Chapter Eleven
“Whatcha think?”
I glance toward the doorway of the bedroom at the sound of that question, seeing Melody standing there. She twirls, wearing a flowing little black dress and black tights, her lips bright red, a matching bow in her curled blonde hair. My gaze scans her, settling on her feet, on a familiar pair of red Louboutin pumps.
My stomach sinks.
“You look gorgeous,” I say, because it’s true. The girl is stunning. “What’s the occasion?”
“Leo’s taking me out to celebrate,” she says. “It’s our met-iversary.”
“Yeah? How’d you meet?”
“I was walking through the park one afternoon when the beat of an old Tupac song greeted my ears, playing from his phone. It was love at first sound. I mean, of course it didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous. Whoa... second I saw him, I was his. To paraphrase the late great—it was just like Aladdin, bitch... would’ve given him anything he asked for.”
I laugh. “That’s cute. You two... you’re cute.”
“Right? I think so, too.” She grins, leaning against the doorframe. “So, what about you and Lorenzo? What’s the story? Where’d you meet?”
“I thought he told you the story.”
“All I know is you pulled a Cinderella on him,” she says. “He’s not exactly known for offering details.”
“Ah, yeah… we met at a shitty little bar.”
“Drunken hook-up?”
“More like a serious lapse in judgment.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh no, regrets?”
“About him? No.” I stretch my bare legs out along the cold wood. I’m sitting on the floor beside the bed, my back against the wall as my phone charges, wearing only an oversized white t-shirt and underwear. Doesn’t bother me, and it doesn’t seem to bother Melody, either, my almost nakedness, so I’m not in a rush to do anything about it. “I misjudged him, figured he was just like all the others I’ve met, so I took his wallet home from the bar instead of him.”
Thought it was impossible, but her eyes somehow widen even more. “What?”
“I pick-pocketed him. He caught me, though, put me through some hell for it, but it worked out, I guess, since he eventually took me home with him.”
“That’s... wow.”
“So no, I don’t regret it, but man, how stupid was I, thinking I’d get away with that?”
She shakes her head, pushing away from the door. “You’re a brave, brave soul, Morgan, a braver soul than I. First time I met Lorenzo, I was afraid to even go near him.”
“Because of his scar?”
She scoffed. “No, because of how he looks at people, namely how he looked at me.”
“How’s that?”
“Like I’m Tupac and he’s Biggie.”
“Ah, like you might be his enemy.”
I know that look.
He has given it to me a time or two.
It’s not even really a look of anger. It’s a blank stare, devoid of everything imaginable, like he’s trapped in his head somewhere. Cold, and calculating, like he’s plotting how to remove you from his life. Nothing personal about it, just bitch, be gone...
“Bingo! That’s the one!” She smiles again, turning around. “Anyway, Leo should be home soon to pick me up, so off I go to await my chariot.”
“Have fun,” I call out. “Happy anniversary.”
She goes downstairs, and I sit here for a moment before picking up my phone. There are only a few minutes of airtime left on it, maybe ten at most, which means I either need to refill it soon or buy another in order to continue this tiresome routine.
I don’t want to do either option. Last time I bought minutes, I vowed that was it... I would have my daughter back before I ran out of time again.
I want this to be over.
Why isn’t it over yet?
Sighing, I dial the number, bringing the phone to my ear, listening as it rings and rings and rings, ignoring the voice in the back of my mind that begs me to hang up. After the fifth ring, he finally answers, greeting me. “Ah, pretty girl, I was just talking about you.”
“I bet.”
“I was,” he says. “No more than an hour ago. All good things, of course. I would never say a bad word about you. Promises.”
“Yeah, right.”
He laughs. “That is twice now you have spoken, pussycat. You must be feeling chatty today.”
I say nothing, tilting my head, tucking the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I pick the polish from my fingernails. I can tell he’s in a good mood for some reason, which tends to be terrifying with Kassian, but then again, it might be my chance to weasel something out of him.
When he’s in a good mood, he gets sentimental, and he used to open up to me. Sadly, though, it was also those moments when I learned what a cruel, disturbing man he could be.
“Ah, do not go mute on me now,” Kassian says. “Tell me what is on your mind.”
“I’m just... tired,” I admit. “I’m so tired of doing this with you. It’s exhausting. It’s almost been a year.”
“I know,” he says. “I am tired, too. I have been chasing you for a long time, pretty girl.”
“Too long,” I whisper.
“Too long,” he agrees. “Tell me, are you happy?”
I don’t answer that.
I’m not sure why he’s asking.
He’s never cared about my happiness before.
“Are you?” he asks again. “You can tell me. I would like to know. Are you happy with your life?”
“I’d be happier if I had my daughter, Kassian.”
