My thoughts are bloated with everything Cezar did to Rose in front of me. How he commanded both her and Mathias to do his bidding.
I’m now nursing a warning in neon lights that I could wind up the same as Rose, silenced. I know I had it bad with William, but I never had to hurt another person on command. Who would I be now if I had? This man has the power of control, only using words among his people, and that is a very dangerous thing for me.
The burn of the cut is nothing compared to the knowledge I am in deep, deep shit with this crazy, extremely unpredictable man. I am used to a camera watching me day-in and day-out. I know how to live with one.
I move the pillow so I can spit out saliva and blood onto the bedding, the small bit I have covering my legs falling away. The blinking eye in the corner of my room will tell on me if it knows I can see the phone, so I must play the game and play it well.
I stay in the fetal position, pulling the pillow back to my chest, dismissing the phone’s existence. I lie here under the guise of sleep, while waiting it out until Mathias comes back to claim it.
And he will.
I fill my thoughts with knowing he must be sweating bricks because he is a stupid man for making such a blunder. A small win for me, although I’m too afraid of the consequences if I were to gloat in his face.
I hug the pillow a little tighter. It was so good to let somebody know I was still alive, even if it was Edge. They know I still exist.
I rewind the phone call from Edge in my mind. I’ve done exactly what he asked of me so my messages can’t be traced at first glance.
He said he has Jenny, my ragdoll. Miss Catherine must believe in him to hand over my precious doll, a possession she knows means a great deal to me. Jenny had seen me through a lot of hard times. She was the only friend I had as a little girl. I held her when things got too tough, when sleep was evading me, when nightmares enveloped me, when evil hurt me.
Jenny kept me from falling.
I need Jenny now.
Miss Catherine wouldn’t have given her to Edge if she hadn’t formed some kind of bond with him. I know Miss C. If she trusts Edge, then is it possible he meant what he said about coming for me and being sorry?
I dab at my eyes, removing the moisture still leaking out. I hate that I have been reduced to a teary mess. I am stronger than this.
Questions keep flipping through my mind as I huddle, waiting for my enemy to walk through the door. Is Edge truly sorry for what he did to me? How he played me? Boxer and Lincoln are too injured to come after me, and my heart bleeds knowing this, but Edge said they will survive. Why were they hurt? Was it because of me? Who hurt them? My kidnapping has to be linked to their troubles.
I badly want to hear Boxer’s British voice. He’s the closest thing I have to a father, and Lincoln is my best friend. I miss them so much. Had I gotten them almost killed? Is my very existence putting their lives in jeopardy?
Am I cursed, never to know happiness and peace?
Curling my body around the pillow, I try to calm my anxiety and fear for the people I love. The best thing I can do is try to get some rest before all hell breaks loose.
And it will.
I’m walking a narrow tightrope of hope. Even though I’ve wobbled about, I haven’t yet fallen off. I have to believe I’ll be rescued. It happens in the movies, against all odds, and this is like one epic never-ending movie filled with betrayal and violence playing out in my life, because this just doesn’t happen to other people.
Does it?
I lay in the painfully quiet room, my shoulder a dull reminder of what I have already been through. Only my frightened breath can be heard through the piercing silence, a constant form of torture ready to burst once my enemy arrives.
The minutes keep ticking by, turning into at least an hour. I’m beginning to think Cezar is keeping me isolated for the rest of the day. He told Rose to give me time to think—in other words, stew in my own pot of despair. She can’t be coming any time soon.
I want so badly to reach for the phone, convincing myself if only to read the time. Maybe Mathias hasn’t noticed his phone is missing. Have his duties kept him occupied?
Knowing I can talk to Edge again, it’s a strong temptation lying by my thigh, the only link to my world, a world I may never ever see again.
As time keeps ticking by, my hand is greedy to pick up the phone and hear his voice again. I want to ignore his betrayal, if only to have one last chance before I am cut off, maybe never to be reunited again with Miss Catherine, Boxer, and Lincoln.
My fingers twitch.
I make the decision.
I can’t help myself.
I tempt fate once more and carefully grope around until I clutch the phone. A small sound of comfort reveals itself inside the four confining stone walls as I tuck it by my face.
I know it’s wrong, and I could be badly punished if not killed but call me super crazy because after everything that has happened to me, I need the contact. Even if it is with a man I shouldn’t feel this pull to talk to. This temptation I’m feeling is a drug I need another hit of to feel calm, even if it may cause me to OD.
