Page 22

Story: Debt of My Soul

Chapter 22

Fleur

S piral coils dig into my back. The impressions they leave are barely inhibited by the thin blanket I laid over them.

I lay there staring at the ceiling after they returned me to the cell several hours ago, considering the information Darrin shared.

Images of Adam pressed against the wall at Liam’s hand flicker behind my closed eyelids. His anger was palpable that day, and now I comprehend why. I’d be furious if I had to work off someone else’s debt for six years while they were out buying new trucks and still gambling their money away.

Is that what he was doing with all the money I paid him?

Adam made it clear from the beginning he was struggling financially. In what world is he going to come up with the new amount he owes? And for me—I’m not so sure.

A warm tear drips from the corner of my eye and slides down my temple into the arm tucked behind my head. I’m so stupid. Are all men hiding dark parts of themselves? Using me for their own personal agenda until something better comes along. Perhaps it’s just me. I’m gullible.

I snort and worry with the rubber bands at my wrist.

The echo of the hallway’s door rattles the iron bars keeping me locked away, and footsteps sound down the hall—the stride of whoever it is long and heavy.

I scramble up, pressing my back into the wall where the cot meets cement. A weak hiss escapes my mouth as a broken spring scrapes my back.

Liam’s towering figure steps into view. His hair is pulled back, and his eyes dart to the cot, then to the five-gallon bucket they sent me back here with. It’s the only place I have to relieve myself and I’ve done so, despite having no food or water. Because there’s no lid, the smell wafts through the cell and he wrinkles his nose.

Heat floods my cheeks. Like I had a choice , I want to yell at him. Instead, I drop my gaze to a cup in his hand.

He squats down into a crouch. Using one hand to steady himself, he grips a bar, and despite being half his height, he still demands presence and space.

The grating of metal on the concrete floor snaps my attention from his impressive body to where he pushes a metal cup into the cell.

My eyes flick to his and I catch him watching me. He gestures with his chin to the cup on the floor. “Water.”

Before the word is even fully out of his mouth, I fly off the bed, drop to the floor on my knees, and snatch the drink off the floor. My head pounds and the dryness of my mouth I’ve managed to avoid dwelling on, rushes back at me. I don’t care how half-human I look. I gulp the water down. It’s cold and refreshing. The water works its way down my raw throat, quenching my thirst and settling into my empty stomach.

All too soon, it’s gone. And I set the cup down on the exact ring of condensation where it was placed before.

He’s studying me, still crouched low, and I suddenly realize how close we are. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and I shuffle back, my movement pulling him out of his thoughts, and he stands.

I open my mouth to say something but snap it shut. What do I say? Thank you? Absolutely not. I don’t care how loyal of a brother he is. It’s clear he now enjoys his position in Darrin’s world. It’s his actions now, not what he did four years ago.

Liam turns, but I catch his gaze flick to the upper corner of the hallway, opposite my cell, before his back is to me and he strides away.

When the door closes, I make my way to the bars, using them to pull myself up. Squinting, I make out a small red dot. It’s blinking. I release the bars, backing up until I run into the wall.

A camera.

Was he trying to point it out to me? Or did he instinctively look at it?

Moving back to the cot, I lie down, testing my tongue in my mouth. That wasn’t nearly enough water. Feels like I’m chewing on glass with how parched I am.

I turn, making sure my back is to the camera, needing to block out whoever is lurking behind the lens.

I shiver. What the hell am I going to do now?

A door slams and I bolt awake. Zero light filters down here and the hours are beginning to blur together. I’d fallen asleep ticking through mental checkboxes, unsure what my next steps would be.

Even if I somehow managed to escape this cell, I have no idea where I am. Regardless of that, Ruin is crawling with Darrin’s men. Mr. and Mrs. Northgate are probably the only ones I could flee to. I’m sure River would help me, but I know her brother is involved and she might not want to risk pushback.

Footsteps once again sound in the hallway. This time they’re hurried and I clamber to sitting. The man named Blitz comes into view. His lofty body is more monstrous in the weak light.

