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It's not the only reason I want her help, but it's the most plausible one I can come up with on the spot. I've already gone out on a limb here. Up in the office, I wasn't even planning on claiming Aelia. Asking her to be a mole for me only puts her in more danger. She could run straight back to Jenkins and rat me out. I have no idea what she's been through—what trauma she's harboring.
"What else?" she whispers.
"That's all."
She huffs, resting her chin on her knees. "For now."
If there are cameras in here, I need a plausible excuse for asking this of her. And if she does fuck me over, I'll merely look like I'm manipulating her for my own gain. It's a good fallback overall, but I hate having to hurt her in the process. She's clearly been through enough, and I'm about to pile more on top of her. Hopefully one day I can free her from this prison, but it won't be tonight.
"I won't lie. I'm not a good man, come to rescue you from your pathetic existence. I'll use you for my own gain, much like the rest of the men here. However, if you help me, I promise I won't break you as long as you give me what I want." The words burn as they leave me.
Fear floods her eyes and my heart twists. I won't take back the threat, though. As much as I want to protect her, I have to protect myself as well. A single tear rolls down her cheek, and she turns her face away. I wonder how many she's cried living in this place.
"Make the deal, Aelia."
She shakes her head, then buries her face into her arms.
"I can't," she says, her voice muffled.
"Yes, you can. You have the choice. If you choose not to, then we'll have to figure something else out."
Her head whips up and she sneers, "Choice? You're going to lecture me about choices as we sit in a room where you're supposed to be torturing me?"
Her eyes widen, and her breath rasps in her chest. The vein in her neck beats rapidly, and I wonder if I've pushed her too far. When we walk out of here, I need her to be able to play the part, not actually be broken.
"Torturing really isn't my style," I murmur, tucking my hands in my pockets.
She swallows hard, unraveling her arms from her legs. Sliding off the bed, she wraps her arms around her waist.
"I can't," she says.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm more afraid of them than I am of you."
Six
Aelia
My closet bedroom is suffocating in a way it's never been before. Obviously, I wouldn't stay here if I had a choice. I snort as I adjust my thin blanket, thinking back on my conversation with Dante a week ago. His asinine comments about making a deal as if I have any control over my life still float through my head. I haven't seen him since. Not that I'm lamenting the fact he hasn't come to claim me.
Dante's proclamation that I belonged to him didn't deter Jenkins in the slightest. The Guild leader grilled me at every possible opportunity. Throwing questions at me on what Dante did to me, to what his motivations for wanting access to the organization are. I expect tonight to be no different.
I wait until the last possible second before I open my cupboard door, peeking out through the thin gap. Grant is nowhere to be found, and I heave out a sigh of relief.
My heel catches on the lip of the door frame, and I swing my hand around wildly. Strong arms wrap around my waist, yanking me against a hard chest. I bite my tongue to keep the scream inside.
I stiffen and then go limp. There's no use in fighting. Most of the time, it merely gets them harder. I can't stop the trembling, though. For once, I'm hoping Grant will come around the corner and tell them I'm not ripe for the picking. He's an asshole and disgusting, but he keeps the sycophants at bay for the most part.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Dante's whispered voice flows over me, and my breathing evens out.
It isn't until he drags me backward toward my closet that I realize how different I felt for a moment. I can’t pinpoint why it was different, though. Figuring it out will eat away at me for days.
He told me—warned me—that he'd figure out another way if I chose not to take his ridiculous deal. And now he's cashing in on that promise. There's little I can do since Jenkins essentially signed my body over to him.
Dante's lips brush the shell of my ear, and I shudder. "Are there cameras in your room? Ways for them to listen to us?"
I shake my head, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth and biting down hard. It stings, but it's better than the alternative. Maybe he'll keep his mouth away from mine while he breaks me. I searched for them after last week and didn’t find any. I should have lied.
