CHAPTER 16
“He must bleed for your salvation, Ivy. How does that make you feel?”
Ivy’s body is slowly breaking down. Her mental state slipping into a helpless plain where nightmares dominate the subconscious. At this moment, I can see the imaginary cracks form and extend.
Seeing Robert die will haunt her.
Break her.
Might break us.
Cupping her cheeks with my hands, I tip her face up and wipe the tears rolling down with my thumb. “Don’t leave me. Focus on me. On my touch.” I lay my forehead against hers and breathe her in, try and give her the fortitude to play this sick and twisted game.
To fight alongside me.
No matter how much I hate him, I’ll do whatever I have to—set my ego aside—to help her save him. If there is a way to spare his life.
There won’t be one.
Ignoring the truth, I kiss the tip of her nose and wait. For a reaction. For anything that signals her faith that we will make it through this.
“I asked you a question, Ivy. How does that make you feel?”
“It hurts,” she whispers, but the nun hears and nods her head in acceptance.
“Pain cleanses the soul.” Agnes slips a hand beneath the still covered tray and pulls something out. It’s not a knife, no gleam from the metal and the item is pliable. Her fingers smooth over it.
She’s beside Robert with her mask-covered face tilted in his direction. As if she’s admiring—
“. . . hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done.”
“Oh God, Noah. She’s—”
“Praying for him,” I finish for her and pull her in closer, shielding her from the horror of what this psychotic woman will do to him.
The moment she sobs into my chest, the familiar crackle from our captor’s microphone carries through the room. “You are offending my guest, pets. Turn to face them or I will have my guards force you to watch. Bring Ivy into the room, gift her a front row seat to her lover’s demise.”
“Please don’t let them take me in there. I can’t,” Ivy cries out, her fingernails digging into my chest. Breaking the skin. That slight twinge of pain is welcome, helps me center and pull myself together for her.
Skimming my lips over her skin, I whisper my plea. “From now on we do as we are told, Ivy. We have to or we won’t survive this.” She nods but makes no move to turn around and face Robert. Her fear is palpable. “Turn around, love.”
It doesn’t help one bloody bit that the drugs they have us on are fucking with our emotions. The highs are brutal. The sudden anguish this moment brings is magnified tenfold.
“Okay.” Slowly, while choking on shuddering sobs, she faces Agnes once more. Ivy bites her lip. Her eyes are frantic and scared, but she remains facing the now visible room.
Moving behind my girl, I take my place and support her short frame. Let her body lean on mine. “I got you. No matter what happens, and how much it hurts, I’ll be here to do whatever you need. And I promise, baby, the day we get out I’ll avenge us both.”
“Make them bleed,” she whispers back and I nod into the crown of her head. If our captors heard us, they make no move to acknowledge it. Instead, Agnes bends down to Robert’s ear and whispers something to him.
His thrashing ceases and then his eyes land on us. Hollow. Almost empty.
They are those of a man who’s lost it all and knows it.
“Today should be a happy day, dear Ivy. You will be reborn and untarnished by the sins of the flesh. I am bestowing upon you the gift of my forgiveness.” With swift agility, the nun drops the scalpel onto Robert’s chest, the sharp edge digging into below his belly button. Immediately, blood spurts to the surface; a small stream pools and then slides over his side. It’s in that move that I realize just what she’s been holding in her other hand.
Rosary beads. All white and shiny.
The sole difference between these, and the ones you purchase at a store is the fact that it’s open—broken in the middle with the two pieces of the necklace extending at the half.
I’ve been so focused on the item in her hand that I fail to notice the movement of the gurney until Ivy gasps.
Robert is tilted, strapped to the bed, but his body is angled toward us. Just like Anne had been while strapped to that cross. His naked form is on display while the woman in the white mask picks up a stapler from the tray.
Not just any kind either. This is the kind used at construction sites. Heavy duty.
Her white-gloved hand traces the area across his lips and the gag; tenderly soothes him. “I’ll make it all better.”
“Nnnnn,” Robert yells around the ball. But it’s too late and on his next inhale she staples one end of the rosary to his chest, right at the center. His back arches, as if trying like hell to pull away and I wrap myself protectively around Ivy.
My girl is stiff in my arms. Muscles coiled tight while she watches the sadistic cow staple the other end just above his groin.
Agnes takes a step back and tilts her head to the side admiring her work.
Suddenly she claps her hands as if the sight before her pleases her and then turns to stand beside Robert. “We may proceed.” She tells the room all the while tracing the tiny white balls of the rosary beads.
“Thank my beautiful Agnes, pets.”
Is she kidding me with this shite? No. Of course not. This sadistic bunch get off on our agony.
