Chapter266 Clifton, I Don't Think I'll Last Until You Come Back

Chapter266 Clifton, I Don't Think I'll Last Until You Come Back
The answer didn't actually matter to Miranda.
She had asked the question to buy herself a moment, because she had already clocked the black leather whip looped at Isabella's waist.
Isabella smiled at her. "So what if I did? You think someone's coming to save you?"
"Let me tell you something." The smile turned ugly. "Nobody is coming."
She stood and began to pace, slow and deliberate.
"Celeste has already taken control of the Prescott Group. The Martinez family is her most important business partner now."
She looked back at Miranda. "And as for your family, I've made sure no one even knows you're missing yet. There's no one left to help you."
The moment the words landed, Isabella stopped holding anything back. Her hand went to the whip at her hip and she snapped it free.
She cracked it once through the air. It connected across Miranda's arm, slicing clean through the fabric and the skin beneath.
First strike, and Miranda was already bleeding.
The pain hit like current through every nerve in her body. She bit down on her lip and didn't make a sound.
Her vision went gray at the edges. Cold sweat slid down her temples.
To Isabella, the silence was a taunt.
"Let's see how long that lasts."
She raised the whip again.
It came down again. And again. And again.
Miranda curled in on herself and covered what she could, but the whip found her back, her legs, leaving lines of fire across her skin.
Isabella finally stopped when the old injury in her own wrist began to pull. She stood over Miranda, breathing hard.
Still not enough.
Everything she had endured abroad, this hardly scratched the surface.
Isabella turned and went back to the door. She returned with another bucket.
She poured it over Miranda without a word.
The icy water on open wounds hit with a pain so blinding it nearly pulled her under entirely.
Then Isabella left. The iron door shut. The basement went silent.
--
By morning, Miranda was running out of time.
She was in pain everywhere. Her wounds under the wet clothing had started to itch and burn with the early signs of infection. Her nose had gone stuffy. Her head felt foggy and slow.
She recognized the feeling. Her fever was starting.
She couldn't wait any longer.
The one thing that had kept her going through the night: every time she was conscious, she worked the rope against the wall. She didn't stop.
Finally, with one last, full-strength pull, the rope snapped.
Miranda worked her swollen, numb hands open and closed, then reached carefully into her inner pocket.
The phone was soaked.
She pressed it against her body and used the dry lining of her shirt to wipe it down, rubbing until it was as dry as she could get it.
After a long moment, she pressed the power button.
One second. Two.
The screen lit up.
She went straight to her contacts, ready to call her brother.
Then an incoming call notification appeared on screen.
Harrison.
Miranda didn't hesitate for a single second. She picked up.
Every second of call time right now was worth more than anything else.
The moment the line connected, she pressed the phone to her mouth and forced every bit of strength she had into her voice.
"I've been kidnapped by the Martinez family—"
A sharp crack of air came from above.
The whip landed across the back of her hand. Her fingers went numb and the phone flew out of her grip and skidded across the floor.
Isabella was back.
She had a clear view of what Miranda had just done, and the rage on her face was incandescent.
"You have some nerve!"
The phone screen had shattered but it was still on. The call was still connected.
Miranda threw herself forward across the floor toward it and screamed with everything she had left.
"Call the police! I've been kidnapped!"
Another strike, this one directly onto the phone.
A sharp crack. The screen went black. The handset split apart.
Then Isabella turned the whip on Miranda again.
But this time, something had changed.
Miranda rolled sideways and the strike missed. She kept moving, pulled herself off the floor, and lunged directly toward Isabella.
Isabella's expression flickered into disbelief before erupting into fury.
"You dare—"
Miranda grabbed the other end of the whip with both hands and yanked.
Isabella hadn't expected it. The whip was pulled out of her grip.
Miranda didn't pause. She turned it and brought it down across Isabella's body the way Isabella had done to her.
Isabella screamed.
Miranda turned and ran for the stairs.
One step. Two steps.
The light coming through the door above her was the closest thing to hope she had seen in more than a day.
She hit the top of the stairs and the two bodyguards standing in the doorway were like walls.
Ten minutes later, her hands and feet were tied with heavier rope.
Isabella had her whip back.
She looked at Miranda trussed in the corner of the basement and something in her expression had come loose completely.
She beat her again until she ran out of breath.
Then she picked up a tablet from the bodyguard, opened a video, and dropped it on the floor in front of Miranda.
On the screen: a Prescott Group press conference. Celeste standing at the podium, announcing herself as acting chairperson of the board.
Isabella stood over her, her voice dripping satisfaction.
"You see that? Stop waiting for anyone to come for you."
"You're going to spend the rest of your life in this hole. And every time I'm in a bad mood, you'll know exactly what that feels like."
She turned and walked out with her bodyguards.
The door locked behind her.
Miranda had not eaten in over a day. Her wounds had been doused with cold water twice. The fever was creeping in at the edges of her thoughts.
She lay down on the cold floor, her eyes going to the locked iron door.
Her vision slowly blurred.
Her eyes closed.
Clifton.
I don't think I'm going to make it until you come back.