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Liam sighed and fluidly rolled off of the stool before lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright. I can take a hint, cousin!”
He starts to head for the door, but not before throwing the final word in my direction. “You and your brutal ways.”
I wait until Liam’s car pulls away entirely before locking and arming the house again and heading back up to Ada.
Behind where she’s tied, there is a small table to go with the small metal chair she’s sitting on.
The sinking afternoon sun has removed all natural light from the room and the dim bulb casts long shadows around the space, making it seem smaller than it did before. A veritable prison cell instead of a proper bedroom. But, until I know where we stand and how easily she’s going to be manipulated, I can’t allow her any other comforts than this.
I don’t speak to her as I bring the food to the table and lay everything out for her. I pick her up, chair and all, and position her at the table in front of the plate.
“The door is locked, before you get any wise ideas.” I warn her plainly before undoing the ties on her wrists. She instantly brings her hands in front of her, massaging the raw skin as best as she can. She glares at me, pure defiance burning in her eyes. But she doesn’t move for the food.
She’s got to be hungry. She’s already been here a very long time.
I lean against the wall, watching her refuse to touch anything, including the bottle of water on the table.
“It’s not poisoned, you can eat it.” I wait, and she still doesn’t move. I pick up a broccoli and eat it to prove that I’m not trying to poison her.
Honestly, it's a little rude to imply that I would do such a thing. As a murderer by profession, poison is the least creative way that a person can be killed. “Eat, Ada.”
Those perfect blue eyes lift up to me, sparking with fire.
“Do you need me to force feed you? Or, were you never taught to feed yourself?” I ask with an arched eyebrow. I lean closer, keeping eye contact as I speak in a tone that I know is menacing. “Eat.”
Ada’s nose crinkles in irritation, but she knows better than to push me any further. Her resolve wavers and she finally grabs the fork, pushing at the food on the plate. I’m half expecting her to turn up her pert nose for not getting her some five course meal. Well, she’s just going to have to get over the fact that my personal five-star chef isn’t available today. I’m sorely tempted to say as much in as snarky of a tone as I can manage, but it will not help me get me any closer to my goals.
I’ve planned this out for far too long to let my emotions get the better of me now.
Ada eats like everything that touches her tongue is ash and dirt. Her nose wrinkles and she takes the smallest bites I’ve ever seen somebody make. Her hands are trembling. Though, if it’s disgust for the meal or fear of me, I can’t quite tell.
She manages to make a small dent in her meal, and I’m just about to call her out on being difficult when she turns and attempts to bolt out of her chair. The chair goes toppling with her, and she scrambles anyway for the bucket that I left here in the room for her. I quickly untie her ankles, ready to drag her right back into the chair but she starts heaving everything she ate right back up into that bucket.
It’s not an allergic reaction. It’s not her being dramatic. Ada heaves until there’s nothing left in her body. It’s not a cry for attention or any other nonsense tactic to be dramatic or attempt to have the upper hand. There was sweat along her forehead, the convulsions that wracked her when there was nothing left butstomach acid had to be incredibly painful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it in person before.
Out of reflex, I move forward and push her hair back and away from her face. The sounds of her retching echo in the small, desolate space, mingling with her muffled sobs. All I can do is rub soft circles into the small of her back and wait for it to pass. Whatever it is, her body flinches at my touch.
When she finally stops, she remains hunched over the bucket, gasping for air. Her body shakes and trembles with what I have to guess is exhaustion. I want so badly to ask her what that was all about. Morbid curiosity tinged with a hint of genuine concern for this woman that I realistically should not have any feelings for whatsoever.
Before I can ask, Ada finally summons the strength to move, and slaps my hands away from her. She glares at me, her eyes blazing with fury and humiliation.
“Are you happy now, you fuck?!” She spits, her voice hoarse from how raw her throat must be.
Something unfamiliar, guilt perhaps, flares in my gut as I fall back unceremoniously on my ass. This wasn’t how I imagined any of this going. Not in the slightest. I expected defiance, resistance, but not… this.
The sight of her so defeated and vulnerable stirs something uncomfortable inside me. Something that feels a hell of a lot likedoubt of my methods. For just a moment, only a fleeting second, I almost want to be sick right along with her.
CHAPTER SIX
Ada
This is the kind of room that they write horror movies about. It’s a nightmare. It smells and although the bedding and the mattress seem to be brand new, I don’t trust them. I’m scared to lie down. I’ve been caught unawares too many times today and I don’t want Kieran to walk in on me while I’m in bed. I don’t dare try to sleep.
Long shadows dance over the rough concrete walls, making the darkness feel like demons. My whole body aches and my throat feels raw and hurts. I have the blanket wrapped around my body as I stare blankly at the door that Kieran disappeared through… how long has it been now?
Am I still in New York? Manhattan? Where has he brought me? How long have I been missing for now?
He can’t seriously think that I’m going to marry him, does he?
