Chapter 2

Carrying the bloodied Julian on her back, Cynthia gave me one final glance.

"Babe, I swear, I'll be back in three days. Just wait for me, okay?"

With that, she stumbled away.

My heart went dead. I didn't say a word.

Watching her leave, Blake lit a cigarette. "Next lifetime, open your damn eyes before you pick a woman."

Ash fluttered onto my hair. A sob caught in my throat.

I told myself to endure it.

Just three days. Just a nightmare.

Once he finished smoking, Blake dragged me into a pitch-black holding cell.

To make sure I couldn't run, they shattered both of my legs with iron pipes.

The air stank of sour sweat and the metallic tang of fresh blood.

Crumpled in the corner, clutching through the agony, I whispered to myself: just endure it.

After an eternity, the door cracked open and someone slid a bowl of water inside.

Hope flared in my chest. Was the time up?

Then the guard laughed, telling me it had only been an hour.

Just endure it, I chanted.

In that suffocating dark, every second dragged like an entire year.

I held on until the edges of my sanity began to fray, until I was completely unraveling. Finally, the door creaked open.

Blinding light spilled across the floor. Grinning like a desperate dog, I dragged my broken body toward the exit.

I thought the nightmare was over. I thought Cynthia had finally come for me.

Instead, the moment I reached the threshold, Blake's furious roar rained down on me.

"That lying bitch! She swore she'd bring the ransom in three days, and she's out taking road trips with that little punk!"

My face drained of color. My lips trembled violently.

How? She promised. She swore she'd save me.

Why didn't she come? Why?

Blake spun around, stomping a heavy boot squarely onto my back, pinning me against the concrete.

My ribs cracked under the pressure, blinding pain radiating through my torso.

Glowering down at me, he hissed like a demon in my ear:

"Look at this, you pathetic loser. This is your loving wife."

"You're rotting here taking the fall, while she's playing happy couple with the bastard who caused it all. What a tragic joke."

A tremor shook my chest. I shook my head frantically. "No... impossible. Cynthia wouldn't leave me."

Blake chuckled coldly. Without another word, he shoved a phone in front of my face.

A video was playing.

Julian, wrapped in white bandages, was sitting side-by-side with Cynthia on a sandy beach. Their fingers were tightly intertwined as they watched the romantic sunset together.

The golden light cast their long shadows behind them, painting a picture of star-crossed lovers who had finally found peace.

That image pierced my heart like a serrated blade.

The emotional agony eclipsed every broken bone in my body!

My legs were shattered, I was locked in a dark hole, taking beatings meant for someone else.

And she was on a seaside vacation with him.

She abandoned me. Truly, completely abandoned me.

"You see that?! She threw you away like trash!"

My vision turned red. I screamed at the top of my lungs, "No! She wouldn't! That video is fake! It's fake!"

Blake sneered, shoving the screen closer. "Don't believe it? Call her then. Tell her to wire the money, or I'm putting a bullet in your head right now!"

He clamped a hand around my throat, forcing me to dial her FaceTime.

Staring at the frozen thumbnail of that video, my hand hesitated.

His grip tightened, choking off my air supply.

Weeping, my trembling fingers dialed the number burned into my memory.

The call connected quickly. But the voice on the other end belonged to Julian.

"Who is this? Cynthia's in the shower."

My breath hitched.

The shower?

She really threw me away to be with him?

Blake snatched the phone, slamming me back into the dirt, and barked into the receiver:

"Listen here, you little prick. Tell that bitch that if my cash isn't in my account immediately, I'm executing her husband!"

Julian didn't sound scared at all. He chuckled mockingly.

"Go ahead and kill him. Cynthia only traded him to buy time. She was never going to pay you. Why do you think she's on vacation with me?"

"And by the way, you're the punk. Your whole crew is trash, especially that little tramp of yours. I ran her over on purpose! Come and get me if you can, asshole."

With that, he hung up.

Listening to the dial tone, the last spark of life drained from my chest.

She never planned on saving me.

She wanted me to rot here so she could play house with her ex without any guilt.

I was such a fool. A blind, pathetic fool who clung to hope until the very end.

Trembling with pure rage, Blake dialed back several times, only to realize he had been blocked.

One of his thugs stepped forward, asking nervously, "Boss, what now? Do we kill him?"

Blake kicked me viciously, roaring, "Are you stupid?! If we kill him, how do we get paid?"

"He's not the pretty boy's husband, of course that prick doesn't care!"

"Record a video of us beating the living hell out of him! Send it to the bitch from his phone! Let's see if she picks her husband or her side piece!"

Fists, steel-toed boots, and wooden bats rained down upon me like a relentless storm.

Blood sprayed from my mouth.

A sickening sweetness coated my throat, as if my internal organs were rupturing.

I curled into a ball, screaming through the blinding pain, but someone pressed their dirty boot hard against my cheek, grinding my skull into the dirt.

Yet a foolish flicker of hope stirred again.

Blake was right. I hadn't heard Cynthia's own voice.

What if Julian orchestrated all of it?

What if Cynthia was still trying to save me?

They recorded my battered, bloody state and sent the video straight to Cynthia's phone.

Through the swelling in my eyes, a desperate smile touched my lips.