Page 47 of Tainted Blood
There’s no lark down here. There’s not even a window… There’s just this never-ending night.
Tick.
Tock.
Pressing my spine into the stone wall, I tug listlessly at the restraints that bind my hands above me. My mind is a TV screen, flickering in and out of reality. Half here, half reliving that stupid race with Sam. He doesn’t call me a cheat anymore, though. He calls me a murderer, and I smile in agreement.
Tick.
Tock.
I run my tongue along my lips. They’re cracked and bleeding. I’ve had no food or water since I’ve been down here. If I don’t get any soon, dehydration will be beating out infection for death’s dark crown.
Tick.
Tock.
I swear I hear footsteps in the distance, but I’m starting to doubt my own thoughts. Next, the locks are turning. Heavy bolts are drawn back. A beat later, bright light is flooding into the cellar, and I’m flinching away like it’s corrosive.
“Look at me, puttana.”
I keep my face turned until rough fingers are digging into my chin and forcing the issue. Reluctantly, I blink away the blackness to find the face of evil himself standing right in front of me.
Lorenzo Zaccaria.
Coldly handsome.
Chillingly cruel.
“You don’t play by my rules, Señora Carrera,” he chides—his deep drawling indolence churning my stomach into bile. “A lamb isn’t supposed to attack the wolf.”
“Good girls aren’t supposed to have shadows, either,” I croak, wincing as he fists my hair and wrenches my head back to an agonizing angle.
“My dogs were hungry and restless,” he murmurs, his dead eyes flickering over my face. “I sent them a Mexican meal…”
Lola.
“Please—”
“Now you beg for my mercy?” He sounds amused. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep her scarred, but alive… Same as you. You’re much too valuable to waste so wantonly. The next time you face Il Labirinto though, you’ll be doing it in chains.”
“W-what is this place?” I whisper, forcing myself back from the beach. Forcing myself back to this cellar. Never stop counting. Never stop seeking a way out. “Men like you crave power, not money.”
Tick.
Tock.
“Payback.” He lets go of my hair, and my head flops forward. I’m too weak to hold it steady anymore. Too weak for pride. I don’t even care that I’m naked. “Monroe Spader wasn’t the only one wronged by your father, señora. My father and grandfather both suffered miserably in cages because of him.”
Hysterical laughter bubbles up inside me. “Is that supposed to be ironic?”
This time, I feel his hand wrapping around my throat. A beat later, I’m being slammed up against the stone wall.
“Manners maketh the whore, Señora Carrera,” he snarls. “Punishment is always bestowed on those who stray from that particular path of righteousness.”
“Funny… That’s the same thing Spader said, right before I turned your green maze into a bloodbath, Lorenzo Zaccaria.”
He chuckles darkly. “So, you know who I am. You have an admirable spirit for a dying woman.”