Page 78 of Chained

"So you are calling my sister a liar?" His tone is cold, sinister.

"He didn't touch me, Vincent, I swear it⁠—"

"Little dove, I saw it with my own eyes. I saw what he did to you, how he touched you. How his mouth found yours. You don't need to lie for a dead man." The certainty in Melina's voice almost makes me believe it, and for a second, I'm questioning what really happened in those cells until Jade's voice replays in my head.

Run. Her pinky laced around mine, a promise I couldn't keep.

No matter what.

"No. You're a liar." I meet her gaze, finding strength I didn't know I possessed.

Vincent turns to Melina with a scowl. "Is this true, Lina?"

Her hands dart out, grabbing his wrists. "When have I ever lied to you, brother?" Her words fall a little faster.

He sits for a moment, the silence weighing down on me. He doesn't remove his eyes from the glass in front of him. His fingers grip tighter.

"If he didn't touch you, Amora, that means you tried to run. You tried to leave me." His voice is quiet. He grips the glass tighter and smashes it down into the table before jumping up from his seat, his chest moving quicker. The chair falls behind him, but he doesn't say another word. He storms away, his hands in fists.

"Look what you did!" Melina screeches at me, her eyes fixed on my face. She moves quickly, sprinting to follow him, her heels clicking against the stone until they're both out of sight.

My heart hammers in my chest, which is moving at a rapid pace, my hands a sweaty mess.

"Welcome to the family, Amora," Jarrod says, his stutter now nowhere to be found. He takes a large glug of his drink before placing his glass down. I spot the guards stepping closer to the table, and I know my time outside is over. But honestly, I'm thankful. They take my arm, a little gentler than they had before, and escort me back through the manor until I'm back in my room.

I step out onto the balcony and let the tears I'd been holding back all morning flow freely.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ace

I know from the moment I spot the guard posted outside the basement door that this is a terrible fucking idea, but it doesn't stop my feet from moving quicker. I've barely slept; the thought of Amora on that ledge, feeling the same hopelessness I've felt for so long, sits heavy on my chest until it forces me out of my room, and now, walking to what could potentially be my own death.

"Ace." Davis nods—he's one of the newer guards Vincent recruited about a year ago. Apparently he owed a debt, and this was Vincent's way of seeing he repaid it: by working a contract that would never end, because they never do. His time will run out, but Vincent will find a new way to get him to stay, to force his loyalty. Whether it's expensive cars, a wad of cash, or a woman of his choosing, they all succumb to the same desires eventually.

"Alright, Davis," I say, hesitating at the door. I fumble with the wad of cash in my pocket, my ticket in and out of the cells without detection—or so I hope. That's the funny thing about this place, Vincent has his staff on a tight leash, but for the right price, any of them would plunge a knife deep into his back. That's how I've spent years being undetectable—paying the guards if I ever want to leave without a word, and, thankfully, the surveillance team happens to be my own brother, Jarrod, who would never breathe a word.

I pull the cash from my pocket, sliding it into Davis's hand. I don't have time for small talk; in and out. That's all I need.

"You never saw me," I whisper. He takes the cash and nods as he checks the hallways, ensuring no one is watching before pushing the door open with his foot. I step inside, the smell of damp and piss reeking through the air as I take a slow step down the stairs. I hear the girls talking, their words indistinct, but I can hear their soft whispers. Flashbacks of my own time down here force their way in—the memory of the chain wrapped around my throat, the sound of my own sobs as a child. I'd spent months here, watching as girls came and went without warning, Archie sitting on the other side of the metal bars. His voice taunting me, teaching me. Moulding me into what he wanted me to become.

As I finally reach the bottom step, everything inside of me is on edge. Turning the corner, the girls come into view. The little blonde from the van sits on her cot, legs crossed and hair filthy. Somehow she looks younger than before, and my stomach churns at the thought. The redhead stands beside the bars, eyes glaring.

I don't know what to say. Words evade me as I step closer. The redhead's bruising to her eyes is beginning to dull to a mouldy yellow, her nose still puffy from swelling.

"Enjoying the view?" she spits, words like acid.

I don't respond. How can I? I can't trust these girls not to spill that I've been down here or that the only reason I care that they're alive is so I can give the woman I need to avoid a little hope.

"Just checking you're still breathing." I keep my tone cool, collected. I should leave, turn around and go back up those stairs and get myself well away from this place. "Now that I know, I'll be leaving."

"Good, get your filthy eyes away from us," she jabs again, her words as cold as ice.

This was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. I nod, turning my back and taking a step back to the stairs, when a small voice breaks through the air and drives into my heart.

"Wait!" the blonde calls out, her voice small but mighty.

I turn, meeting her gaze as she rushes to the bars, her hands wrapped tightly around the metal. It takes everything inside me to stay and not to run up the stairs and create as much distance from her gaze as possible.