Chapter 27
The man behind her, Favio, kissed her neck again. She moaned softly just to mock me.
“You know,” she whispered, tapping her finger against the chain holding my left wrist, “I thought this moment would make me feel angry. But it doesn’t. I feel high. Like I just married a God and killed his first wife all in one day.”
I looked at her through swollen eyes and spat blood straight into her face. She flinched. Wiped it slow. Then smiled like a lunatic.
‘You’re going to regret that,” she whispered.
kept my eyes locked on hers. No fear. Just hatred carved deep. She stood up and snapped her ingers.
‘Make her beg,” she said to the guards waiting outside. “Break her ribs. Take her voice. But don‘ touch her face. I want that pretty when I hang it on my wall.”
‘You still think you’ve won?” I murmured.
She turned back to me. Eyes wild. Curious.
‘Sweetheart, I’m married to your death now. I fuck power and I drink lies for breakfast. I’ve got your name erased from every record that matters. Jeremiah’s dead. Peter’s ashes are dust You’re just a ghost with lipstick.”
laughed. Slow and cracked. She hated that.
‘You’re trembling,” I said.
Her face twitched. She tried to laugh it off, but I saw it… the doubt. The crack in her delusion.
‘You had to fake cancer, fake a baby, fake love… just to be me,” I added. “And even now, with a your silk and your men, you still feel my shadow choking your neck.”
‘Shut up,” she hissed.
‘You’re still the bitch who chased crumbs,” I whispered. “I was the feast.”
Elodie screamed and threw her heel across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. The man
behind her tried to pull her back.
She turned around and screamed, “I said make her beg!”
The guards stepped in. And I braced myself. Not because I was scared. But because I knew this
was war now.
I don’t know how long days passed since they locked me in this goddamn place.
The stone walls kept the heat in and the sound out. My wrists were raw from the chains, and I hadn’t seen real daylight since they dragged me through that van. My body was sore and my mouth tasted blood more than water, but I was still breathing. And that alone was enough to piss Elodie off.
She came in every now and then. Always in red. Always radiant. Always humming something off–key like her mind was dancing somewhere else. I used to flinch when I heard her heels.
Now I counted them.
Today she walked in slower, sipping champagne and dragging one of her favorite guards by the leash. I didn’t even look up. I knew she was here to gloat again, maybe order another round of bruises. Maybe tell me how she was queen of the ashes now.
But her phone rang.
I heard it.
Sharp ringtone. Something expensive. She looked at the screen and laughed.
Harvick.
That name didn’t even sting anymore. Not after everything. Not after he let her destroy everything I buried and everything I built after.
She ignored the call and looked at me instead. “Guess who’s calling?”
I stayed quiet. My lip was bleeding again. One of her guards had split it open two hours ago for
sport.
She walked closer and knelt beside me, holding the phone up just enough for me to see the
screen.
“He’s calling like a rabid dog,” she whispered. “Want me to answer? Say something to you favorite liar?”
I smiled through cracked teeth. “Tell him he’ll have to fuck your corpse before he gets to me.”
She laughed, clapped, then slapped me across the cheek so hard my vision blurred again.
“Still with that mouth,” she hissed. “You’ll be crawling by the time I’m done.”
The phone kept ringing. Over and over. Then she pressed a button and suddenly the room echoed with his voice. Loud. Unhinged. Raw.
“Where the fuck is she? You took her, didn’t you?”
His voice sent a chill down the room. Even the guards stilled.
‘You think I won’t kill for her again? You think I’m just gonna sit back and fucking watch you bury her again?!”
Elodie didn’t even blink. She took another sip of her drink and leaned closer to the speaker.
‘Too late,” she said, dragging the words slow. “I already broke her.”
She looked right at me as she said it. Waiting to see if I’d flinch. If I’d drop my eyes.
didn’t.
stared back, blood down my chin and steel in my throat.
‘You keep saying that,” I whispered. “But you can’t break what’s already risen.”
She raised an eyebrow.
I leaned forward as much as the chains would let me, and my voice stayed steady.
“You’re not breaking me, Elodie. You’re just sharpening me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re chained to a wall and bleeding in your underwear. You’re not a weapon. You’re trash I forgot to burn.”
I smirked through the pain.
“And yet here you are. Watching me. Obsessing. Hating. Jealous even when I’m bleeding.”
She stood, eyes wide. “I won, Danica.”
“You’re here,” I said, “trying to prove that.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it.
I kept going.
“You married the lie. I wore the scars. You faked a baby. I buried my brother. You drugged a mar
to bed. I survived every man who tried to chajn me. And now you think this place, these cuffs, these walls–will be what ends me?”
I laughed. It hurt. But I laughed anyway.
“Bitch,” I said. “I’ve died before. You’re just a pit stop.”
She didn’t speak. Her hands trembled slightly.
Then she turned the phone off and threw it across the room. It shattered near the door.
“Make her pay,” she said quietly. “No drugs this time. I want her awake.”
The guards moved toward me.
And I braced for it.
Not because I was afraid. But because I knew, even hell gets tired of waiting.
And I was almost ready to rise.
