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After trying to stand multiple times, I decide to crawl my way to the bathroom. I feel a little strength return as the shower comes into view and rise up enough to turn the water on. I send a prayer of thanks to the designer of this bathroom who had the forethought to install a walk-in shower.
I don’t bother removing my clothes just yet. Instead, I sit back on the ground, lifting my face to the water and gulping down as much as I can stomach.
A hiss leaves me as I peel the scraps of fabric that used to be my shirt off my body. The wounds inflicted on me by her brother and his friends are still raw. She didn’t do any of the torturing herself. She only sat back and laughed as her minions beat me to a pulp and then used my body any way she wanted while I was too weak to fight back.
I shudder at the thought of her naked body touching mine ever again. I am disgusted with her for daring to use my body’snatural reaction to a naked woman against me. I don’t think she realizes that she’s ruined whatever normality we had. If these past two weeks hadn’t happened, I would still be playing the role of her side piece. I would’ve been compliant. Never completely willing, but I wouldn’t have fought back.
In truth, she did me a favor. I no longer need to be the man she deems unworthy of being her mate but is unwilling to give up. Never again.
The water I gulped down comes back up, spewing over the floor of the shower and I find the strength to lift myself onto the bench seat in the corner so that the vomit doesn’t make me even more filthy than I already am.
By the time I’ve washed myself so much that my skin is raw, the smell of something hot and delicious wafts through the room. I shut off the shower, wrap the towel around my waist, and slowly walk back into the room. There, sitting on the table, is a large plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.
I try to rush, but my muscles protest. I grip the pile of clothes sitting on the chair and look around, not seeing anyone and not remembering hearing a door open or close. I might have been too focused on getting myself clean to notice.
My mouth waters at the sight of the food, but I know that I need to take it slowly. After pulling on the clothes, I take a bite of food, chewing thoroughly and letting it settle for a moment before repeating.
As I slowly savor the food, the taste and warmth filling my belly, I can’t help but wonder about Antonia’s motives. She’s kept me captive and subjected me to unimaginable pain, but now she’s provided a meal and some semblance of freedom. Her explanation about deprogramming Zach and her concern about my mother’s influence on him leaves me conflicted. Could that really be the reason she kept me down here for so long? Or is itpossible that she wanted to try to break me even more than she already has?
As I eat, my mind races with thoughts of escape and reuniting with my children. I know that I can’t let this continue any longer.
I’ve always feared for my parliament. I stayed and played my role to protect them. Now, I know that I also need to look out for myself and my children. Despite my worry over the rest of my family, I’m determined to find a way out of this situation. For now, I need to regain my strength and heal my body. The wounds inflicted upon me are still fresh, and I need to be strong if I hope to break free.
I take a deep breath, trying to summon the strength and resolve to confront her and find a way to escape this nightmare. It won’t be easy, but I’m determined to do whatever it takes to protect my children and end this torment once and for all.
As I exit my underground prison, my heart pounds in anticipation. Two long weeks have passed since I last saw the sun or either of my children. Zach, I had grown accustomed to not seeing, but not my Amelia. I am used to seeing her every day. Just the thought of seeing her today has excitement bubbling up inside me.
The door groans in protest as I push it open, and a sliver of golden light pierces through the crack. I have to shield my eyes with my hand. My eyes are no longer accustomed to the sun after spending so long in darkness.
With a deep breath, I step out into the world I have missed so dearly. The transition is almost overwhelming. The air feels warm and inviting against my skin, and I stop for a moment, allowing the sensation to wash over me. With my eyes closed, my other senses kick into overdrive. The sound of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze is loud in my ears.
Slowly, I open my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the brilliant sunlight. The sky stretches out endlessly above me, an unbroken expanse of blue that seems to go on forever. The sun itself hangs in the sky like a radiant jewel, casting its golden glow over everything in its path.
I take a few hesitant steps forward, my eyes scanning the landscape before me. The world has changed in the eight weeks I have been away. I spent six in Corfu—an entirely different climate—and two hidden in that basement. The trees that were barren when I saw them last are now adorned with lush green leaves, and the flowers that were mere buds are now in full bloom, their colors a riot of reds, blues, and yellows.
I can feel the sun’s warmth seeping into my bones, chasing away the chill of the underground. It is as if the sun itself is welcoming me back, its rays caressing my skin like a long-lost friend.
I raise my arms to the sky, basking in the glory of the sun’s embrace. It is a feeling of pure euphoria, but not as euphoric as the sound I hear next.
“Daddy!” My head snaps in her direction, and I catch a glimpse of her long, chestnut hair flowing behind her.
I force my feet to move as quickly as they can as we race toward each other, only to be stopped by a blast of air just before our bodies collide.
“Daddy!” Amelia cries, reaching out her hand toward mine. Tears begin flowing down her beautiful little face.
“It’s okay, Pumpkin.” I say the words, not knowing if they are true or not, and search out the cause of our separation. As I look around, I see many of the coven members nearby staring in shock, mouths dropped open. There are more than a few that host smirks on their faces though.
“We talked about this, Amelia,” Antonia scolds our daughter as she steps into view.
“But—” Amelia begins, earning a glare from her mother. My little girl flinches away from the look, and my stomach sinks. That single action tells me everything I need to know about what happened over the past two weeks.
I look over my little girl, paying more attention this time. Though she looked as perfect as always at first glance, I can see the toll that spending two weeks with her monster of a mother has exacted when I look closer. Gone are her full cheeks. They are now hollow with weight loss. Big, black bags rest under her eyes, and I’m sure I’d find bruises beneath her long-sleeved shirt and pants.
I turn my glare toward Antonia.
“What is the meaning of this?”
She ignores my question for a moment, walking over to Amelia and stroking her hair with a cruel smile.