“I am sure you would be,” he says. “Only, you do not want me along with her. No, you seem to have decided you want him.”
Him. Lorenzo.
I know that’s who he means.
“It’s not like that,” I whisper.
“Tell me what it is like then,” he says. “Is this what you want? Does your little scarred plaything make you feel like a woman? Does he take you into his bed and fuck you as you cry? Does he tell you how beautiful your tears are? Does he make you feel safe in his white house with this cute little picket fence around it? Do you feel at home here, pretty girl?”
Coldness rushes through me. Sickness swells in my stomach, bile burning my throat as those words hit me. Oh god.
I exhale shakily.
He described the house.
“I just want to know if you are happy,” he says quietly, “because if you are, I am going to very much enjoy dragging you out of this fucking place and taking you back home with me.”
A loud chime echoes all around me. I flinch, gasping, dropping the phone as panic floods my system. The doorbell. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard it. Nobody even bothers to knock here.
The clicking of high heels trails through the downstairs, heading in the direction of the front door. No. No. No...
Shoving up from the floor, I run out of the bedroom, screaming, “Don’t open it! Melody! Oh god, get away from the door!”
She turns toward me, startled, but it’s too late. It’s too late. Her hand is on the knob and it’s already halfway open before she realizes what I’m saying. She tries to close it again, reacting fast, but he’s much faster. Much, much faster. Something slams against the door, shoving it open the whole way, nearly knocking Melody down as she stumbles a few steps, barely managing to stay on her feet.
Her eyes dart to the door, her voice loud, defensive, as she says, “Excuse me, can I help you?”
I freeze on the stairs, halfway down, my feet unable to move anymore, everything inside of me screaming to go the other way. Go back. Retreat. Run, motherfucker. Run away from him. I could sprint upstairs, make my way out the window, climb onto the roof, maybe even get away from here.
But I can’t. I can’t move. I can’t run.
I blink, and he’s there, standing in the foyer of Lorenzo’s house. He’s dressed impeccably—straight black suit, hair slicked back, shoes glistening as the light hits them. Melody’s too shocked to react right away. She gapes at him as he smiles, stopping just inches from her, his eyes raking her body from head to toe. His gaze stalls at her feet, at the red heels, and he lets out a light laugh, the sound nearly buckling my knees, before he looks back up again.
Common sense kicks into Melody, or maybe it’s just a healthy dose of fear, because she takes a step back, putting a bit more space between them.
It’s not enough.
It’s too late.
He’s too damn fast.
He grabs her before she can run, his thick tattooed hands wrapping around her throat, squeezing, stopping her dead in her tracks. Melody grasps his arms, his hands, trying to rip them away as she struggles, eyes wide with terror. His grip is so strong he lifts her up, onto her tiptoes.
“Kassian!” I cry out, the sound of my voice drawing his attention. His gaze darts my way, gliding along the stairs, his eyes meeting mine.
He loosens his hold on Melody just enough that she can breathe, but he doesn’t let go entirely, no... instead, he swings her around, making her stumble as he drags her to him, her back against his chest. One hand stays on her throat, gripping, while his other arm wraps around her, his hand resting against her stomach, keeping her pinned there.
She struggles, trying to break free, but he’s unwavering, unrelenting.
“Morgan,” she whispers, voice trembling, tears filling her wide eyes.
“Just... relax, okay? Stay calm,” I tell her, my eyes turning to Kassian again as I say, “You’ll be okay.”
His smile grows.
I hope like hell I didn’t just lie to her.
I take a step further down, and another, and another, holding my hands out in front of me in surrender, because I know he doesn’t trust me.
Not now.
Probably not ever again.
I broke any chance of trust when I ran.
“You do not look happy, pretty girl,” he says, scanning me. “But you do look comfortable.”
I’m very much aware I’m not wearing pants. The goods are covered, but not by much. I really don’t need that pointed out right now. This is painful enough to deal with.
“Tell me, does he fuck you in front of everyone? Does he let them see the things he does to you? Does he like to watch?”
“Kassian, can you just—?”
“No!” he shouts, his anger echoing through the downstairs of the house, as he grips Melody tighter, cutting off the air to her lungs. “Answer me. Now.”
“He doesn’t,” I say right away. “He hasn’t.”
Kassian loosens his hold on Melody again, but he’s clearly furious, so I don’t know how long this is going to go on before he actually chokes her.
“Can you let her go?”
“Why should I?”
“Because she has nothing to do with this.”
“So?”
“So, just let her go. She’s not who you want.”
“No, she is not,” he says, pulling her to him rougher, his hand shifting, cupping her chin, forcing her head up so he can look at her tear-streaked face. Kassian only likes brunettes. She doesn’t know how lucky she is. “But she is still very pretty, this one. Melody, yes? I bet you make the most beautiful noises. My men would enjoy making you sing.”
