Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Eloise's POV

Consciousness returned to me in a thick fog of damp concrete and the acrid stench of bleach.

I instinctively tried to move my hands, but the zip ties bit deeply into my wrists.

I looked down to find myself strapped to a chair, sitting in what looked like a basement retrofitted into a makeshift operating room.

A surgical light hung directly above me, the glaring beam blinding me.

"She's awake." Holden's voice.

He stepped into the light. He had shaved his head. He was wearing a white doctor's coat over his tactical gear. The getup was grotesque-like a child playing surgeon with the intentions of a butcher.

"Where are we?" I rasped.

"Somewhere Alphonse can't find us," Holden said. He didn't look at me; he was busy laying out instruments on a metal tray. Needles, IV tubing, scalpels. "He thinks you ran away. Jaidyn left a note, perfectly forging your handwriting. It was very convincing."

"He won't believe it," I said, my voice growing a fraction stronger. "He knows I never run."

"He knows you're a spoiled princess," Holden turned to me, his eyes bloodshot and unhinged. "And he knows you absolutely loathe this marriage."

"You are the one I loathe," I corrected him, holding his gaze. "I respect him."

Holden's face twisted into an ugly sneer. He picked up a thick needle, the metal glinting menacingly under the harsh light.

"Jaidyn is sick, Eloise. Very sick. Her heart... it's failing. The stress from you attacking her finally pushed her over the edge."

"I never laid a hand on her," I said, struggling against the plastic ties. "She's playing you, Holden. She's been playing you for ten years."

"Shut up!" He slammed a hand on the tray, making the instruments clatter. "She needs a blood transfusion. It's the only way to keep her strength up until I can source a compatible heart donor from the black market. Your blood type is a match. O-negative. The universal donor. Isn't that ironic?"

The door opened.

Jaidyn walked in.

She looked radiant, her cheeks flushed with a healthy color. She looked perfectly fine. She was even eating an apple.

"Is she ready?" Jaidyn asked, taking a loud, crisp bite of the fruit.

I stared at her in sheer disbelief. "You're eating. You're walking. You are perfectly fine."

Jaidyn winked at me. She literally winked.

"Holden, I feel so weak," she cooed, her voice instantly dropping to a frail whisper. She leaned against the doorframe, letting the apple slip from her hand. "I feel like... I'm going to pass out."

Holden rushed to her side instantly, abandoning me. "Sit down, baby. I'm starting the procedure now. I'll get the blood for you."

He guided her to a plush armchair in the corner. She sat down, flashing me a knowing smirk over his shoulder.

"Holden, look at her!" I screamed, thrashing against the chair. "She's playing you! She's jealous of me, and she wants to bleed me dry!"

Holden marched back to me. He grabbed my arm, roughly swabbing the inside of my elbow with alcohol.

"You don't get a say in this," he growled. "You lost the right to speak the second you tried to kill an angel."

"She's not an angel," I whispered. "She's a succubus."

Without a hint of hesitation, he plunged the needle into my vein.

I gasped. The pain was sharp and intense. Dark red blood surged through the tubing, flowing at an alarming rate into the collection bag hung on the IV pole.

"Comfy?" Jaidyn asked from her corner.

"Go to hell," I spat.

She giggled. "Your husband isn't coming. No one is coming."

I watched helplessly as my life force drained from my body, filling the plastic bag. A deep chill set into my bones. My vision began to blur, the edges of the room turning fuzzy.

But I didn't beg. My maiden name was Bowers. My married name was Woodward.

I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of a single scream.

Three days.

I spent three agonizing days handcuffed to that chair.

Holden had drained three bags of blood from me.

I felt incredibly heavy, trapped in an endless spell of dizziness. I was severely dehydrated, surviving on mere sips of water and dry crackers, just because Holden wanted my blood kept "pure."

Jaidyn sat in the corner, idly flipping through a fashion magazine. She was hooked up to an IV tube that supposedly led somewhere. The saline solution was just dripping onto the floor behind her chair, pooling on the concrete, but Holden was too obsessed with monitoring my drip rate to even notice.

"She looks pale," Jaidyn said, bored. "Maybe drain another pint, just to be safe."

"That might kill her," Holden muttered. He was in a daze, his eyes bloodshot. He hadn't slept, entirely consumed by his twisted medical fantasy. "If she dies, the supply dries up."

"If she dies, we dump the body and flee the country," Jaidyn said coldly. She stood up and sauntered over to me. She scrutinized my face-the dark circles under my eyes, my cracked lips.

She smirked. "You don't look much like a Mafia Queen right now, Eloise. You look like a junkie."

"And you," I rasped, "look like a cheap whore in borrowed clothes."

Jaidyn's expression hardened. She reached out and brutally jammed the needle deeper into my arm.

A sharp pain shot up to my shoulder, and I let out a groan.

"Holden, get another bag," she ordered. "She still has way too much fight in her."

"Okay," Holden said. He was nothing but a puppet, a weapon she pointed and fired. "One more."

He reached for a fresh bag.

I closed my eyes. I was destined to die right here.

Alphonse.

I thought of his dark eyes, the way he had looked at me at the wedding.

One hour. If you don't walk out, I'm coming in.

That deadline had passed days ago. He didn't come. Maybe Holden was right. Maybe he truly believed I had run away.

Holden hooked up the new bag. The pull started again. A cold wave washed over my chest.

Suddenly, there was a sound.

Not from inside the room, but from above.

A thud. Heavy. Like a body hitting the floor.

Holden froze. "What was that?"

"Probably just the wind," Jaidyn said, but her voice trembled. "Hurry up and finish this."

Holden tensed, his hands visibly shaking.

"Don't worry," Jaidyn insisted. "Alphonse isn't coming."

"There's no love between him and Eloise. It's just a transaction."

Another muffled thud. Then the sound of splintering wood.

Holden snatched a gun from the tray. "Stay here."

He moved toward the door.

Before he could even reach it, the steel door exploded inward.

It wasn't kicked open; it was blown off its hinges by C4. The room instantly filled with acrid gray smoke.

Holden fired blindly into the haze. Bang! Bang!

A silhouette emerged from the gray mist. A titan. A demon.