Chapter 90 Torture
Elsie
Pain did not come all at once.
It arrived in layers, like something being built carefully and patiently by someone who knew exactly how much a body could hold before it broke.
I woke hanging.
My arms were stretched above me, wrists bound tight enough that my fingers had gone numb. Cold iron pressed into my skin. When I shifted, even slightly, fire shot through my shoulders. The room swayed, or maybe it was just me. Stone walls. No windows. The air was damp and stale, thick with the smell of rust and old water.
I swallowed and tasted blood.
A chair scraped softly across the floor.
“You’re awake sooner than I expected,” the stoutly built man said. I heard some of the men call him boss, others called him Diego.
His voice was calm. Almost too gentle. That frightened me more than shouting ever could.
I lifted my head. He stood a few steps away, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his dark eyes studying me with the patience of a man who had nowhere else to be. In his hand was a knife that had dried blood, it was likely used on someone else.
“You killed my son,” he went on, like he was explaining a fact to a child. “So I promised you something in return.” He walked closer. “The worst pain.”
The knife touched my skin, and he dragged it down slowly, tearing my skin as it went.
I screamed as sharp pain shot through me. I felt my own blood running down my thighs and dropping on the concrete floor.
The sound tore out of me before I could stop it, raw and humiliating. My body jerked against the restraints, metal biting deeper as if to punish me for trying. Diego didn’t flinch. He watched me with a satisfying smirk. He waited until my breath broke into uneven gasps.
“Good,” he said softly. “You feel it.”
The blade moved again, slowly on my second thigh.
This,” he says calmly, almost conversational, “is for my son.”
The knife pressed again. I counted without meaning to.
One.
My body jerks. My teeth chatter violently, not from cold but from shock. I tried to pull away, but the restraints bite into me harder. There’s nowhere to go. There had never been anywhere to go.
“You screamed when you died the first time,” he continued, his voice low, amused. “Did you know that? My boy screamed my name.”
“That’s a lie,” I managed, my throat raw, tears blurring my vision.
He chuckled. “You don’t get to decide what’s true anymore.”
The blade moves again, tearing my skin.
Two.
I sobbed this time. Loud. Ugly. I hated that he heard it. I hated that my body betrayed me, that pain owned me so completely I couldn’t think straight. I focused on the ceiling, on the cracks running through it, anything to stay present.
Every cut felt like a message.
You are nothing.
You are alone.
You will not survive this.
“I promised myself,” Diego said, wiping the blade casually, “that I wouldn’t rush this. You don’t just kill someone who kills your child. You teach them what loss feels like.”
Three.
Four.
I lost track of how many times the knife tore my flesh, my stomach, my arms, legs, shoulder, thighs, all over except my face.
My skin burned. My head swam. I tasted salt and blood and fear. Somewhere inside the battle, something hardens. Something ugly and unbreakable.
I thought of Caleb.
His hands on me that morning on that dining table. His mouth. His lies. Fuck him.
The betrayal crashed over me harder than the pain ever could.
I trusted you. I trusted all of them. Each time I trusted him, he broke me. But this, is one I’d never forgive.
The Lancasters didn’t just hand me over. They delivered me. Wrapped me up and called it necessary.
“I want you awake for all of it,” Diego continued. “I want you begging. I want you wishing you could go back and die the first time.”
He leaned closer. I felt his breath near my ear.
“You’re going to die a thousand times, lady.”
The knife dragged again.
I scream until my voice breaks.
I didn’t fight anymore. I couldn’t. My body was shaking too hard, exhausted beyond dignity. I let the tears fall freely. Let him see them. Let him think he’s winning.
Inside, something else is growing.
Deeper Hate.
I swore it silently, like a vow written into my bones.
If I survived this, I would take everything from the Lancasters.
Not just their power.
Not just their money.
Their names.
Their legacies.
Their blood.
I wanted power so high they have to look up just to remember I exist. I want them beneath me, crawling, broken, praying for mercy the way I once did.
Unless Diego kills me here, my spirit will never rest.
And if he does kill me? I will haunt them.
The blade dropped from my skin, replaced by something worse—anticipation.
Diego straightens, studying me like a piece of work he’s proud of. “You know what comes next?” he asks lightly. I don’t answer. “My favorite part,” he says. “The teeth.” My heart stuttered. “I’ll pluck them out one by one,” he continues calmly, like he’s describing a recipe. “Slow. Careful. You’ll feel every single one. You’ll wake up tomorrow and beg me to finish it.” He smiled. “And I won’t.”
He lifted the blade again.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my whole body curling inward as much as the restraints allowed.
This is it, I thought.
This is where I disappear.
Then—
“Enough, Diego.”
The voice cuts through the room like a command carved from steel.
Everything freezes.
I force my eyes open.
She stands there like she owns the place. Mrs. Lancaster.
Her gaze flicked to me briefly and she shook her head slightly. “You’ve had your fun,” she says coolly. “That’s enough for now.”
Diego scoffed but stepped back.
My vision blurs. The room tilted. My body finally gave up.
The last thing I saw before the dark took me was her cold face.
Then everything goes blank.