It was peaceful and serene.
No screaming.
No orders.
No nothing from Hector.
The hot water felt like the first kind thing that had happened in weeks, washing over me until my skin prickled red. For a few stolen minutes, I almost forgot where I was.Almost.The tiles reeked of bleach; the drain was clogged with some of my hair, and the bruises on my ass still smarted a little when the spray hit them. Reality never let me drift too far.
When I came out, Becca was still wrapped in a thin towel, her damp hair sticking to her face. She looked younger like that…fragile, almost like the girl I used to sneak into the movies with, stuffing candy into her hoodie pockets while she dared me to torment the ushers.
We didn't talk too much, just moved around one another in silence, grateful for the absence of his voice barking orders, or threats. It was the first time in weeks I could hear my own thoughts. For the first time in a month, Becca's breathing wasn't hitching in fear every five seconds, but the silence was a double-edged sword. WithoutHector's presence, the apartment was too quiet. Eerily quiet.
Like the calm before something worse.
The clock ticked loudly on the wall, every second hammering at my nerves. I sat cross-legged on the floor, towel clutched at my chest, and whispered, "Feels too normal without him here, doesn't it?"
Becca nodded slowly, her eyes distant. "Yes. Too normal."
We let the stillness stretch, neither of us wanting to say it too loud because he would beat our asses if he heard us. It was so peaceful without him. We dreaded what he'd do when he walked back through the door.
The guards didn't bother us at all, which I also found odd, but I wasn't about to complain. Just Beck and me alone, like old times. The only difference was that we were in captivity and couldn't speak above a whisper with the cameras tracking our every move.
We even stepped out onto the veranda, towels still wrapped around our bodies. This little bit of time afforded us some modesty since we've been without clothes this whole month. A light breeze rolled off the mountains and washed over our bare skin. For a moment, I closed my eyes and just breathed in the fresh air. Not the stale heaviness of the apartment. It wasn't freedom, not even close, but it was the closest thing we had in a while.
This was the calmest I had felt in a month. Even Becca loosened up and relaxed as we leaned over the wrought-iron railing. Below us, the Olympic-sized pool glittered under the estate's wrap-around lights. Beyondthat, I saw maybe ten other buildings in the distance along the property—cold, gray concrete, scattered across the compound. It was too quiet. Too still for that many small houses.
The serene moment was shattered when the veranda camera crackled to life. Hector's voice slithered through the speaker, making me jump.
"You two, get your asses inside. Julio will drop Layla off in a few minutes. You're to tend to her injuries. Looks like my brothers took things a little too far."
His laugh—low and cruel—sent a spike of fear down my spine. How I hated this motherfucker. I couldn't wait until Atlas got his hands on him. I never lost hope that he would find us. He is coming, and along with that, a wrath I am grateful not to be on the receiving end of.
His voice rattled on. "Once she is patched up, she will sleep in your cage, green eyes. I want you in my bed tonight. Becca will also sleep in her cage. Now get the fuck inside before I sic the guards on you both!"
The speaker clicked off.
Becca and I scrambled into the parlor. My stomach was knotted so tightly, I thought I might vomit. My time had come. The thought of his sweaty, skanky body beside me, and inside me, made me shake. I prayed silently for a damn miracle, but miracles don't exist here. Five minutes later, Julio barged through the door, carrying Layla in his arms.
My breath caught, and I gasped. She was naked. Her skin was painted red. Blood covered her in streaks and patches, as if someone had dragged her through hell and tossed her back out. Julio's expression pissed me off.
He looked smug, almost entertained.
"Grab some towels and put them on the bed," he ordered, his voice sharp…eyes cold.
I shot to my feet, racing to the linen closet. My hands trembled as I grabbed full-sized bath towels, stacks of washcloths, peroxide and bandages. By the time I returned, Becca was frozen beside Julio, staring at the broken girl he held. I spread the towels across the comforter with shaky precision. Julio dropped Layla on top of them with a twisted gentleness, then shrugged. His smirk was pure venom.
"Looks like Juan went a little too far this time."
His eyes slid over Becca, raking down her trembling body.
His grin widened. "That would've been you if my brother hadn't kept you here with your little whore friend. Consider yourself lucky—for now."
And just like that, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving us with Layla's bloody, broken body and the suffocating stench of terror hanging in the air.
Chapter 17
The Hunter
