Chapter 43 Betrayal Hit Hard
Nora blinked hard, trying to clear the remaining fog from her vision. The blurry shapes around her slowly sharpened into distinct figures. The faces of the people in black robes came into focus one by one, each expression a mixture of cold judgment and dark anticipation. The candlelight flickered across the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that made the symbols carved there seem to move and writhe.
Her wrists ached from the metal restraints biting into her skin. She tried to pull against them instinctively, but they held firm. Panic started to claw its way up her throat as the full reality of her situation settled over her. She was tied down. She was trapped.
Nora’s eyes darted frantically around the room, taking in every detail, searching for any possible escape route. But there were no windows, no visible doors except the one behind the crowd of robed figures. The walls were solid stone, ancient and impenetrable. The only light came from candles positioned at intervals around the room, their flames casting an eerie glow over everything.
Then her gaze landed on a face that made her heart stop completely.
Standing among the crowd, dressed in the same black ceremonial robes as everyone else, was Beverley.
Nora’s breath caught in her chest. Beverley was alive. Not just alive, but here, in the compound, wearing their robes, standing with them like she belonged. Like she had never left.
For a moment, Nora thought she must be hallucinating, that the drugs they had used on her were causing her to see things that weren’t there. But no, Beverley was real. She was standing there, very much alive.
“Beverley?” Nora’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper, disbelieving. “You’re… you’re alive?”
Beverley’s lips curved into a small, cold smile. She didn’t respond, just stood there watching Nora with an expression that was impossible to read.
Before Nora could say anything else, the crowd parted like a dark sea, creating a path. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as a figure emerged from the shadows at the back of the room.
The Mafia King.
He walked with slow, deliberate steps, his presence commanding absolute silence. He still wore his mask, that horrible mask that had haunted Nora’s nightmares for months.
He approached the table where Nora was restrained, his footsteps echoing off the stone floor. When he reached her, he stood there for a long moment, just looking down at her with those eyes visible through the mask’s openings.
“Hello, Nora,” he said, his voice muffled slightly by the mask but still clear. “I told you I would find you, didn’t I? I told you that you could run, but you would never truly escape.”
“How did you find me?” Nora demanded, trying to keep her voice steady despite the terror coursing through her veins.
The Mafia King tilted his head slightly. “Did you really think you could hide from me? I knew I would find you eventually. And here you are.”
Without warning, his fist connected with Nora’s face. The impact sent stars exploding across her vision, pain radiating through her skull. She cried out, tasting blood immediately in her mouth.
He hit her again, this time in the ribs. Nora felt something crack, the pain so intense it stole her breath. She tried to curl in on herself, to protect her body, but the restraints held her flat and exposed on the table.
Another blow landed on her stomach. Nora gasped, choking, unable to draw breath. The room spun around her. She could hear herself making sounds, whimpering, pleading, but it was as if the noises were coming from someone else.
The Mafia King beat her systematically, methodically, each strike placed with precision to cause maximum pain. Her face. Her ribs. Her legs. Her arms. Anywhere he could reach. Blood ran from her nose, from her split lip, from cuts that opened up across her skin.
“Please,” Nora managed to gasp out between blows. “Please stop.”
But he didn’t stop. He continued until Nora was bleeding from multiple wounds, until her body was screaming in agony, until she could barely think through the pain. The people in robes watched silently, not one of them moving to intervene.
Finally, the Mafia King stepped back, breathing slightly harder from the exertion. He looked down at Nora’s battered, bleeding form with satisfaction.
Nora could barely see through the blood and swelling in her eyes. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Every breath sent sharp pains through her broken ribs. She had never felt so helpless, so completely at someone’s mercy.
Through her blurred vision, she saw the Mafia King gesture to someone in the crowd. Beverley stepped forward, moving to stand beside him.
“You have something to tell her, don’t you, Beverley?” the Mafia King said.
Beverley looked at Nora for a long moment before speaking. When she did, her voice was quiet but clear.
“I gave up your escape plan,” Beverley said simply. “Yours and Noah’s. I told him everything.”
Nora felt like she had been punched all over again. “What?” she whispered. “No. No, you helped us. You were with us. You got shot trying to escape.”
“I gave him your plan,” Beverley repeated, her tone matter-of-fact. “The plan was to stop you that night. The gun was supposed to stop you and Noah, not hit me. But you were both too fast. The bullet struck me in the shoulder instead.”
“I don’t understand,” Nora said, tears mixing with the blood on her face. “You told us you wanted to escape. You said you hated what he did to you. Why would you betray us?”
Beverley’s expression shifted, something soft entering her eyes as she glanced at the Mafia King. “Because I’ve always had a crush on him,” she said quietly. “From the moment I came here, I was drawn to him. I couldn’t bring myself to betray him.”
Nora stared at her in disbelief, unable to process what she was hearing. “You had a crush on him? After everything he did to you?”
“You don’t understand,” Beverley said. “I couldn’t betray him. Not even for freedom. So I gave your plan to him the moment you shared it with me.”
“So you betrayed us instead,” Nora whispered, her voice breaking.
Beverley didn’t respond, just stood there beside the Mafia King, her loyalty clear in the way she positioned herself near him.
Nora felt sick. All this time, she had believed that Beverley was a victim like her, that they had both been trying to escape. But Beverley had chosen this.
The Mafia King looked down at Nora again, his eyes glittering through the mask. And Nora realized with dawning horror that her escape had never been real. They had let her run just far enough to feel free before dragging her back.
She was trapped. And this time, there might be no way out.