My eyes flit to the camera, noticing the red light is no longer on, and my stomach roils. I swallow, catching each movement, each twitch or lift in his face as he stares at me. Holding my gaze, he pushes a key into the iron door, and when I hear the click, bile rises in my throat.

The door swings open and I stomp down a whimper as I stand, keeping my chin high. A repulsive grin stretches across his mouth, and my eyes narrow on a black piece of food between his teeth.

Allowing the door to screech shut, it slams, the noise causing me to jump despite it being anticipated. He steps toward me, palming himself.

“D says to leave ya alone until Adam pays up, but the boss has left, and I’d like to get my fill.” He snickers, a cruel smile falling in time with his eyes as they morph to undress me.

“Where’s Liam?” I ask, backing into the corner of the cell, utterly helpless.

“Busy,” he spits.

My eyes dart back and forth between the camera and the door, willing the light to turn on again.

“W-where is your boss?” Distract him, Fleur. Think, think!

He snorts. “Had to leave town to meet with the Cartel leader. Guess who’s in charge?” He moves to me, grimy hands reaching for my already ripped shirt. His hand yanks the fabric down and a sharp tearing noise echoes off the walls.

My shirt falls away, exposing my nude lace bra underneath. His eyes drop down, combing over my body, and when he drags a finger across my chest, I smack his hand away.

He retaliates, grabbing my wrist and smashing it against the wall. I scream, as he takes his other hand and helps himself to a handful, and I reach to smack his other hand away. He holds it down along his thigh and rubs my fisted hand there, moaning into my ear.

Too much cologne invades my nose as he licks my cheek and I jerk.

“Please don’t.”

I buck and twist to get free. It’s no use. The weight of this overgrown, dreadful man pins me in place.

“Blitz.”

My eyes pop open, following the voice and releasing a sigh of relief when it’s Liam. I’m not sure why.

“Back off, Liam. Get the hell out,” Blitz says, bringing my downed wrist to the other trapped beneath his palm above my head. He grips tight, using his now free hand to fumble with the button on my jeans. I buck again and Blitz hisses. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you.”

I growl, almost going feral with terror and rage at this point. The clinking of another key opening the iron bars barely registers in my attempt to throw Blitz away from where he has secured me to the wall. Glancing over, Liam comes in, holding my eyes, but I flinch when I see his cold stare.

“Blitz. Darrin said hands off,” Liam says again.

“I’m in charge right now,” Blitz responds as he shoves a hand over my stomach.

“No,” I whimper.

Liam halts Blitz’s hand, holding fast, while Blitz tries to yank away.

“Get off. Just because you can’t have her doesn’t mean you need to hinder my fun.”

They scuffle, Liam pulling back on Blitz until the pressure from where he’s pressed his body into mine abates, and I can finally suck in a deep breath of stale air.

“Easy, man,” Liam says calmly. He doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes trained on Blitz and laughs while patting him on the shoulder. “Trust me. My brother’s sloppy seconds aren’t my thing. I don’t want D pissed off, is all.”

His comment washes over me, and I ignore the sting his words cause. Sloppy seconds? Whatever. He can call me the worst names on the planet if it means this beast of a man stays the hell away from me.

“Darrin isn’t going to care.” Blitz spits on the floor near Liam’s boot. “I don’t appreciate you always interruptin’. She’ll be dead when Adam doesn’t pay up anyway.”

I freeze, my eyes darting down to my bare feet. Dead? I thought Liam covered Adam’s debts.

Blitz huffs past Liam, deliberately slamming his shoulder into him as he barrels out of the cell and into the hallway. The door slams with a thud.

My gaze moves to Liam, and I find him already staring at me. His jaw clenches as he takes in my tattered appearance. I wrap my arms around my uncovered torso, the lace bra allowing the chill of the damp room to prickle goose bumps along my arms.

Liam’s face is stone. I can’t read him at all, and I study his eyes, which seem to be the only thing I can look at right now.

“Dead?” I rasp out, unable to hold his eyes any longer. I move to the cot to pick up the puny blanket I was given and drop it in front of me to cover myself. He follows each movement, his chin lifting to meet my inquiring eyes. “I-I thought Darrin said your work for him paid Adam’s debt.”

