Aveline

Chapter Thirty-Three

I'm sitting in a cell. Or what I suppose is a cell since it has bars and everything is concrete.

My aunt threw me in here as soon as we arrived at her place. Or wherever she brought me.

"It was always a pleasure, Kee," I shout sarcastically. I also purposely leave out the rest of her name. Keelie Gold.

I should have always known something was wrong with her. She never liked my mother. And my mother was very likable.

I think she shares the same shitty gene with my father.

I take a seat on the ground with my back against the far wall. I don't know what I'm waiting for to happen but I have a feeling it's going to be at least a few hours.

Now that I'm thinking about it, I did remember a large fight that broke out between them. Right before I never saw Kee again.

She just. . .vanished.

And I was never able to question my father about it either.

• • •

"Knock knock, Aveline." A muscular man comes waltzing into the room. He stops right outside of my cell. I bring my gaze to his and give him a pinched smile.

"Well hello. Are you here to hurt me?" I ask, angling my head to the side.

He chuckles and opens the door, stepping inside and shutting it. "Something like that."

"Get up," he orders me.

I stand, stretching my back. He stalks forward and grips my upper arm tightly, dragging me out of the cell and towards the stairs.

"Torture? Manipulation? Straight up killing me? God—you know the possibilities are just endless," I talk to myself, letting the large man lead me down a hall.

He stays silent and steps into a room.

"Oh, delightful," I say sarcastically as I spot the chair and rope.

"Not the sharp stuff. The rope," I tell him. "I just really hate rope burn."

He rolls his eyes, annoyance heavy on his facial features.

"Wrinkles don't look good on you," I inform him.

He shoves me towards the chair forcefully. I fall to the ground right before it and let out a laugh.

"Come on—I know how these things go," I say.

I stand up straight and lift my chin.

"Get in the fucking chair," he threatens me.

"Or what?" I challenge, crossing my arms across my chest.

He smiles, stalking forward and moving to grab me again. I don't know why he's moving so slow and acting so confident when I just kick him in the dick.

He doubles down to grip it and I slam my knee up and into his nose. The crack resonates through the room along with his shout.

"Get in the fucking chair," I mock him, stepping around him and towards the door.

I open it and immediately get hit in the face by someone. Another man.

Large man from behind me grabs my arms and drags me backwards while the one in front of me keeps an eye on me.

I buck and kick—throwing my elbow back. It hits his face, making him drop my arms. I fall for a split second before I'm on my feet again.

And then everything goes dark.

• • •

I put up a fight.

And for a moment it felt as if it was going somewhere. But here I am—in the chair, tied down with rope on my ankles and wrists.

I don't know what knocked me out but I must have been out for a while. The room is pitch black so I can't tell if anyone else is in here with me.

My neck hurts from hanging at an awkward angle.

Lights flicker on—the door opens as well. My aunt walks in casually, a smile planted on her face.

"He won't be coming for me," I tell her instantly. "I'm sure of it."

She shakes her head with a smile. "Honey—we have tabs on him. He's already searching for you. And lucky for him, we are leaving breadcrumbs."

I grit my teeth together and glare at her.

"I think you underestimate him," I tell her.

She shrugs and holds her hand out. One of the men hand her a knife.

I lick my dry lips and prepare myself for the pain that's going to come. She advances and crouches down to be level with my seated frame.

"You don't even know the half of it," she spits and slices my cheek. I bite my lip to keep from whimpering as I feel the blood drip down my face.

It stings as she steps back, throbbing slightly.

"Really?" I grit out. "Then why don't you explain."

She laughs humorlessly and points the knife at me. "You would love that wouldn't you?"

"Who wouldn't love an explanation when they are clearly confused?" I say sarcastically and roll my eyes.

She slaps me across the face—across the cheek that was cut. My head whips to the side from the impact. But I don't give her the satisfaction of releasing any sound except a small gasp.

I glare at her heavily, facing her again.

"You always had quite a mouth on you," she says, handing the knife back to one of her men.

"A night should serve you well down here," she spits, leaving the room.

The muscular man from before is last to leave—casting a sick smile my way. I wish I could do something other than glare at their backs as they walk away.

I'm useless in this chair.

Helpless.

Jesus—I have to get out of here. I have to leave before Leo walks into whatever trap she has laid out for him.

I can't allow him to get hurt because of me.

I can't allow anybody else to get hurt because of me.