I hit the keys for Miss C’s number and wait. I just want to hear his voice. It rings twice and connects.
“Whisper?” My name comes out on a soft growl. I say nothing. “Baby, I want you to make a little cough now if it is you.” I try to cough, but it comes out filled with saliva and blood, and then I can’t stop coughing as it turns into retching. “Christ, what have they done to you?” He’s angry, but not at me. “Take deep, slow breaths, darlin’. Listen to mine if you can.”
I close my eyes and concentrate on doing as he says, matching my breathing with his. Any kindness, I am cloaking myself in to warm my beaten soul. This Edge is the man I met in the bar who talked to me like an equal.
“Fuck, darlin’, you shouldn’t be calling. Somebody will catch you.” He’s gruff and angry again. “Please,” he sounds desperate, “you have to disconnect for your own safety.”
I wipe the tears that are still leaking from my eyes, the traitors. “Edth—”
“You shouldn’t be talking. Your mouth....” He curses. “Your bullet wound.” Those three words are racked with guilt. He cares I’m hurt. I’m not imagining he’s sorry.
I know I should disconnect and put the phone back, but I can’t... not yet. I need this connection to keep me from losing it. My mind is fragile; everything keeps piling up, and the boxes are already full. There’s no self-storage space left for any more boxes of nightmares in my head.
I try again. I should text, but that takes time, and I don’t know how much more time I have. “Edth... I....” My voice is barely audible, and raspy from my coughing, his name a slobbering mess on my ruined tongue. I go to repeat myself. “Edth—”
“Fuck, baby,” Edge cuts me off, “you’re frightened and hurt, and I know you need this contact, even if it is with me, but I want you to stay as safe as you can, and this isn’t fucking safe. This is fucking suicide if you get caught.”
My fingers peeking out of my cast move nervously across the cut at my throat. It has stopped bleeding, a shallow gash left as a reminder of what will happen if I step out of line. I don’t think it needs stitches, but I couldn’t trust anybody to stitch me up here anyway.
“Edth... pleathe... I can’th do thith again.” My words are slow in my endeavor for him to understand me. I thought I could be brave, but this is becoming too much the longer I lie here. Twenty years of captivity was enough, but this... this is too much. Everything is catching up to me, how much I’ve endured.
“You can and you will.” He understands me, even though my sentence is all messed up. His words prop up my limp self-doubt. He’s determined for me to stay strong. “I’m coming for you, Whisper. Believe me when I say this. I have friends, and we are working on locating you. Do as you’re told. Don’t fight them, no matter how hard it gets, and it will get fucking hard.” He goes silent. I’m afraid I’ve lost the connection, because I can’t hear his breathing.
I stare at the screen, the seconds counting away... and then he’s back. “Stay alive for your family. You survived my father. Don’t forget that.” How much does he know? “Please just do as they say, because Joel is working on finding you.”
He knows Joel?
“I won’t let up until I find you, and Boxer won’t let you down... not like me.” He sounds ashamed of himself.
I am reminded of the family who loves me and won’t give up on me. They won’t forget me. Boxer gave me a place in society, and he broke the rules to give me a voice in this world. Before, I was just a whisper floating through time, an abused secret.
“I fucked you over.” His voice has dropped an octave. My face heats under the double meaning. “I could have kept you from all this, if I had known about my father. I didn’t keep you fucking safe. I hurt you and let those fuckers drive off with you in the trunk.”
He’d been shot. I mentally check myself and stop my conscience from making any more excuses for him. Nobody should just go around shooting people and then ask questions later.
Although this man has taken so much from me, it doesn’t halt the insecure words flying out before I can stop them. “Doth leathe me here.” I am so alone. I want to believe the same man who hurt me will help me.
I want to believe he is sorry.
“Fuck, Whisper, hear me when I say I may have tainted Dupré blood running through my veins, but I will be coming to save you and I’ll be bringing a small army with me.” His words are a fierce growl. “Shit, babe, you weren’t who I thought you were. You’re innocent and brave. I am sorry for my father’s sins against you, and I’m sorry for my fucked-up sins against you, too.” His voice is full of pain and regret. I want to believe him, even after he broke my trust.
I need to tell him about the girl. “Girl wath killed in hangar. Trying ethcape.” I cough and spit out blood.
