"You know I can't let you go, right?" The man asked, voice gentler than I was expecting it to be. I looked up and he was staring right at me, eyes uncharacteristically kind.
I nod slowly, whispering, "Go ahead."
~~~
Ava Williams is just trying to l...
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Pavlov made good on his promise. He alternated between his fists and the knife, taking pleasure in every ounce of pain he caused. Cuts and bruises littered my body. My dress was torn. Pavlov had split my dress further up the side, the tear now resting precariously at my hip. I could feel blood dripping onto my collarbone from a cut on my face. That one had been the worst, and I could tell without looking that it was deep. Besides the one cut, Pavlov had stayed away from my face, something about leaving me recognizable. I had stopped paying attention after that. It hurt to move, to breathe. It even hurt to think. So I tried not to think of anything.
Pavlov left with a promise of a grand finale. I could only guess at what that meant. I twisted my wrists in their binds, trying to loosen them, but I only succeeded in causing myself more pain as little droplets of blood pooled beneath the plastic zip ties. Defeated, I hung my head, letting it drop against my chest. My ragged breathing was the only source of sound in the otherwise quiet room.
Footsteps echoed outside of my prison cell and dread clenched in my chest. Some part of me hoped that I would be rescued before it all ended. The other part just wanted it to end. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for my tormentor to step through the door. If I was going to die, I didn't want to watch Pavlov do it. The handle rattled briefly before turning and the door opened silently. When nothing happened, I peered up through my eyelashes and froze.
He was still dressed in his suit from the party, except his jacket was gone, replaced by a bulletproof vest over his wrinkled, white dress shirt. His hair was ruffled, and I was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to straighten it out with my fingers. There were bags under his eyes as if he hasn't slept in days, even though it has only been a few hours. There was a murderous look on his face when he sees me.
"Jaime." I breathed, the word catching on the roughness of my throat. Tears spilled down my already tear-stained face. Relief washed through me and I sagged against the chair, suddenly exhausted and tears spilled from my eyes. Jaime dropped to his knees in front of me. His hands hovered over me, not touching, but goosebumps erupt on my skin anyway. Finally, his thumbs brushed against my cheeks and wiped away my tears.
A small knife appeared in his hand, and I flinched at the sight. Anger and concern flashed across Jaime's face as he carefully cut through the zip ties.
"Can you stand?" His voice betrayed nothing, cool and even. I nodded slightly, even though the thought of standing hurt. Jaime helped lift me out of the chair, wincing as I stood. I wobbled in my heels, almost twisting my ankle. Leaning down, I unclasped the straps and dropped the shoes on the ground. Once I was steady on my feet, I threw my body against Jaime, catching him off guard. My body screamed in protest, and I grind my teeth together, but it didn't stop the bone crushing hug I gave Jaime. His arms wrapped around my body, pressing lightly against my back.
"I'm so sorry, Ava." He murmured into my hair.
More footsteps in the hall, and I froze at the sound. I almost collapsed in relief when I saw Cole and Izaha standing in the doorway along with a half dozen other men, dressed in their own vests.
"The building's clear, but we should get going." Cole stated.
"What do you mean 'the building's clear'?" Jaime growled as we moved out into the hallway. I grasped Jaime's hand in mine as if it were my lifeline. Which it was.
