Chapter 60 60. Shut Up
"No." She was shaking her head. "No, that's not-" She collapsed onto the floor.
"Victor bailed me out of a lawsuit three years ago." I settled into the couch across from her, savoring the moment. "Cost him twenty-five million dollars. Quite the debt. So I joined his operation. Trafficking pays better than film, as it turns out."
Her lips trembled before she pressed them tight.
"You were supposed to be one of many. A simple transaction." I leaned forward. "Your mother sold you for fifty thousand dollars. Did you know that? Fifty thousand. That's all you were worth to her."
"Shut up."
"But then you grabbed that knife." I smiled. "Stabbed Victor twice, which was quite impressive for someone your size."
"I said shut up!" Her voice cracked.
"The moment I found you, covered in his blood, shaking and trying to lie your way out of it-I knew you were special. Not just another product. No, you were something better." I watched her eyes widen.
"It won't work." She lifted her chin despite the exhaustion. "Whatever sick plan you have. He doesn't love me."
The laugh that escaped me was genuine. "Oh, Camila. That's where you're wrong. He does. And do you want to know how I'm certain?"
She said nothing.
"Because he's done something for you that he's never done for anyone else on earth. You just haven't seen it yet."
Something flickered in her eyes. Hope. Doubt. I couldn't tell which.
"Love made him vulnerable. Made him weak. Made him mine." I crouched in front of her. "Boys?"
Four of my men entered. Tall, broad, strong enough to hold a stubborn Camila.
Terror replaced the defiance in her face. "What are you-"
"Your phone, Camila."
"I don't have it."
"Spread her arms."
They grabbed her, hauling her upright. She thrashed, but she was weak.
I reached for her blouse, finding the phone tucked against her ribs. One sharp pull and the fabric tore, its buttons clattering across the floor.
Her scream was raw and desperate. I picked up the phone, unlocking it with her face while she struggled.
Airplane mode. Voice memo recording. Twenty-three minutes.
"Clever," I murmured, deleting it. "But ultimately pointless."
"Let me go!" Her voice broke. "Please-"
"Take her to the holding room."
They dragged her toward the basement. She kicked, twisted, screamed until her voice gave out. The door slammed, muffling her cries.
I stood there for a moment, phone in hand, listening to the silence.
Then I climbed the stairs.
Nadia sat on my bed, typing on her laptop.
"She's here," I said, tossing Camila's phone onto the dresser. "Inject her when she's passed out, and multiply the dosage every night."
"Every night? Are you fucking kidding me? That'd be too much in her system."
"That's exactly what I want before she escapes. Do it."
Nadia's jaw tightened, but she nodded.
After months of planning, watching, waiting-everything was finally coming together.
\--Present night-Third night of captivity--
The basement smelled like concrete. I descended slowly, savoring each step.
She sat on the floor, head pressed against the cold wall. The raggy shirt they'd given her hung off one shoulder.
Two days had drained the fire from her eyes, left her skin pale and clammy. Dark shadows bruised the hollows beneath her lashes.
She looked up as I entered, and I saw it-the moment her spirit tried to rally despite her body giving up.
"I heard you haven't eaten and drank in two days," I observed. "Trying to starve yourself? Or just afraid of what's in it?"
"Let me go, you psycho." Barely a whisper.
"No."
"What do you want?" Her voice gained strength. "What's the point of keeping me here, doing nothing?"
I pulled the chair closer, sitting just beyond her reach. "The point? You're leverage. Bait. The string that makes my brother dance."
"Then you've already failed. He won't come."
"Won't he?" I tilted my head. "He's already tearing New York apart looking for you. Hasn't slept nor eaten. Just searches."
"Why are you doing this to him?" Her eyes glistened. "Are you too weak to fight fair?"
I leaned back. "Tell me something. When Lucien touches you, what does he say? Does he whisper that you're his? That every part of you belongs to him?"
She turned her face away.
"I'm genuinely curious. Does he lose control with you? Or does he stay calculated even then?" I paused. "If I touched you... would it destroy him? Or would he just move on to the next distraction?"
"Stop talking..."
"These weak protests of yours are quite telling, actually. Can't help but think how good of a submissive you'll be," I stood, deliberately slow. Let her see the predatory shift in my pants. Let the fear build.
She pressed harder against the wall as I moved closer.
"Since my entire goal is to break Lucien, it would be wasteful to have his most prized possession here and not..." I crouched beside her, hand landing on her knee. "...investigate what makes you so special."
"Don't touch me!" She tried to jerk away.
My hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her throat. "When I'm finished with you, you'll beg for my attention every night you're locked in this room. You'll forget his name entirely."
The terror in her eyes was exquisite.
I released her, standing and adjusting my jacket.
"But not tonight. I'm hosting a party with important people. After they leave, I'll send someone to bathe you properly and oil you up just how I like my ladies." I moved toward the door. "Rest while you can, Camila. You'll need your strength soon."
\--Camila's POV--
"I hope you rot," I whispered, but he was already gone.
The door closed and locked. The silence pressed down on me like a weight.
I pulled my knees to my chest. My wrists burned where the rope had rubbed them raw until it was untied. My head pounded-either from the starvation or dehydration or the constant, gnawing fear.
Probably all three.
And... Lucien.
His name struck a chord in my chest. I've said countless prayers since the day I was taken captive, and none included a prayer for him to find me.
Because I couldn't tell anymore which was real. The fear in Lucien's eyes when I was hurt? Or the calculation Rafael described?
Was he even worried?
Fresh tears spilled over. I was so tired. Every part of me ached. The hunger was a constant gnaw. The thirst made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth.
But I wouldn't eat what they brought. Wouldn't drink except for that one moment of weakness yesterday when I'd been too desperate to care.
Staying alert meant staying alive.
I wiped my eyes roughly, looking around the room again. Concrete walls. One small window too high to reach. A cot I refused to use. The bucket in the corner that made humiliation burn through me every time I had to use it.
And there- My breath stopped.
On the floor inches from where I sat, partially hidden by shadow, was a key. Small silver like it had been dropped. Or placed.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Was this another trap? Another way for Ronan to break me?
I stretched my hands to it, and once my hands closed around the cold metal, I felt something other than the despair I'd been feeling for three nights.
But do I have a chance to escape from this mansion without being spotted...?