Atlas - Roberts Alyne - Страница 38
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I didn't know how long I had waited before I was gathered and forced to crawl again. Every time I stopped moving, a kick came to my ribs or back.
"You're not supposed to hurt me," I cried, pain radiating through my chest.
"Doesn't matter anymore," he answered. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he pulled my head back. "Speak again and I will cut your tongue out."
Something told me he meant it. His voice rang of true evil. A killer with no remorse or empathy. There was a chill that men like him gave me. It was sad that I had been around enough to know. By now, it was too late to protect myself. I was a statistic. One of the victims my father fought to protect and find justice for.
We reached a set of stairs and I was pulled to my feet by my hair. Every step felt like defeat. When I felt I had landed on level ground, I made a run for it. I gritted my teeth as I felt my hair ripping from my scalp. The guy yelled but I ducked and moved as quickly as I could. I fell, scraping my knees, but scrambled back up.
"Fucking bitch," the guy cursed behind me.
My chains stopped me, pulling me back so I fell on my ass. Pain shot up my spine and my head smacked the floor. I felt the man stepping over me, lingering and laughing at me.
"I really wish I could kill you for that," he said, spitting on me.
He didn't even bother getting me back up. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me the rest of the way. The floor scraped and cut my back and I screamed the short distance until he let me go.
"Just kill me," I hissed from the floor.
"I wish I could," he said. "But you have something far worse waiting for you."
He secured my chains and walked away, his steps echoing in my prison.
"Atlas should have killed you when he was supposed to."
The metal door clanked shut and my tears fell freely, soaking the blindfold. I listened as his steps faded away. When he was gone, I heard similar sounds to my own cries. I was surrounded by them. The sniffles and quietly prayers were whispered all around me. I realized I was not alone.
I sat up, feeling around and ripping the blindfold from my face. I couldn't see anything, but I heard them. I could feel the fear and sorrow everywhere, suffocating me. I crawled around, reaching out, hoping to find something or someone.
"Hello?" I called out.
"Shh," another voice hissed. "They will hear you."
"Who are you?" I whispered.
"I am no one," she answered. "Now shut up before you get us killed. Or worse."
I snapped my mouth shut. I could only imagine what could be worse than getting killed. I leaned my head back against the stone wall. I wished I was still at the lake house. I regretted ever doubting Atlas. Although I didn't think he had always intended to keep me safe, he would have never allowed this to happen to me.
I faded in and out of sleep, listening to the other cries for help and whimpers of fear. There was no light and no hope. My stomach hurt with hunger and my throat burned with thirst. I had no idea how much time had passed. In this darkness, I only wished for the end. Atlas was right. I once wanted to live. I fought for it and I would have killed for it. None of that would end up mattering in the end.
XXVIII
Atlas
A full day went by without sign of her. My frustration and anger grew with every passing hour. Stella was smart, but I wasn't sure if she was smart enough to hide from me forever. My anger and hate for her festered. The things I would do to her when I found her couldn't even be described.
Sal and Tony watched the apartment in San Francisco she thought she would move to, but she didn't go there. Her friend Liddy seemed to have vanished with news reports filling the airwaves looking for her. Amazing what a difference having a family makes. Someone was looking for her. No one, but me, looked for Stella.
After searching the remains of her home that burned to the ground, I walked into the lake house. I smelled like smoke and was covered in ash. No bodies were found inside. The official reports said the house was empty but I had to know for myself. I only trusted myself and a few other men to give me accurate information.
When I shut the front door behind me, I felt something was wrong. My instincts told me something was off and I wasn't alone. Grabbing my gun from my holster, I quietly stalked down the hall. The light in the living room was on, confirming my suspicion. I pulled my weapon close and disarmed the safety, ready for whatever waited in that room.
I stepped into the living room, every muscle tense and alert. Quickly scanning the room, I found two glasses of whiskey on the bar. Frost still coated the outside of the glass. As I stared in confusion and shock, I let my guard down. A crack sounded as pain split across my face starting at my nose. My vision went dark just long enough for my gun to be kicked from my hand.
I stumbled back but righted myself quickly. Opening my eyes, I saw something I never thought I would ever see again. My own gun pointed at my face, ready to fire. My vision was spotted from the break in my nose but I knew who held it.
"You sorry mother fucker," he growled. "You made me one fucking promise and you couldn't even keep it."
"Ace?" I whispered.
There he stood, well and very alive. Very angry. The vein in his neck was throbbing as his finger twitched on the trigger. His blue eyes, much like his sister's, were clouded over in a murderous rage.
"I thought you were dead," I offered lamely. I honestly didn't have a back-up plan for resurrections.
"Yes. More than we could say for Stella," he hissed.
"I didn't," I said, raising my hands in defense. "I didn't hurt her."
"No. You didn't save her."
I couldn't speak. I couldn't fight. My best friend and partner stood before me in the flesh. Someone I thought was dead and gone forever. I mourned his death. I fought for his revenge and honored him.
"She ran," I said, anger coming back to me when I remembered the girl I tried to save.
"Did she really?" Ace asked, coming closer with the gun. "You just can't possibly fathom that you failed, can you?"
My own anger started to rise. He made me think he was dead. He thrusted the burden of keeping his stubborn sister alive. Best friend or not, I was fucking livid.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Imagine my surprise," he started, lifting a glass to his lips and taking a sip. "I'm watching your dear old dad's place and I see a very familiar girl passing through."
My stomach sank.
"She has black, short hair but I would know her from miles away."
Silence hung over our heads while I tried to catch up. Stella was in my bedroom and then she was gone. This place was locked up, but I had let my guard down. All this time, I thought she had played me.
"You were supposed to protect her," Ace roared, coming at me with his fists again.
I let him hit me because I deserved it.
"I asked you to keep her alive, not fuck her and then let her end up in their hands you sick son of a bitch."
I swung back out of instinct and he fell off me. A smirk grew on his face as we stared at each other panting.
"She's in Miami?" I asked. My voice was hollow as I tried to gather my thoughts.
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