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"Are you fucking insane?" I screamed. "I'm not a fucking witch, you assholes!"
They didn’t pay me any mind. Instead, they stood there chantingwitch, witch, witch, witch.
"What the fuck is wrong with you people? Let me out of here!" Try as I might, nothing was working. I couldn't break myself out, and nobody was coming to save me. I had a feeling even if I did find a way out of the cabin, they wouldn't let me walk away. What the fuck was this? Did I somehow stumble into the sixteen-hundreds? I kept shouting and begging for someone among the crowd to find a fucking heart, and their brain, and let me out of here. I wasn't a witch. I didn't cast spells, or perform hexes, or ride on a broomstick. I was just Antonia. I was a nobody.
Where the fuck was Balthazar? As if my thoughts conjured him, the crowd split down the middle and someone stepped through with a lit torch in hand. No, not just someone. It was Bal. "Bal! Bal, baby, get me out of here!"
Bal looked up at me with that same emotionless face the guy who spoke earlier had. It dawned on me, then. Bal, the crowd, I knew them. They were Bal's business partners. Bal locked me in here. He was the one who took my phone. This was why he wanted us to go to a cabin for the weekend. It was all coming together. Bal planned this; they all planned it. My worst fears were correct. But... it didn't make any sense. Why would he do this to me?
Bal reached the front of the door, and I rushed over to the other side and banged on it, begging and pleading to for him to open the door and let me out. Telling him I loved him. Telling him I'm sorry for whatever I must've done for him to warrant my death. Anything to get him to save me.
"Antonia, I'm sorry," Balthazar’s voice was so soft I almost couldn't hear him over the sound of the flames and destruction occurring behind me. "I'm so sorry."
I thought that meant he was going to let me go. I hoped that was what it meant, and I clung to it as tight as I could, wishing for it to be the case. When I looked down, I saw flames cutting through the bottom of the door. With a gasp, I jumped back and screamed, knowing that was why Bal came to the door. Now I couldn't get anywhere near the door. I was trapped, truly and utterly fucked.
I was going to die, there was no way around it. I dreamt of a better life, but this was how it was going to end for me. I broke down sobbing, falling to the ground and curling myself into a ball, waiting for the inevitable to come and pray it would happen as painless as possible.
"Help me," I whimpered to myself knowing nobody would hear me. "I don't want to die."
Suddenly, I felt my head getting foggy. I thought it may have been the lack of oxygen shutting off my brain and putting me to sleep, but then a familiar raspy voice rang in my ear.
"Antonia," it whispered. "Do you wish for me to save you?"
"Yes," I said, not knowing if I was only imagining it or not, but not caring. "Yes, please save me."
"I can help you, but only under one condition," the voice said. "The only way I can agree to help you is if you become mine forever."
"Wha... what does that have to do with anything?" I whispered, worried the voice wouldn't be able to hear me.
"That will all be explained later. Right now, you don't have much time to delay. So, say you will be mine and I can spare you from this miserable fate. I can pull you out of here. But you have to say it."
Despite how hot the cabin was getting from the flames, my body was starting to feel cold as breathing was becoming more difficult. I felt myself drifting. Using the little energy I had left, I gave the voice what he wanted. "I'll be yours."
I vaguely recalled seeing something move in the flames, but my vision blurred further until my eyelids closed, and I drifted to sleep. I was dying like this and it fucking sucked.
Chapter4
Antonia
The feel of cold concrete against my heated body was what stirred me awake. My eyelids felt like cinderblocks as I forced them open, my vision was blurry at first until it started to clear moments later. The first thing I noticed was that I was in a small obsidian stone room. Nothing else was in here except for me and a window with scarlet-red light shining through it. Where in the hell was I? What happened to me? The last thing I could vaguely recall was Bal waking me up and telling me we were going away for the weekend. We got to the cabin, and...
That was when it all came flooding back to me.
Balthazar, the fire, being locked inside, my cell phone stolen so I couldn't call for help. And the men; dozens of Bal's colleagues standing outside watching as the cabin was becoming a blazing coffin. The constant chanting of witch as I screamed for them to save me. So, what happened after that? Did I die? Was I in Heaven? Taking in the room, I quickly deducted that nope, I was definitely not in Heaven. I couldn't have been dead either since I assumed death meant no more aches and pains. My entire body was screaming for mercy. My throat felt like sandpaper, and when I tried swallowing, the act brought out pain that had my eyes burning with unshed tears.
Okay, so if I wasn't dead, then where the hell was I?
Did Bal and his men rescue me after all?
I couldn't believe they would. I mean, why go through the trouble of trying to burn me alive for supposedly being a witch if they were going to pull me out of it in the end? I highly doubt they would've done it purely out of the kindness of their hearts. For starters, they needed to have hearts. Secondly, I didn't think there was any ounce of kindness in them. Groaning, I forced my protesting body to move. With some effort, I managed to sit myself up and lean my back against the obsidian wall behind me. When I moved, I heard the rattling of chains. Looking down, I saw that my wrists were currently sporting thick, metal cuffs with chains that pulled in opposite sides of the room and were bolted to the floor. I also noticed that I was still wearing my night gown, only now it was peppered with black soot and stained with smoke. I didn't even want to see how rough I must've looked right now.
Judging from the cuffs and the dark room, that I now realized was some medieval cellar. I was somebody's prisoner.
But a prisoner to who?
As if my mind conjured an answer, I heard the door opening followed by the sound of footsteps entering the cell. I looked up and instantly felt all the breath leaving my lungs. The man who stood facing me had to have been the most gorgeous human being I ever laid eyes on. Even my husband—I guess ex-husband now, thanks to the whole setting me on fire and becoming a widow thing—paled in comparison. His skin was a deep tan with thick black hair and the beginning of a beard along his face. His eyes were a lime green color, but from where I sat, I could sense a fire brewing within their depths. His body’s size was a masterpiece of perfection. He looked like he practically lived in the gym with broad shoulders and thick arms. He wore a black T-shirt that wrapped so tightly around his frame it would rip to shreds from a simple flex of his muscles. He also wore black cargo pants but was surprisingly barefoot.
"Oh good, you're awake," the man said in a low raspy tone that reminded me of the soft hum of a motor. A voice like that could getmymotor running, especially if they muttered filthy things into my ear.
