Zeke turns to me, leaning forward to wipe the blood off my face gently. His words are soft, but his threat is clear. “See what happens if you push me and overstep your place? And I decide what that place is. Not you.”
Chapter 28
Lena
After murdering Mary Beth in cold blood, Zeke has well and truly proven his point. If I displease him in any way, I could be next. Zeke calmly resumes his meal, unbothered by his dead lover’s body lying inches away from him. The fact that he can eat and has an appetite at all after what he just did shows me how evil he is.
I sit, frozen in horror, my food untouched before me, as his men silently remove Mary Beth’s body, leaving behind a trail of blood in their wake, and I find myself numbly wondering how they will get the stain out of the wood or if it will forever become ingrained, a permanent reminder. I didn’t like Mary Beth, but even after everything she did to me, I feel only sadness that she met such a tragic end.
Zeke looks over at me, seeming almost surprised by my reaction. “I did it for you, you know. To protect you. She wanted you gone and would have killed you if I didn’t stop her.”
I force myself to look up and thank him. “Yes, you saved me. Thank you. I think I’m just in shock, I’ve never seen anyone die before…” My voice sounds hollow and strange. I guess I am in shock.
Zeke’s expression softens. “Of course, I forget how innocent you are, how delicate. But you know you don’t need to be afraid. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
His words don’t offer the comfort they intend. I know that he will kill anyone who comes close to me. Zeke’s warped viewof protection will leave me isolated and afraid to let anyone close for fear he will hurt them. Still, I nod. “I know.”
“It’s been an emotional evening, I’m sure you are tired. Go to bed, I’ve got a long night ahead of me, and we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” Zeke moves to stand behind me, placing his hands firmly on my shoulders and kissing me on the head like a child.
He thinks he’s being magnanimous, kind even, but somehow, I feel more like a naughty school kid getting sent to their room without dinner. Even so, I jump at the chance to get out of this room, away from the smell of blood and violence, and back into the relative safety of my room here. I try not to imagine what is going to be keeping him busy tonight, or what fresh horrors await me tomorrow.
I stand unsteadily on shaking legs. “Can I put Mia to bed first?” I tentatively ask, aching to hold her again.
Zeke frowns, and my stomach drops. The last thing I want him to see is Mia as competition for my attention and affection, who knows what he might do to her. “We have a nanny to do all of that stuff. You don’t need to work or worry about housekeeping or childcare; all you need to focus on is being a good girl.”
The turn of phrase disgusts me, but I nod and attempt a weak, weary smile. “Yes, Zeke, of course. You take such good care of us.”
Zeke smiles, too egotistical to realize a blatant lie when it’s said right to his face. “Good.” He leans forward and plants a kiss on my lips. I force myself not to move, not to react. I let out a breath I’d been holding when he pulls away, grateful he didn’t want a proper kiss from me. “Goodnight, Lena,” he says softly.
“Goodnight, Zeke.” I make sure I don’t walk too quickly, not wanting him to see how eager I am to get away from him. One of the guards accompanies me to my room. I’m too bone weary to attempt an escape. To do so at this point would be reckless anyway. I need a plan to get the men and Mia out. I’m not leaving without them.
“I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” the guard tells me. Of course, we both know he’s not there to cater to my needs, only to make sure I don’t leave. I nod and close the door behind me. As I hear the lock, I walk into the bathroom and turn the shower on, scrubbing every inch of skin, sobbing as the water turns red. Showered and in the silk nightgown laid out for me, I climb into the king-sized bed and curl into a ball.
Despite how tired and emotionally drained I am, I can’t imagine sleeping. I’m too worried about what’s happening to the men, what torture Zeke is inflicting on them. I worry for Mia too, as she is frightened and in a strange place without her mother, probably crying herself to sleep. I am also scared for myself. Every creak and groan has me straining to listen, for I fear Zeke will come to my bed tonight.
***
Miraculously, sleep found me eventually, and Zeke didn’t come for me. But I know he will soon. After being instructed by my guard to get dressed and being fed a meagre breakfast as part of the new diet Zeke has me on, I spend the morning pacing the room, plotting and practicing. I need to put on a good performance for Zeke today, or I fear we’re doomed. Perhaps we already are, and I’m crazy for thinking I can alter our fates. My requests to see Mia are all denied, though they at least show me some footage on the nanny cam. She seems safe and sound, even if she is clearly confused. After a lunch of limp salad, Zeke finally comes to get me.
“Good afternoon, Lena, I hope you’re feeling refreshed. Do you like your new clothes?” he asks, nodding to my outfit.
I hate them. I look like a tacky trophy wife, and they’re all at least a size too small. Today’s monstrosity is a blue bandage dress and heels that would be more appropriate for the club than hanging around the house. Yet again, I feel as if Zeke is play-acting the role of a criminal kingpin. His desire to put his biker past behind him in favor of a Mafia empire leads him to copy from the movie playbook. I imagine any real Mafia members would laugh at his poor imitations.
“Yes, they’re beautiful, thank you,” I lie.
The corridor smells of damp and fresh paint, a nauseating mix that clings to my nostrils. The walls sweat with the ghosts of old mildew and new secrets. Zeke walks ahead of me like he owns the world; his gait is slow and arrogant, a king in his castle, his boots strike the stone floor like war drums. He doesn’t look back to see if I’m following. He doesn’t have to. Even if he couldn’t hear the clumsy clacking of my uncomfortable heels as I try to keep up, he knows I am right behind him. I have no other choice.
I follow because there is nowhere else to go. After all, Zeke has the men I love chained up down here, and although I know I won’t like what I’m about to see, I’m like a moth drawn to a flame. I have to see them, even if it causes me pain. I follow Zeke like the obedient housewife he wants me to be. For now, my every move has to be part of the lie that might save us all. A lie I’ve rehearsed in whispers and in silence, in the bathroom mirror, and in my sleep, each version of the Lena I’m to become here is colder than the last.
I’m playing a part. But the stage is slick with blood. I pray I’ve not rehearsed for an audience of the dead.
The basement door groans as it opens, a hollow, theatrical sound. The harsh light of the singular bulb that hangs overhead inside cuts through the darkness with cruel precision, making everything look harsher. The shadows like wounds, concrete walls sweating and cold.
Three chairs sit in the center of the room, bolted to the floor. The solemn stage for destruction. Cole, Rex, and Judge are strapped to them, slumped, gagged, and bruised. Their heads tilt at angles that speak of exhaustion, not surrender. Doc lies against the far wall, chained by the wrists above his head, slumped like a rag doll, a thin line of dried blood cuts across his temple like someone was trying to pry his brilliant mind open to see what makes him tick.
Their chests rise and fall with ragged, stubborn breaths.
They are alive. That is the thread, as thin as a spider’s web, to which I clutch. They are cracked, fraying, but intact, not yet broken beyond repair. Even as the rest of me wants to collapse into the concrete, to scream until my throat bleeds, I hold onto that thread tightly. Because if I let go now, I lose them all.