A sharp pinch to my arm brings me to attention. Ivy is silently imploring with me to not fall back on my own words.
That we do whatever it takes to survive.
Another pinch and I nod against the top of her head all the while spelling the words I’m here and together over her midsection.
“Thank you, Agnes,” we reply in unison and I can almost taste their gloating in the air. The bitterness of giving them this short win.
“You make me proud.” Our favorite lullaby follows her declarations and my eyes scan the room. Afraid for what is to come. Where the fuck they’ll pop out from next. “And because I’m feeling generous, I’ll offer you the chance to save his life.”
“Anything!” Ivy pulls away and stops in front of the main speaker. “I’ll do anything to save him.”
“Love, I—” A muffled scream rents the room, cutting me off. Robert is in agony—trying to bite through the ball gag while the nun cuts little slots down his abdomen. Tiny holes the size of each bead of her Rosary.
It’s once white perfection now marred by rich red.
His blood.
“Please stop her!” Ivy pushes away from the speaker and marches to the glass wall. “Oh my God. No, no . . . no!” Her tiny fists bang against the unbreakable surface. Punches, kicks—her screams are borderline psychotic.
“You promised her a bargain for our cooperation!” I shout, running to stop Ivy before she hurts herself.
“I did.” Agnes stops at our captor’s agreeance and stands beside a whimpering Robert. Saliva pools around his gag and drips down to his neck.
Our nun shakes her head and then clasps her hands together in the universal sign of prayer. As if praying for another chance to unleash torment upon him.
“Thank you,” I say, embracing a crying Ivy. Her hands are bruised, but luckily no skin is broken around the knuckles. Kissing each one, I walk us back toward the bed and the one bottle of water that’s un-open. Untwisting the cap, I hold it out to her. “Drink.”
“No thank you. My stomach’s a mess.” And I get that. I do. But in the circumstances we are in now the last thing I need is for her to become dehydrated.
“Ivy, drink this.” With a glare she takes the bottle from my hand and takes a few deep pulls. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just a few more sips.”
“No more,” she begs while pushing the bottle back toward me.
“So sweet.” Our captor sighs and the murmur of agreement follows. “Almost a shame to hurt such beauty.”
I exhale slowly in an effort to remain calm. “We’re complying. No need for more threats.”
“Once again you are wrong, Noah. Had you followed orders from the beginning, Anne and Robert might’ve been spared. They could’ve bonded over the loss of each of you and fell in love over time. Beauty can be born from within agonizing grief.”
“We can still spare his life?” Ivy’s voice is timid. Fragile.
“We can . . . ”
Robert cries out again and my eyes flash to his. Agnes is picking at his wounds with the tip of her white gloves, trying to push a bead inside one of the holes she has marked.
Clenching her hands, Ivy tries to control her shaking. “What do you need from us? We’ll do anything.”
“Alright. Then let’s play a game.”
“What kind? I ask, while placing a hand over Ivy’s mouth to shut her up. I get it. She wants to save him, but this woman is macabre.
Dangerous.
Looking for a way—to be given a reason to hurt her. Because through my girl’s pain, she kills a tiny piece of me. Of the humanity I’m trying so hard to hold onto.
The savage instincts—animal-like ways of thinking—are trying to break free. My mind is rapidly processing the outcome to complying without hesitation.
Robert will bleed to save Ivy, but will she be forced to be my salvation? Even if she hates me later, I have to protect her. No other choice.
“How about my version of ‘I say’?”
Shite, it’s all about commands again. Control over our actions. “Under one condition.”
“Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t try, Noah,” the voice tsks, but doesn’t say anything else.
“We follow this sick game, but he lives.”
“Agreed—”
“And no one else takes his place.” My love, who’s been rigid in my hold, takes a steadying breath at my demands. Can almost taste the gratitude coming off her in waves.
I don’t hold any leverage over the woman behind the voice, but I’ve paid attention to her quirks. A good show gratifies her audience. Keeps them happy, which in turn, makes shite easier for us.
Even if the reward lasts a few hours, it’s enough to try and find a way out.
Ivy relaxes further as I release her mouth. “Thank you.”
“Trust in me.”
“Clearly, your whore agrees, so let’s begin shall we?”
Fucking cunt. Her dislike of Ivy sits heavy on my mind. It rings with a tinge of jealousy.
“Let’s get this over with,” I answer for the two of us.
“So eager.” Our lullaby ceases to play and in it’s place a more sensual beat pulses through the room. Heavy bass. Hypnotic. Once again my skin prickles and a lick of fear races up my spine.
“Time to play, my precious little toys. And I say . . . Ivy, tie him to that bed.”