Liam grunts and spreads his legs wide, arms crossing in front of him again. He likes this position, I’ve noticed. Oftentimes, people have tells when they’re uncomfortable. This might be his. The fists Liam’s hands are clenched into have a strange black soot on them, and it draws my attention until he answers me.

“Six years is what Darrin required for Adam’s first debt. He’s since acquired more.”

I blink. More? Adam went back to Darrin and dug himself into another debt hole even after his own brother took on the debt? That’s …

I’m still working through the thoughts in my mind when Liam strides over to leave the cell. I nudge off the back wall, reaching out to grab his arm. He turns, forcefully knocking me back while his searing gaze towers over me. Vulnerable, I flinch.

“I-I … thank you,” I say. When his brows knit together in confusion, I add, “For stopping him. Thank you.” I sniffle those last words, my eyes welling with tears as the trauma of what almost happened to me in this disgusting cell fully takes root.

“Don’t get used to it,” Liam grunts. With those callous words hanging in the air between us, he locks me back in my cell and leaves.

I spend the next several hours wrapped in my dirty cell blanket and crying into my pillow. I’m uncomfortable without a shirt, and with Blitz’s looming “dead” words echoing in my head, I can’t sleep. Muffling each of my cries and screams into my pillow, I try to stay strong. Try to pull myself together enough to think of a plan.

Help from Liam would be ideal. He always seemed nicer when we interacted outside of this place. You aren’t outside anymore, Fleur. You’re collateral. I reprimand myself for thinking Liam was anything different.

At some point, I fall asleep, waking the next morning to another creaking sound. Panic surges and I listen for footsteps coming down the hallway, but there are none.

Whoever it was must’ve been leaving. Thirsty and hoping for water, I roll off the cot to hunt for the stainless-steel cup I’ve been given a few times. I practically groan with appreciation when I find it sitting inside the cell bars filled to the brim.

Reaching for it, I pause on a folded shirt next to it. The soft cotton fabric slides through my hands as I pinch a portion, rubbing it between my fingers.

I grab for it, spreading the V-neck shirt in front of me. The gray shirt is an extra-large, and I bring a hand to my belly, relieved to have something to wear again, even if it’ll hang down past my knees.

Dropping the blanket I’ve cocooned myself in, I pull the shirt over my head. Cedar and charcoal envelop me, and I purposely pull the corner of the V up to my nose, inhaling the scent. It’s warm and clean—the only two things that matter to me right now. The intoxicating scent is a happy accident.

Faster than the last time, I down the water in two gulps and close my eyes, relishing it. The anxiety of whether I should be rationing it blooms in my gut. What if I don’t get more until tomorrow? I downed the whole thing. Would it have been better to take small sips throughout the day?

I tell myself the next cup to show up in my cell will be different.

As the day moves on, I determine I can, in fact, tell when night falls. Despite being in a windowless cell, the slightest dimming takes place. Similar to dark clouds blocking out the sun on a clear blue-sky day. The growling in my stomach also indicates the end of another day with limited water and zero food. I’d like to know how long they are giving Adam. Does he even know?

As the already backlit cell morphs into further dusk, another clicking sound from the hallway’s door sounds, and I glance down at the empty cup. It’s rare for me to have two cups a day. Unease prickles back up my spine again, my shoulders sore from the constant tension held between them.

I sense him before I see him. Each heavy footfall echoes between long strides where the boot meets the floor. Liam peers at me through the bars, his eyes catching on the shirt I’m wearing. His nostrils flare in the briefest of moments. Still staring at me, he backs up until his back hits the empty cell across from mine, and he sinks to the floor.

His legs are pulled up and bent, allowing his arms to drape over each kneecap. Both of his hands come together to twist the rings tugged over his fingers. I stare at him, and he meets my gaze with a faintly amused smirk on his face.

For the first time in this exceptionally quiet cell, loud thumping music sounds directly above me. And as if on cue, Liam purses his lips and raises his chin, leaning his head back so it smacks between two of the cell bars behind him. He closes his eyes, the rapid movement of his chest slowing with each breath.

I squint, eyes darting back and forth between him and the hallway that disappears out of my line of sight.

What the heck is he doing?