AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mateo approaches him, holding the rope.
The air is thick with tension; you could slice it with a knife — like the knife that’s still pressed against my throat.
"Let her go," Dixon says. "This is between you and me."
"But she’s involved now, and that’s your doing," my father replies smoothly. "You know I can’t have loose ends running around when we’re done here."
I see Dixon’s jaw clench as he weighs his options; he's outnumbered and outmaneuvered — any wrong move might be fatal for both of us.
Instead, he nods, extends his hands, and allows Mateo to bind him, and then he calmly sits in a chair while Mateo finishes tying him up. It’s a sight that makes me pause. After everything he’s been through to get to the truth, all the suffering, all the fighting, now that he’s face to face with the men responsible for all those years of torture, he’s so calm? Why?
The answer hits me just as quickly: because that’s how much he loves me. He’d give it all up and accept death peacefully if it meant there was even a chance to save me.
“I love you,” I mouth to him when his eyes find mine after Mateo finishes tying him up.
My father sees the silent exchange and his lips curl into a snarl.
"Don't get sentimental, it's pathetic," he sneers. But there's a flicker of unease in his eyes because Dixon's calm is unnerving, even to him. He runs the knife along my throat; there’s not enough pressure to cut me, but enough to make me imagine the sense of my skin parting beneath the blade. "You know how this goes down, right? You’re going to die, she’s going to die, and the only thing that’s up to debate is who gets to watch the other one die. You want to grovel for the right? Or do you want to let her watch you die?”
Dixon's eyes narrow ever so slightly, but he remains silent.
My father's grin fades.
"What? No begging for her life? No final plea? Fine, have it your way." With shocking speed, my father takes his knife and stabs it deep into the meat of Dixon’s shoulder. Blood sprays in thick gouts, and I scream, surging and struggling against the rope tying me to the chair. I feel something give in one knot, ever so slightly. I pull on it further and nothing gives, and I soon give up, slumping into my chair while the man I love bleeds in front of me, his eyes still on my father, the only betrayal of pain and short grunt and a flicker of emotion that briefly crosses his face.
“Looks like he’s decided,” Mateo says.
My father shoots him a look that quiets him. “I don’t like it. I don’t like his face, I don’t like his attitude, I don’t like that he can just fucking sit there and think that he’s going to skate through this. Hit her.”
Mateo batters me, a blow that knocks the chair over and sends me crashing face first into the floor. The knots give a little more, but I hardly feel it. My head ringing with more pain than I thought possible. Dixon yells, my father laughs, and Mateo picks me up off the ground.
“I think he wants to watch,” my father says. “Again.”
I fight the dizziness swirling in my head, concentrating on the ropes that now feel just a fraction looser. My father stalks around us like a predator circling his prey, reveling in the control he believes he has.
Dixon looks paler now, the blood seeping through his clothes and pooling onto the floor beneath him. His breathing is steady though, measured even through the pain. My father kneels in front of him, his face inches away from Dixon's, as if trying to draw out fear that simply isn't there.
"You think you're so tough," he taunts. "Let's see how tough you are when she screams for mercy. Sit there, watch, know that you’re the one who’s responsible for her suffering."
The blow seems to hit me out of nowhere, and my head rings with a deafening agony. The world goes dark, and when light comes again, I feel a fogginess that I know means I was just knocked unconscious. There’s a spare second for me to take a breath and to work my jaw to shake off the shock from Mateo’s blow before pain flares in my chest as he punches me in the midsection. I let out something between a gasp and a scream before I vomit from the intense pain.
Amidst the fog in my vision, I lock eyes with Dixon.
“Stay strong,” he mouths to me.
I try. But it’s hard when your childhood friend is beating the shit out of you.
Another blow makes my head snap back and blood fills my mouth. I don’t know how much more I can take. Even breathing seems a struggle for my malfunctioning body as Mateo beats me into nothingness.
Then there’s a ring.
Once, twice, enough that I know it’s not coming from inside my head.
It’s my father’s phone.
He makes no move to answer it, but the second it stops ringing, it starts again. Frowning, he checks it.
“It’s Delfino,” he mutters.