She whimpers, trembling, proving his point.
“Kassian,” I say again, desperate. I can practically see his thought process right now, and it’s all just getting worse by the second. He’ll take her. I know he will. But Melody won’t last a day with those guys. There’s too much goodness, too much emotion, inside of her. They’ll kill her trying to draw it all out. “Let her go.”
“Why?”
“Because you came here for me, remember?” I say, approaching, stopping just within reach. My legs are wobbly, not wanting to be this close to him, but I don’t have a choice, not really. He’s not walking out of here alone. One way or another, he’s taking someone home, so if it’s not me, it’s going to be Melody, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him hurt her. “Look, I’m right here.”
He looks at me when I say that.
And I know what he’s thinking.
He’s thinking he can just take us both.
He’s thinking there’s nobody here to stop him.
He’s thinking how he knows I’m not going to let her go alone, that I won’t throw her to the wolves, because so many times he’s watched me take the brunt of his violence to spare other girls.
He’s thinking too much... way too much... and that’s too damn dangerous. I need him to just react.
I take a deep breath, blurting out words on an exhale. “He doesn’t fuck me in front of other people. You know why that is, Kassian? Because he doesn’t need to in order to feel like a man. Unlike you, he’s strong enough to handle me all by himself.”
I regret it... oh, holy fuck, do I regret it... but I can’t take it back. I won’t take it back. The anger takes over just like it did that night, the night he tried to kill me, the night I damn near died. He shoves Melody away from him, pushing her hard. She stumbles, tripping, crying out when she hits the floor. I can’t help her, though. No, she’s on her own.
Kassian grabs me by my neck, yanking me toward him. My vision blurs right away. He doesn’t cut off my airflow. No, he’s not playing games, not trying to make me uncomfortable. Instead, his fingers press just the perfect spot to block the blood flowing to my brain. I go lightheaded instantly, grabbing his wrists. From the corner of my eye, I see Melody get up and run, but I can’t much dwell on what’s going to happen now. I’ve got thirty seconds at most before it all goes black.
Kassian draws me closer, his lips a breath away from my lips, the world around me fading as he whispers, “Stupid little suka, you will always be mine.”
* * *
Almost a year ago, on a warm summer night, Kassian Aristov took my life.
I had gone unconscious within seconds, as he gripped my throat, hitting my head when I slammed into the floor. The doctors, they couldn’t be certain, but they suspected he’d held on for minutes, letting go just in the nick of time. In the literal sense, I managed to survive, but that doesn’t change the facts.
That night, Kassian took my life. And now, months later, he almost did it a second time.
When I come to, consciousness rushing through me, rousing me from the darkness, I’m surprised... surprised I’m still alive. It’s cold, and I’m shivering, shaking, my teeth chattering as goose bumps pebble my skin. The rigid floor beneath where I lay feels like it’s covered in frost. The air smells stale as I breathe it in.
Every inch of me feels heavy—too heavy. I sit up, my muscles protesting, and fuck, my throat is sore, my mouth so dry that my voice feels hoarse.
I sense right away that it has been longer than a few minutes. Hours, maybe.
Every blink is exaggerated, my head foggy, like something flows through my bloodstream, weighing me down.
Drugged.
Must’ve known, when I came to, I wouldn’t have come quietly.
My head rattles, swimming, as the faintest thumping noise echoes from above. Even in my groggy state, I recognize where I am.
The basement.
I’ve been here before, under the ground, beneath Limerence, in this filthy concrete dungeon.
Been here way too many times.
I try to shift around, metal clanging as heaviness presses against my chest. Reaching up, feeling around in the darkness, my fingers graze over the cold metal wrapped around my neck, secured with a padlock.
He has me chained here, like an animal.
“Wakey, wakey, pretty girl.”
My breath catches as I turn toward the sound of the voice, the chain clattering against the concrete, echoing around us. It’s hard to make out much of anything down here, but I can sense his gaze on me as something in the shadows shifts.
My voice cracks as I ask, “Why am I here?”
He laughs.
Stepping closer, close enough for my eyes to adjust and make out the shape of him, he says, “Still so much that stupid girl.”
“I thought you were taking me home,” I whisper. “Not here.”
Kassian crouches down in front of me, eye-level, looking me in the face. He says nothing for a moment. It’s unnerving.
I swallow thickly, forcing back a swell of emotion.
“Aw, my sweet pussycat,” he says, reaching toward me, nudging my chin before his thumb sweeps across my trembling bottom lip. “Did you think you would just awaken in my bed, all tucked in, snuggling with our precious little kitten? That everything would just be forgiven? Forgotten? Maybe you are stupider than I thought.”
