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“You know, don’t you?”
“Adriana.” I hit my head against the seat. Fuck.
“To her credit, she’s willing to do anything for you. All I had to do was tell her the truth and she realized what you cannot. You’re not safe. She was starting to withhold information, so I reminded her who she worked for. So sad her love had to die because she got cold feet.”
This was my fault. How could I trust her? Orlando had always told me humans were liars by nature, that friends were foes in disguise and to never make it personal.
How dare she?
“You’re hurt.”
“No, I’m enraged and looking forward to putting a slug through her ungrateful little heart.” Leaning back, I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax, but my body couldn’t take any more right now. All I could do was close my eyes and plan. Nothing she said had changed how I felt about her. The moment this plane landed, I would have to act. Fast.
THIRTY-FIVE
“Imagine trying to live without air. Now imagine something worse.”
—Amy Reed
MELODY
“Five days ago, my wife Melody Giovanni Callahan was kidnapped only hours after giving birth to our son. I want her back. My son and I need her. My family and I are offering one hundred million dollars for her safe return. Mel, if you’re watching, I’m not giving up. I won’t ever give up until I have you back. Our son and I miss you and love you so much…”
“I think that’s enough for now.” Aviela’s voice grated on every nerve in my body.
My hatred for her continued to fester each moment spent in her presence. She turned off the television, and rushed from the kitchen to place a plate in front of me. “Giant meatballs and spaghetti. Your favorite, right?”
I just stared at her, doing nothing to hide my hatred and disgust for the woman who gave birth to me.
“A hundred million? You should be insulted.” She took a seat at the other end of the luxurious dining room table before spreading her napkin and dropping it on her lap. She had chained me to every fucking chair until we reached this place, which, from what I could tell, was on the edge of a beach. Then, I was upgraded to a wheelchair. The last two days had been more of the same rhetoric about how she was trying to save me, how she only did this to protect me.
I didn’t know who she was trying to convince.
All this time I thought she was some cold-hearted mastermind, always plotting, always one step ahead of us because she was just that good. But I was wrong. She was delusional; I wasn’t even sure if she really understood what she was doing. Part of her still saw me as that little girl she left in the middle of the ocean, while another part of her understood I was grown.
I thought she was strong; I’d admired her tenacity and her tactics in getting what she wanted done efficiently and effectively, but the moment she spoke of her father, Ivan, she became weak. Whatever he had done to her had broken her. She was at his beck and call—his lap dog—and it disgusted me. She was no better than the low-level sycophants that worked for me.
Every day she washed and combed my hair and even dressed me, all while keeping me chained. She treated me like I was her own personal doll. The second day I tried playing nice, today I tried not speaking. There was something seriously wrong with this woman.
Despite my tactics to evoke a reaction from her, she acted as if nothing fazed her. The only time I got a response from her was when I “misbehaved.” Other than that, she gave no indication that she was here in this space other than physically. I needed to get out of here but I didn’t even know what country I was in.
“Do you need me to get someone to help you, sweetheart?” she asked, cutting into her food with her finely polished silverware. She nodded over at the soon-to-be dead rat’s rail thin frame at the door. Nelson came over, and like a robot, he cut into my food before bringing it to my lips.
I guess even sycophants can have sycophants.
Opening my mouth, I took the food into it and chewed it briefly before I spat it into his face.
“MELODY!”
He took a step back as Aviela walked forward. Nelson wiped his face slowly before glaring at me.
Aviela grabbed my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. “I am trying here, Melody. I want you to be happy with me, okay? I love you, but you have to let go of him and that child. They are your past, a past you would never have had if we could’ve been together. I love you, so please behave, because I don’t want to hurt you.”
“The only thing stopping me from snapping your fucking neck right now are these damn cuffs. So fuck y—”
She slapped me so hard my teeth cut the bottom of my lip. Licking the blood off, I looked up to her, smiling. “You’re a horrible mother, always have been… always will be.”
She slapped me twice, then a third time before she pulled back.
“Stop making me hurt you!”
My face burned and I knew without looking that my cheek would have an imprint of her hand on it.
I laughed without humor, and wondered briefly if her brand of crazy was infectious or hereditary. Banishing the thought from my mind, I focused on the woman breathing harshly before me.
“Is that what dear old grandpa used to say to you?”
“You know nothing.”
“I know enough. This isn’t helping. You think you are, but you aren’t. Let me go, tell me who Ivan is and we can all be free of him.”
She shook her head, running her hands through her short hair. “No, no. You don’t know him. You don’t know anything. Just let me protect you, sweetheart. You can’t beat him, no one beats him. It’s okay…”
“You, me, and Liam, we can take—”
“NO! I said no! I’m going to protect you, okay? Me, your mommy. Not Liam, not anyone else. You’re gone now. Ivan won’t bother your family. Just be good, Melody. Be good for me, okay?”
It was like trying to reason with a child having a tantrum. “Ivan is just a man.”
“ENOUGH!” Taking a deep breath, she smoothed out her expression. “You’ve ruined a perfectly enjoyable dinner. You were so well behaved when I was raising you.”
“You never raised me, Aviela.”
She looked me in the eyes then and they seemed flat; there was no depth to her, just a hollow shell of the woman that was once my mother. Standing up straighter, she walked over to the fireplace that was situated under a painting of a younger version of herself. Pulling a syringe off the mantle, she sighed before turning to me.
“Aviela,” I hissed, knowing what was coming. I tried to back away from her but she just kept coming.
She brushed the side of my face, and if it weren’t for what she was about to do, I’d think she was attempting to be tender. “This will help your pain.”
“AVIELA, DON’T!” She pushed my sleeve up my arm and I tried to fight her off but the robot came to her aid, grabbing my shoulders.
“No,” I said as the needle found my vein.
“You know what’s ironic?” Aviela asked. “I bought this batch from your dealer.”
“Mom,” I whispered as everything spun in colors.
“Shh, sweetheart. We will try again tomorrow, okay? You will be good for me later. Everything will look and feel so much better. I promise, okay baby? I promise.”
