176

176
Emilia’s POV
The room was dark, and the air reeked of mildew and stale sweat. My entire body ached, and every movement sent sharp stabs of pain rippling through me. My cheek still throbbed where that bastard had hit me, and the coppery taste of blood lingered on my tongue. I didn’t dare try to stand; the last time I did, I’d nearly passed out from the dizziness.
Instead, I stayed curled up in the corner, my knees pulled to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. The dirty concrete floor was unforgiving, but at least it was cool against my feverish skin.
Voices filtered in from outside the room, low and muffled. I strained to hear, desperate for any scrap of information that might make sense of this nightmare.
“Alonso won’t like this.”
The name cut through the haze of my exhaustion. Alonso. Cruz. The don of their syndicate. The one who has had scores to settle with the Castillo family for as long as he could breathe. The one who Alaric hated more than anything else. The one who had ordered them to take me.
“Alonso’s orders were clear,” another voice said, sharper this time. “We don’t kill her.” Relief bubbled through me for a moment, and then it was quenched as fast when he added, “Not yet.”
My stomach twisted. Not yet. What the hell did that mean?
“Then what’s the point of keeping her here?” the first man snapped. “We’re sitting ducks if Castillo finds out where we are.”
“Castillo doesn’t know where we are. And if he does, it’ll be too late.”
Too late. The words echoed in my head, each syllable heavy with dread. My hands tightened into fists, nails digging into my palms. I couldn’t fall apart now. I couldn’t let them win.
The door creaked open, flooding the room with harsh, artificial light. I flinched, squinting against the sudden brightness.
“Still alive, princess?”
It was the man who’d hit me before, his voice dripping with mockery. He leaned against the doorframe, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips.
I didn’t answer.
“Nothing to say?” He stepped closer, and I instinctively pressed myself harder against the wall. “You’re lucky Alonso wants you alive. Otherwise…”
He trailed off, letting the threat hang in the air.
I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though every instinct screamed at me to look away. “Why am I here?” My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
He chuckled, crouching down so we were eye level. “That’s above my pay grade, sweetheart.”
I hated the way he said it, the way his eyes roamed over me like I was some kind of toy.
“But,” he continued, his tone mocking, “I can tell you this much-your boyfriend made some powerful enemies. And you? You’re just the bait.”
Bait. That single word ignited a flicker of anger in my chest, a small spark in the overwhelming darkness.
“You think Alaric won’t find me?” I said, my voice steadier now. “You think he’ll let you get away with this?”
The man’s smirk faltered for a split second, but he recovered quickly, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
He turned and left, slamming the door shut behind him.
I exhaled shakily, my hands trembling as I wiped away the tears that had started to fall. I couldn’t let them see me break. Not now. Not ever.
Hours passed-at least, I thought they did. It was hard to tell in this windowless room where time seemed to stretch and blur. My stomach growled angrily, the hunger gnawing at me like a wild animal. They hadn’t given me anything to eat since I’d been brought here, and my throat was dry and raw from thirst.
The voices outside the door came and went, snippets of conversations drifting in and out of reach.
“…Alonso wants to see her soon…”
“…he’s not happy with the delay…”
“…Castillo has been looking, but we’ve covered our tracks…”
Each fragment added another piece to the puzzle, but it was still incomplete, the edges jagged and impossible to fit together.
My body ached, my mind raced, and the isolation pressed down on me like a suffocating weight. Memories of Alaric flashed through my mind-his rare smiles, the way he touched me like I was something precious, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
I closed my eyes, letting the image of him fill the darkness. He was looking for me. I knew it. Alaric wouldn’t stop until he found me, and when he did, these bastards wouldn’t stand a chance.
The door opened again, and this time, two men entered. They didn’t say a word as they dropped a plate of food on the floor-a stale piece of bread and a bottle of water.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” one of them said with a sneer. “Your time’s almost up.”
I waited until they were gone before crawling toward the plate, my movements slow and deliberate. The bread was dry and tasteless, but I forced it down, washing it down with small sips of water.
The small act of nourishment gave me a sliver of strength, and I clung to it like a lifeline.
I wouldn’t give up. I wouldn’t let them break me.
The hours dragged on, the silence broken only by the occasional footsteps outside the door. I shifted against the wall, trying to ease the stiffness in my muscles.
Then, just as exhaustion began to pull me under, I heard it.
“Alonso’s on his way.”
The voice was low, but it was enough to snap me back to full awareness.
Alonso Cruz.
The name sent a chill down my spine, but it also sparked a flare of defiance. If this Alonso thought he could use me to get to Alaric, he was in for a rude awakening.
I wasn’t just some pawn in their game.
And when Alaric found me-and he would-I’d make damn sure they regretted ever underestimating me.