Tears burn my eyes. I know what this room signifies. It’s sink or swim down here. This is where he breaks people, his own little twisted version of boot camp. He locks you in and puts you through hell. The girls at the club, they always called it training. You act up, you go back through training, as if this is just some regular job, like we were being taught to run cash registers instead of being forced into submission so he could sell us off.
I’m not talking about some BDSM shit. Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing even remotely cathartic about what he does. He wants you to go numb. He wants you to give up. He wants you compliant, a pretty little Play-Doh body that he can shape and form however he wants. A few he keeps for his business, but most aren’t seen around again. Some he just sells off like property, while others never even make it out of this basement.
‘She could not be trained.’
He said that about me, too.
Some girls break within hours.
Most take a few days.
After a week, he usually grows tired and discards them, but he’s been trying to break me for years.
“So pretty when you cry,” he says quietly when that first silent tear streams down my cheek. He brushes it away, his touch too gentle. It fucks with my brain. “She got that from you, our sweet kitten. Every time she cried, it reminded me of you. Those soft, shaky breaths. The way you always quivered. She did that, too. Some days, I could not even look at her without reliving what you put me through.”
“I’ve done nothing to you.”
“You ran from me,” he says. “I gave you everything. I even gave you a part of me. Yet you ran.”
“You were hurting me.”
He raises his eyebrows, looking genuinely curious as he asks, “Was I?”
I nod.
“Well,” he says, staring at me for a moment before continuing. “I suppose, then, it makes you happy to know that you have hurt me back.”
“I never wanted to—”
He grabs a hold of the chain around my neck before I can finish, his hand slipping beneath it, twisting it in his fist, tightening it to where it cuts off my words. I can’t breathe. I grab his arm, clawing at it, trying to get him to let go.
My chest feels like it bursts into flames. Oh god.
“You have not felt my hurt yet, but you will,” he says, his voice low. “By the time I am through with you, there will be nothing left for anyone else.”
He lets go, and I inhale sharply, vision blurring. I’m hyperventilating, trying to calm down, but he’s still right in front of me.
It’s overwhelming.
“Not that anyone else wants you,” he adds. “Especially not that freak. Even he does not want you now. He used you up and now he is done. You are not worth it to him.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper. “Lorenzo isn’t like you.”
Something flashes in Kassian’s face.
He laughs again.
He’s laughing at me.
“Oh, pussycat, you were not falling for him, were you? Did you think he would want to keep you? Oh, this is cute, suka. You gave him my pussy, and you thought you could give him my heart, too? You belong with me. Even he sees that now.”
“You’re wrong.”
“How do you think I found you? How do you think I knew where he lived? He told me, pretty girl... your scarred little plaything gave you up today.”
“You’re lying.”
He stares at me, unwavering, as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cell phone. After a moment, his eyes flicker toward it, and he reads out a phone number. Lorenzo’s phone number.
“Do you recognize it?” he asks.
I glare at him. “That proves nothing.”
He presses a button before holding the phone up. The harsh glow in the darkness makes me squint, and I blink a few times, realizing he’s showing me a text message.
14682 Liden Blvd, Queens
You want her, take her.
Leave everyone else alone.
“No.” I shake my head, the chain clanging. “No way, that’s... no.”
“It is right here in front of your eyes.” He shoves the phone into my face, smacking me with it. “Is that not his number? Did I not find you there?”
“Yes, but...” My heart is battering my rib cage. I feel sick. “He wouldn’t.”
“Threatening everyone he cares for must have done the trick,” he says, an edge to his voice. “Because you, suka, do not fall into that category. He would not sacrifice his family, his friends, for a piece of used-up pussy that half of this city has fucked!”
I snap, as he spits those words in my face, his anger slamming into me, fueling my own. I smack the phone out of his hand and send it flying across the room, hitting the concrete face-down, the glow extinguishing, the text message gone. “I hate you.”
Kassian raises up when I say that, towering over me. I glare at him in the darkness, refusing to back down, refusing to look away.
“Hate me all you want,” he says. “I do not mind. But until you love me again, suka, until you finally learn your place, you will stay right where you are. So it is in your best interest, I think, to just give in... especially since being with your kitten requires getting out of here.”
He walks away, snatching up his phone as he goes. I hear his shoes on the creaky wooden stairs leading out of the basement, into his office, light basting through as the door opens, music assaulting my ears.
I squeeze my eyes shut, to block it out, before everything around me grows dark again.
There are at least a dozen locks on the basement door, all of which only he has the keys to open. The odds are slim of getting out of here without his blessing, which brings me to a crippling realization.
“And she never saw her daughter again,” I whisper to myself. “The end.”