the camera in the corner with her scalpel. “They want me to kill you. They think it will provoke your brother, and maybe even your new partner out of hiding. But me? I think death is just far too easy of a punishment for you. I think you weigh your worth on your usefulness. It’s a common thing for us women. We are often judged by our peers, our family, our lovers on what we can do for them. So… I wonder… What would be worse for you, Bridget Phelan? Death? Or bringing that darkness to the surface? Permanently.”

There was a slight hitch in Bridget’s breathing. An uncertainty. A fear of the unknown. “Whatever you do, Liam and the rest of my family will never give up until justice is served.”

Gloria chuckled. “So I’ve heard. They’ve been doing a bang-up job taking out the Galantes, right? How long has that feud been going on? Thirty years? Not much movement there.”

Bridget laughed. “That’s what you think. We killed the whore that turned against us and spawned that Galante heir. We instigated the downfall of Michele’s empire and by the time you and Sergei walk down the aisle, we’ll have rid the world of every last person with a drop of Galante blood in their system.” Bridget smirked. “Did you hear what we did to Conor’s girl?”

“Educate me.”

She smiled wide. “We gutted her. We strapped her to an exam table and took the pieces of her that made her a woman. Conor is so hung up on that bitch and we made it so that she would never go back to him. Slow torture before the final blow.”

Gloria pursed her lips and nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what? A glimpse into your future?”

“No, for helping me decide what I’m going to do with you.”

“Draw it out or make it quick. I’m ready to die for my family.”

Gloria laughed. She threw her head back and clutched her stomach as her muscles contracted around the sound being forced through her windpipes. She wiped her eyes and smiled at the unsuspecting woman.

“No, no, Sweetheart. You see, you just told me what your family prefers. You killed your own family member, destroying the heart of your enemy but kept him alive. Then you dismantled his organization, again, keeping him alive to wallow in his misery. Then with Conor… you did the same. You stole his heart from his chest so he’d live forever in despair. No…” Gloria stood and though she was barely five feet, two inches, she towered over the blonde strapped to the chair.

“I’m not going to kill you, Bridge.” She placed the scalpel against her shoulder and watched a drop of blood trickle down her arm. “I’m going to bring the ugliness to the surface. I’m going to cut at you, cleanly, precisely. Maybe I’ll even take a few chunks of skin from your scalp so that beautiful hair never grows back properly. I’ll be creative, don’t worry. Make cute little patterns along your arms and legs. Then I’m going to keep you here for as long as it takes. As long as it takes for the wounds I’ve opened to heal and scar. Then, when I know there’s no way a surgeon can fix the work I’ve painstakingly carved into your skin, I’ll let you walk out those doors into a world in which you will no longer be useful. You’ll be a monster, Bridget. Same as you always were. But this time…” She leaned down and smiled at the woman whose face was twisted in anger. “There will be no hiding it.”

“Now,” Gloria said, stepping back. She crossed her one arm across her chest and tapped her finger against her chin as she surveyed her canvas. “Would you prefer stencil or freehand?”