“I know. I found her body,” he says quietly. He was at the hangar? “Her body has been buried and shown the proper respect. Her name was Santana. She was under the protection of the Lion’s Den Motorcycle Club. She went missing from their club over nine months ago.” I’ve seen seven seasons of Sons of Anarchy with Lincoln which taught me a lot of what a club is about. They are violent and dangerous.
He answers the silent river of questions flowing through my mind on a fast current. “I was there with Miss Catherine. She’s one tough old lady. She loves you and is fighting for you. We have tried any lead we can find. I’m now in Jackson, Mississippi, waiting for another lead. I’m only a few hours from Connard.”
I know this is my last desperate hope to tell him everything I forgot to tell him earlier. “The men wear mathk. Kane ith dangerouth. Enjoy hurting women. Mathiath ith Norwegian. Tattooed thymbol by hith temple. Thick beard. I tried... to... ethcape... cold... city. Kane broke... my writh.” I don’t know how much he can understand with my lispy talk, but from the sounds of rage and cursing coming down the line, I gather he understands enough.
“Masks? Fuck’s sake, who are these people?” he rumbles, as though he is only speaking to himself.
I keep talking, too scared I’ll forget something vital that could help him, even if I’m dead and he can save the other women. “Think I’m undergwounth.”
“Underground?”
“Yeth. Loth of thone. No windowth.”
“Lots of stone? No windows?”
“Yeth. Curved corridor. Rothe ith dam-ed.” I try and repeat the word again, “Dam-eeed.” My mouth hurts so much to talk, but I have to keep going.
“Damaged? Rose is damaged?”
“Yeth. Thurviveth in her head. Needth thaving thoo.” It is so hard to talk with my tongue a piece of hacked meat, and blood and saliva adding to my messed-up words, making me feel nauseous.
There is silence for several heartbeats, as though he is choosing his words carefully and keeping his anger in check. “Understand this. All our concentration is going into saving you. You can’t think about this Rose, because she is one broken bitch. I don’t fucking care if she is surviving in her head. She’s hooked up with this cocksucker, so she’s just as bad as him.”
“No!” I cry out a little too loudly. “Pleathe. Thave... Rothe. Promith. Other... girls... too.” My words have slowed down, begging for him to understand clearly. I’m desperate for him to help them too.
“Has she hurt you?” His anger is barely contained. I know it isn’t directed at me. “Yes or no?”
“Edth—” My sentence is cut short.
“Yes. Or. No. Whisper.” His words are clipped.
“Yeth.” I know how much weight that one word will hold for Edge.
“Who cut your tongue?”
I won’t waste anymore time. “Rothe. Cezar ordered her.” I can barely understand my own voice. “Prom... ith,” I can only whisper with a broken voice.
I wait several precious heartbeats for him to answer me. “I... promise.”
Thank you. My eyes close, relieved.
“Whisper?”
“Yeth?”
“Remember your favorite movie?”
“Yeth.”
“I promise you will get to watch it when we get you out of there.”
I want to smile a little at this thought, but I can’t trust it to be true. Tomorrow isn’t even a guarantee. Everything is unpredictable and to be feared. There is no safety for me anymore.
He takes a deep breath. “Just so you know, I mean what I say. I’m the enforcer for the Soulless Bastards Motorcycle Club. Trust that I have people who can help me locate you and get you out. Everybody is fighting hard to find you. If you don’t believe in me, then believe Boxer will find where you are.”
He is in a biker club? An enforcer?
I don’t know how I feel about knowing Edge is a biker.
“Hang up, baby, and save yourself. Do as I say.” He sounds like I’m stressing him out by staying on the line.
I can’t.
“Hang up, darlin’.” His words are softer, almost gentle, but he isn’t going to disconnect until I do. I want to listen to his breathing just a little longer, because it comforts me. His rich deep voice grounds me. I feel as though he’s listening to my breaths as well.
Edge was right in telling me to stay strong. I must tolerate what is thrown at me to buy myself time, to buy Edge time. No matter how hard that is going to be.
He interrupts my rambling mind. “Now, for the love of God, please hang up before you get caught. I can’t lose you.”
What?
I don’t understand why he said that, but I know I’m pushing the limit. I’ve gotten this far without being caught. I need not risk my life any further. I’m just about to disconnect, when a noise behind me makes me turn my head and look over my shoulder, a frightened noise escaping me.
“Whisper!” Edge’s stricken voice can be heard roaring inside my small room as the phone is snatched from my grasp. “Motherfucker!”
And then there is silence as I steel myself.
Because.
I. Am. A. Survivor.
No matter the cost.