Chapter 7 Ellie

I'm shaking. Rage. Pain. Sadness. They blur my vision and keep me paralysed on a spot. I hear the guttural wail, realising it's mine as I fall.

Nothing but the cold, hard floor catches me in the end, and my mind becomes a time machine. It takes me back to the day I met him. On a chilly Saturday evening.

*•*

"It's not working, ma'am. Why don't you step down and wait for the next bus?"

I bite my bottom lip, looking at my shoes. One heel came off. My house is a ways away. I can't get off this bus. Everyone at the stop will think I'm homeless.

"I'll pay for her," a voice says behind me.

I turn abruptly and almost ram into a sturdy chest. His warm eyes fix on mine. I suddenly wish they were purple in colour or yellow or just plain wrong. Otherwise, I won't be as mesmerised as I am now by just...eyes.

"Sorry," I mutter, still lost in his gaze.

His hands on my shoulders move me out of his path while he steps closer to pay with his tap card.

"Thank you," I say, and he nods once.

We can't stand here any longer. More people are rushing into the bus that's about to leave. He snaps out of whatever this is first and makes a gesture that says 'after you'.

I settle into a window seat in the back of the bus. He chooses the window seat three chairs forward. An unconscious pout appears on my face, and a funny feeling spreads in my chest. But I'm focusing on the night view outside the window for now.

After a while, the bus arrives at my stop, which I've been dreading. My saviour is still sitting down as I pass. I pout again. While on the sidewalk, I must figure out how to make my stilettos work.

I move to break off the other heel when someone crouches before me. I see the mop of dark brown hair I stared at like a maniac throughout the bus ride.

"What are you doing?" I ask in an alarmed tone because he picks my bare feet and slips them into a pair of black trainers.

"It's dangerous to walk home with bare feet. There might be broken glass or something ahead."

"You can't give me these." I pause eye-hawking the black sports bag that's open and showing a basketball. "I already owe you for the bus fare."

He grins, "Wait. Wait a minute, cinderella. This isn't a handout."

My arms fold over my chest in frank disbelief. I'm agape.

"Cinderella? Maybe you should have brought glass slippers then, not trainers."

"Well, I'm not a prince," he winks after picking up his bag and placing the long strap on his shoulder.

He backs away, still grinning. "Don't forget you owe me, Cinder. I'll definitely see you around."

I don't even know his name, but he made himself so memorable that he's the only thing I think about for the next three weeks until we cross paths again.

*•*

How could he have lied to me? Everything we had felt so real. It was real from the moment we met, from the first smile to our first kiss. I need him to tell me the truth now, but he's dead. I will never see him again.

It hurts like burning coals on the skin. I can't cope with the knowledge that he deceived me. My heart is on the floor, broken, and there's no manual on how to stitch back the pieces.

♡

I lay on the floor next to the sofa, sweaty and ruined. It's been hours I think, but I haven't moved from a spot. I've heard many voices around the house. His and a few others. I want to get past this, but I don't even know how to move my arm.

I even hear footsteps around me all the time. Sometimes, I smell food, different by the hour. Now, it's toast and eggs I smell, but I'm not hungry. I'm just heartbroken, and like any other disease, it makes me weak. It's draining all the life out of me.

Hours pass again. My tears replenish and they fall hard...again.

"Ellie."

I feel his voice inside me. It's like someone struck a match in the middle of a void, like hope. That tiny flame exists as a spark in my mind, but it doesn't last before sadness consumes it.

I open my eyes. I'm still lying on the floor next to the sofa. My heart doesn't feel any better. It's worse.

"The boss already made a deal with death. He's the only one who decides whether you get to live or not."

I try my voice, but that doesn't work, either.

"You've been like this for two days," he stands before me, shiny black Italian shoes next to my face, "If you don't eat this time, I will shove it down your throat. I swear it."

Two days. Shit. But I think he's not the type of man to say what he doesn't mean. I don't know if I've read wrong, but I just know it. Fear makes me lift myself up until I'm sitting, back rested against the sofa. I lift my eyes slowly.

For someone whom I thought never wears his emotions on his sleeves, he frowns at the sight of my broken face, his concerned gaze as piercing as a lance. Maybe the waterproof makeup I had on couldn't withstand my fit of tears, and I now look like a train to Busan zombie.

"Water," I croak.

He picks the tumbler from the table next to the avocado toast and eggs dish and brings it to my lips. I gulp it down despite my previous reluctance to accept the mug he offered me days ago. My throat stings from being out of use for so long.

I hold myself up with my elbows on the edge of the sofa cushion. When I stand, I'm surprised that my legs understood the assignment.

He studies every part of me, eyes concerned and alarmed. I point at-my eyes dart to the window-breakfast.

"Uhm...don't...shove it down-" I drop, like a bag of sand, before I can finish.

His arms catch my fall. "Ellie?!"

I lose consciousness.

