Chapter 47 Fractured Hope

Chapter 47 Fractured Hope
Lucienne's Point of View

I sagged against the chains, reeling from the sting of the whip. My wrists were still tightly bound, but the slight loosening of the chains gave me a moment to catch my breath as I gasped, my chest heaving. Beatrice stood in the dimly lit cell, her body tense and poised, the whip in her hand slicing through the air with a sharp crack.

Suddenly, the heavy door slammed open, and Rodney stormed in, radiating a palpable fury that seemed to charge the air around him. Without a moment's hesitation, he reached out and seized her wrist, the force of his grip causing her wrist to break, and she staggered slightly. With a swift motion, he wrenched the whip from her hand, sending it flying across the cell to land with a dull thud on the cold stone floor.

Beatrice's heart raced as she met his intense gaze, realisation dawning on her that the confrontation was far from over.

"She's already been whipped today," he snarled. "The plan is not to kill her."

"I don't care!" Beatrice screamed, her voice a frenzied shriek that echoed off the cold stone walls, her eyes wild with a manic intensity as she struggled against his unyielding grip. "I want her dead! I'll do anything, anything at all! Let me go! I need to see her suffer!" Her breath came in ragged gasps, each word laced with a desperate fury that bordered on madness, revealing the depths of her obsession. 

Rodney's grip tightened, his tone icy. "If she dies, your precious twins might die too. Do you want their deaths on your hands?"

A cold wave of dread washed over me as Rodney’s words sank in, my heart pounding with the realisation that my life was bound to the fate of my twins. The image of Marc and Cole being vulnerable because of me flashed through my mind, sending a surge of panic coursing through me.

"No, please," I whispered, trembling, "I can't lose them too." The thought of their deaths hanging over me like a dark cloud threatened to shatter my resolve, and I knew I had to escape before they could kill me.

I lifted my head at the sound of another coming downstairs. Elizabeth walked into the small area outside the cell, her silhouette framed by the dim light behind her. The air felt as her cold and calculating expression locked onto the faces before her.

It was as if she were meticulously assessing each person, evaluating their intentions and weaknesses with a precision that sent an unspoken warning rippling through the room. "What is going on here?"

Beatrice squared her shoulders, her face flushed with anger and betrayal. With a sharp intake of breath, she thrust her finger toward Rodney, her gaze fierce and wild. "He hit me!" she screeched, her voice ascending to a frenzied pitch, filling the tense atmosphere with her anguish.

Elizabeth's gaze didn't waver, and with obvious contempt for her daughter, she asked, "Why?" It was hard not to feel a twinge of sympathy for Beatrice after discovering the cold indifference she had endured from her mother.

Rodney waved his hand dismissively towards Beatrice, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. "She's having a tantrum because I won't let her damage the hostage any further," he said, his tone sharp and precise.

He went on to describe the scene, detailing how Beatrice had stomped her feet and crossed her arms in a dramatic display of defiance. Her face was flushed with frustration as she shouted about her perceived injustices, drawing the attention of others in the room. Rodney's voice remained steady, but there was an underlying tension as he recounted her antics, clearly weary of her frequent outbursts.

When he finished speaking, Elizabeth’s expression twisted with contempt, her lip curling as she turned her sharp gaze toward Beatrice. Her voice dripped with venom, each word cutting like a blade. “Beatrice, stop being a stupid bitch,” she snapped, her tone both scornful and impatient. “For once in your life, use your head and think.”

Rodney sneered at her. Beatrice's face turned red with fury, but before she could retort, Rodney spoke again, his tone dripping with disdain. "Are you sure she's Darius' daughter? She's as stupid as fuck."

“Mother!” Beatrice screeched. “Why do you let him speak to me like that? He has no right—”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she turned on Beatrice, her voice sharp and venomous. “You should be thankful I’m your mother,” she hissed. “Without me, you’d be the worst Luna in history—weak, foolish, and utterly useless. Now, get upstairs before you embarrass yourself further. And don’t you dare raise your voice to me again?” Beatrice's enraged screams continued as she climbed the stairs. 

Elizabeth turned to Rodney, her expression icy. “Only I get to talk to my daughter like that,” she said, her voice sharp with authority. “I would remind you to be a lot more polite when speaking to or about her. Do not overstep your bounds.”

Rodney’s sneer deepened, his tone unbothered as he replied. “You pay me for a specific job. I can’t do my job if your brat gets in the way. Keep her on a leash, or better yet, teach her to stay out of things she doesn’t understand. If I can’t do my job, I’ll let the prisoner go and walk out of here. Good luck finding someone else willing to do your dirty work.”

Elizabeth’s lips tightened into a thin line, but she didn’t respond. With a final glare at Rodney, she turned and ascended the stairs, leaving me slumped forward, trembling with pain. My breaths were shallow, each one stinging, but relief swept over me as the tension in the room lessened with her departure.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked Rodney weakly, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

He looked down at me, a twisted smirk on his face. “Money,” he said, his tone mocking. “Pure and simple… Money.” His gaze lingered over me, making my skin crawl. “You should be grateful I saved you,” he added, his voice dripping with false sweetness. His smirk widened, his eyes darkening with something more sinister. “Maybe you should show me just how grateful you are. Since you’re already down there and everything.”

My lip curled in disgust as I locked eyes with him, his leering gaze crawling over me like something filthy I couldn’t shake off. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, twisting tighter with every second I held his stare. Fear clawed at the edges of my composure, cold and suffocating, but I refused to let it show. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Come closer,” I hissed, my voice low but trembling with restrained fury, each word laced with venom. “And I’ll bite it off.”

My heart hammered in my chest, betraying the terror I fought to bury beneath my defiance. The air between us felt thick and suffocating, my body tensing as his presence grew heavier. Even as I held my ground, disgust flooded through me—an innate and overwhelming urge to shrink away from the evil radiating off him.

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Instead, I poured every ounce of hatred and defiance into my words, hoping it would mask the fear that threatened to consume me.“When my mates come for me, they will kill you slowly. For each and every smidgen of pain you cause will be given back to you tenfold.”

The slap came hard and fast, the sharp crack echoing in the dimly lit room.

Pain exploded across my cheek, and I gasped, my head snapping to the side. The sting burned, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Rodney loomed over me, his sneer widening as he embraced my defiance.

"Don't test me, little Gamma," he said, his tone a cold promise of pain. He leaned in slightly, his breath hot and foul against my skin. "Your time will come; when it does, no one will save you. Mark my words, I will have you before you die."

I held his gaze, my anger flaring despite the throbbing in my face. I wouldn't let him win—not now, not ever. His answer to that was to laugh at me.

As he turned and stalked out of the room, his footsteps echoing ominously against the cold stone walls, I sagged against my restraints, the weight of my pain and fear pressing heavily on me. My body ached, and my spirit felt fractured, but through it all, my thoughts drifted to Marc and Cole.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to block out the agony coursing through me, and sent a silent prayer to them. Please be safe. Please stay strong. The image of their faces flickered in my mind. They were my reason to keep fighting and endure this nightmare.

Find me, I pleaded silently. Find me before it’s too late. As tears burned in the corners of my eyes, I clung to the fragile hope that they would somehow feel my prayer and come for me.

Hurry. Please, hurry.