Put them both in the torture room

Put them both in the torture room


Daisy

The door swung open with a long, slow creak. A man stepped into the darkness, and behind him came Irene. I would have recognised that silhouette anywhere. The man found the light switch and flipped it on. The brightness hit my eyes and I had to squint against it.

"There she is," Irene announced.

The man raised his hand to acknowledge her. Now that I could see his face properly, I noticed the resemblance to Sandro. He was average height, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. This had to be Greyson.

"Nobody mentioned she was pretty," he said with a chuckle. I fixed him with the hardest stare I could manage.

"Looks like she has some fight in her too. I like that. Watching tough people break is always entertaining."

I stayed quiet. Just kept my eyes on him.

"She's not tough. She'll do exactly what you tell her. Whatever you want, isn't that right, Daisy?" Irene cut in.

"That is... so not right," I forced out.

"Definitely tough," he laughed shortly. The sound grated on my nerves. I wished he would stop making noise altogether. Permanently would be ideal.

"You can leave," he said to Irene.

"Are you sure you want me to.."

"I said you should leave now." His voice turned stern, and Irene let out a soft sigh.

She glanced at me. "Be obedient," she whispered, and then she walked out of the room.

Obedient? To a man staring at me like I was something to consume? To this smug bastard with that grin plastered across his face?

No. Absolutely not.

"Irene filled me in. You haven't been eating properly or taking care of yourself at all. You must be quite something to look at when you're at your best," he said, grinning.

"Stop looking at me like that," I told him.

"You're going to get up now and take a quick shower."

"And if I refuse?"

"Your life is in my hands, Daisy. If you won't do as I say, I can force you. Or I could simply get rid of you if you prove to be too much trouble."

I glared at him again, then slowly got to my feet. He turned his back to me, and that was when I noticed it. Irene had left without locking the door. The door was open. The bastard was standing with his back turned.

But there was no way I could get out without him seeing me. My eyes darted around my side of the room, searching for anything heavy. I was desperate. I could hardly believe I was actually considering this.

A small flower vase sat on a table nearby. I had no idea how heavy it was, but it was my best chance. I grabbed it and moved closer to him, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

"Bastard!" I shouted as I brought the vase down on his head.

I heard him grunt and groan, but I didn't wait another second. I turned, pulled the door open, and ran out of the room. I had no idea where the exit was or which way would keep me from being caught.

"You bitch!" Greyson's voice came from behind me.

I looked back and saw him running after me, one hand pressed to the back of his head. I kept running, took a corner without thinking. I knew nothing about this house, and unfortunately for me, the corner led to a balcony.

I glanced back. Greyson was closing in fast.

"Thought you could escape, did you? I see why my father wanted you killed instead of kept as entertainment for his business partners. Because you're a bitch." He took his hand away from his head and looked at it. There was blood.

"Now then. Where are you going to go? Jump off the balcony?" He came towards me and grabbed my hair.

"You little slimy bitch!" He slapped me hard across the face. The pain made me cry out.

"You made me bleed! You actually thought you could get away from here?" He shoved me into the wall and my face connected with it. I screamed, feeling a sharp burst of pain across my cheek and nose.

He grabbed my hair again, probably to smash my face into the wall once more. I was ready to give up. To wrench myself free, jump off the balcony, and just end it. Carlos was dead anyway. What was the point of any of this?

Then the moment shifted. A convoy of cars, more than I could count, roared into the space we could see from the balcony. Hands stretched out from each vehicle, guns firing at the men below. My breath caught in my throat. Greyson stopped too, clearly wanting to see who had arrived, just as much as I did.

My eyes followed the first door that opened. The person who stepped out.

Carlos.

Carlos was alive.

"The bastard who killed Sandro," Greyson muttered.

"Carlos!" I screamed with everything I had.

His gaze shot up towards me. Then Greyson pulled me back.

"Shut your mouth! I'll deal with that man, and then I'll bury you right next to him since you love him so much." Greyson dragged me along by my hair.

"Let go of me! Get off!" I screamed, pulling and fighting, trying to slow us down. I did not want to be taken somewhere Carlos would not find me.

"Right," Greyson said, and hit me hard in the head. All the strength left my body. I stayed conscious, but I could no longer fight back as he pulled me into a room. Gunshots rang out all around us. Screams. Noise.

Greyson let me drop to the floor and picked up a gun, loading it.

"Didn't think I'd have to deal with this straight off a flight," he muttered.

"You'll have plenty of time to rest in peace." The voice came from the doorway. Carlos. Bitter and cold.

Greyson cursed under his breath. He moved to grab me, to use me as a shield against Carlos, but he was too slow. Two shots in quick succession. One in each arm. Greyson dropped the gun. Another shot to his left leg. His right leg was closer to me, which was probably why Carlos had aimed for the other one. Then another shot to his shoulder.

"Motherfucker!" Greyson howled.

Carlos moved towards me and pulled me up, scooping me into his arms.

"Carlos," I sobbed, burying my face in his shoulder. He was alive. I could feel him, touch him. Carlos was alive, and suddenly life was worth something again. Worth holding onto.

"Gold." He said my name and pulled me closer.

He felt so warm. I felt safe. As long as he was here, everything would be all right.

Carlos took a few steps away from Greyson, his arm wrapped tight around me while I cried into him. Some of his men entered the room.

"He's unconscious, not dead. We're taking him with us. I'm not giving him a quick death after what he did to you." He pulled back slightly and looked at me. I was crying again, but these were tears of relief.

"You're all thin. And your face... Heavens, these cheeks, he slapped you?" He cupped my cheek with one hand, so gently, like he was afraid of hurting me more.

I nodded through my tears.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I'm so sorry I messed up and came too late." He pulled me close again, lifted me off my feet entirely. I wrapped my legs around him and buried my face in his neck. I sobbed as he walked us out of the room.

"Do you have that bitch?" I heard him ask.

"Yes, boss," Bella's voice replied.

"Good. They're both dying a long, slow, painful death. Especially her. That woman. Put them both in the torture room. Have the tools ready soon."