When I open my eyes again, the blurry walls of my bedroom are what I see. Mist clears after a second, and I notice the drip line attached to the back of my hand. My head hurts. A soft groan falls from my lips. What the fuck happened? I move to rip off the line and stand.

"Try that, and I'll kill you."

All of it. It wasn't a bad dream.

I pause. "Seriously. Don't you have something better to do?"

He's sitting in my armchair, one leg crossed over his knee. A drink in one hand. It's a model pose any girl will mentally scream for, but I'm not just any girl. I'm the one whose husband was murdered.

"I see that you're back to normal."

He stands, and if I had any more space on this bed to scoot backwards, I would have. He knows how to intimidate everyone else in the room by just being there.

"It's sad that will only happen when you and your kind vanish from the face of the earth," I seethe.

"Mehza's dead. Who knows? Your wish just might come true."

A tear rolls down my cheek at the mention of his name. My voice shakes in leashed anger. "I'm warning you. Leave him out of your stupid mouth!"

My captor bends, putting down his left hand and the right on the other side of my face. My head touches the pillow before I even know what's happening. One will think I've got drums in my chest.

"Or what, Ellie?" he looks me in the eye, and it's like he's laughing at my sorrow. "Will you kill me like you've been dying to?"

"Move," I grit, lips pursing, "Get off me before I do something brave for humanity like plucking your eyeballs out of their sockets."

He laughs hard.

But he obeys only because he's found a new way to torture me. I think I can withstand anything after learning the truth about Zane, but I'm wrong. He begins to show me why he's in this line of business with the way he talks.

"I knew Mehza well."

"Stop it. I don't want to hear you speak!"

But he reminds me again that what I want doesn't matter in the grand scheme of my current situation.

"You know, the first time I met him, it was in Paris. The city of love. We didn't come together, no. I was there to deliver a message on behalf of the boss," he sits on the armchair again, savouring the scent of his wine like he enjoys doing that more than tasting it, "A senator owed Cian big-time. I recall entering the distinguished man's home as a guest, only to find him in a meeting with his son-in-law. Such a charming young man Mehza was. I could see why the French girl loved him."

My ears ring. He takes a sip of his drink, and when the rim moves away from his mouth, it leaves a dark smile in its wake.

"What did I ever do to you?" I shake my head bitterly, lowering it.

"You are the reason I'm stuck here."

"Did I ask for any of this?!" I scream, tearing up and fisting my chest, "I didn't ask to say vows to a different man while the man I love laid in his pool of blood at my feet. Fuck, I-I didn't ask to be your prisoner."

He's silent for a moment, watching the liquid in his glass swirl. I sob, bringing my knees to my chest, burying my teary face in my thighs.

"You didn't let me finish," he says in a low, steely voice.

"Trust me, I don't want to know what happens next," I sniffle, still not raising my head, but like always, he gets off on ignoring me, better than any self gratification.

"It was a year ago. My trip to the senator's house happened in July last year."

My heart breaks again if that's even possible. He was already married. God. Our memories together rush back to me. I can't escape them. It's torture to my entire being because I remember that summer. It was the only one we had spent apart from each other.

"Do you not get it. Mehza never loved you-"

I shoot my head up, wiping my tears with conviction. "Yes, I get it! But whatever. Can I have my cell phone now?"

Although he doesn't show it, I know he's shocked by how quickly I recovered from that. A gag rises in my throat, but I will no longer give him the satisfaction of knowing what buttons to push to get to me. He won't win this war. I hope I will.

"Not until I establish some ground rules."

My eyes snap to the corner where he's seated, surprised. No one said anything about rules. I'm desperate to have my cell phone back. Tina must be worried sick about me, that is, if these monsters didn't do anything to harm her and her family.

He takes a menacing stand next to my bed, peering down at me.

"Rule number one. You are not allowed to die until the boss says so. Two. You will eat, drink, and be happy. There are snipers positioned 24/7 around your house. Three. You are not allowed to go anywhere without me-"

I snort immediately, "If you want to see me naked, you can just say so."

He defines glaring with the way he's looking at me now. I swallow my spit, hiding from his eyes, even though I don't want to because they have a way of getting you intrigued and wanting for more-oh, shut up, Ellie.

"My answer is no, though," I say, and his voice is severe when responds, "Don't fucking test my patience, Ellie."

"What? I just thought I'd get that out there-"

"Rule. Number four. You will never use a phone again until we're back in Dublin to start your new life."

My mouth falls open. "Dublin?" I shudder before shaking off the mental image. "But you just said you'll give me my phone after laying your stupid ground rules."

He mocks me with that frown. "Just when did I say that, Ellie?"

"You..." I stop acting naive, shutting up because he has this round.

"Good girl. Get some rest and pray to whatever you believe in that Cian sends word soon."

"And what happens if he doesn't send word at all?"

He makes for the door, looking over his shoulder.

"A war neither of us will survive."