Chapter 45: Chapter 45

In the dank, foul-smelling room where they’d dumped her, Elnora hugged her knees to her chest, feeling a sick churn in her stomach. The only thing covering her was Mason’s oversized shirt, now clinging uncomfortably to her skin. The filth of the place made her skin crawl, and the memory of rough hands shoving her around left her seething. If she got out of this alive, she’d need more than a month of massages and pampering to scrub off the grime and the touch of those men—a big “if” she couldn’t afford to dwell on.

Fear had burned away, replaced by a smouldering anger that fuelled her thoughts. Joe had made this personal, and she would make sure that he’d get what was coming to him.

The sound of the creaking lock snapped her out of her thoughts. Two armed men barged in, flooding the room with a harsh yellow light. The room she was in was bare except for a metal chair under a dim, low-hanging bulb.

“Time to go, Dolly,” the short-haired man with a thick beard barked at her as he motioned for her to move with his gun.

~Dolly? Useless cunt!~

Elnora tried to adjust Mason’s shirt, only for the blonde one of the two to roughly grab her arm, yanking her to her feet. He shoved her carelessly toward the bearded man, and she winced as she collided with his solid frame.

The bearded man’s eyes roved over her body, a lecherous gleam in his gaze that made her stomach turn. She stiffened, trying to shrug him off as she tugged at the hem of the shirt, wishing she’d had a chance to change before being dragged from Eden.

“A dolly indeed,” he sneered, gripping her chin with a force that made her jaw clench in pain. Elnora shot him a furious glare, her skin crawling under his touch.

“Enough. Joe’s getting impatient,” the blonde man snapped, growing tired of the scene.

The bearded man released her with a grin, and they hauled her out of the room and into a bright corridor. Elnora’s eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. Where were they taking her? And what had happened to Marcy? She clung to the small comfort that Joe didn’t seem inclined to hurt her friend.

How the hell had Joe pulled this off, running his personal hideout out of a hotel like this? They’d blindfolded her and transported her from the safehouse to this place in a van, so she had no idea where she was.

As expected, Joe wasn’t anything special with computers—she had to contact him to Eden to demand Enrico’s surrender. Even a half-wit should’ve realized how idiotic that was. If Giorgio and Mateo were as sharp as she knew, they would trace the signal and find her. But that left one nagging question: who was funding Joe? It had to be someone with deep pockets and underground connections, someone who knew how to leverage the right assets to make this happen.

The bearded pervert finally reached the end of the corridor, pausing to peek into a room before jerking his head for her to follow. “Get in there.”

Elnora hesitated, her stomach twisting in disappointment. She had hoped this would be her chance to get out of here, but instead, they were just moving her to another damned stinky room. The lighting was as dim and oppressive as before and that did nothing to comfort her. If Joe planned to torture or kill her, she wished he’d just get it over with. This endless waiting was wearing her down.

The door slammed shut behind her with a deafening bang, making her jump. She scanned the room—a grim scene straight out of a nightmare. Bloody chains dangled from the ceiling, and the stench of dried blood, sweat, and something far worse assaulted her senses. She covered her nose with her hand, trying to block out the smell as she took in the surroundings. Then she spotted a body crumpled against the wall, and her heart nearly stopped.

Backing away, Elnora swallowed. The idea of being trapped in here with a corpse was the last straw. But as she stared at the figure, it twitched and let out a low groan. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she squinted to see more clearly.

“Donni?” she whispered, rushing to his side.

She rolled him onto his side, horrified by the sight. His face was a mess of bruises, and his clothes were soaked with blood and water. Ropes bound his elbows tightly behind his back with his ankles tied together, leaving him barely conscious. How was he even alive? She pressed her ear to his chest—his breathing was faint, but he was still hanging on.

His knife.

Elnora quickly sat down, kicking off her boot to retrieve the small blade Donni had given her earlier. Once she had the knife in hand, she started sawing through the thick ropes around his arms as quickly as she could. The blade was small but razor-sharp, and she worked quickly, her heart racing as she glanced at Donni’s bloodied face. His ropes around his elbows snapped free and she immediately moved to his legs. He needed medical attention, and fast.

The door creaked open, and Elnora’s heart dropped. She hastily tucked the knife under Donni’s body, cursing under her breath. Just a little more, and she would’ve freed him completely. The bearded man entered alone, locking the door behind him with a click that echoed ominously in the small room. The lecherous gleam in his eyes made her skin crawl.

Her eyes darted around, desperately searching for something, anything she could use as a weapon. She slowly rose to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest as she backed away.

Damn it, the knife was under Donni.

“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, dolly,” the man sneered, his thumbs hooked casually in the loops of his pants as he leered at her.

Elnora recoiled, disgust twisting her features. “Ugh, you’re such a waste of sperm,” she spat, relieved to see he didn’t have a weapon—she had a fighting chance.

“Just keep yapping, dolly,” he snarled, his grin widening into something sickeningly predatory.

“If you keep calling me that, I’ll kick your balls so far up your throat you’ll choke,” she spat.

He lunged at her, and she backed up against the wall, but he was faster. He grabbed her wrists, slamming her hard against the cold concrete. His hand shot to her throat, squeezing until she gasped for air. Pain exploded in her skull as her head collided with the wall, her vision blurring as she struggled to stay conscious.

“What was that you said?” he snarled, his face inches from hers, breath hot and sour against her skin.

Elnora’s vision swam, but the idiot’s snarl reminded her that she still had fight left in her. Summoning every ounce of strength, she drove her knee into his groin with all her might.

“You bitch!” he hissed through clenched teeth, his grip on her throat tightening before he slammed her into the wall again. As she crumpled to the floor, he doubled over in pain, cursing her under his breath.

Elnora gasped for air, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure. The pounding in her head was relentless, but she forced herself to focus. She scanned the room for anything—anywhere—to escape. But there was no time. She saw his shadow as he started to stand up, his eyes blazing with fury before he reached for her again.

Desperate, she lunged forward, trying to dive between his legs, her mind fixated on one thing: Donni’s knife. If she could just get to it, she would drive it into his skull.

But he was quicker, his hand closing around her ankle like a vice, dragging her back across the cold floor. He pinned her down, his weight pressing heavily on her, and she felt panic rising in her chest. His hands grappled for her arms, but she clawed at his face, aiming for his eyes. She knew that if he managed to pin her completely, there would be nothing left but Mason’s shirt between her and the violation she’d rather die than endure.

Suddenly his eyes widened in shock, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as he froze above her. Elnora stared in horror as blood began to trickle from his throat, dripping onto her. The man’s grip slackened, and Donni shoved him off her, his own body wavering with effort. Elnora scrambled back, watching in fear and grim satisfaction as her attacker clutched his throat, his eyes wide with terror, drowning in his own blood.

“Signoria,” Donni grunted, collapsing beside her, one arm clutching his side, his knife still clenched in the other.

The man crumpled to the floor in a pool of blood, and Elnora let out a shaky breath, burying her face in her hands. The room spun around her, but she forced herself to look up as Donni gently turned her face towards him.

“Are you all right?” he breathed, his voice rough with pain.

His face was a mess—his right eye swollen shut, his lips split and bruised. But even with the blood and the pain all over him, that one good eye still held a fierce, menacing gleam.

“I’m fine,” Elnora lied, wincing as the pounding in her skull intensified. “Are you? You look terrible.”

Donni attempted to pull himself to his feet, wincing as he clutched his side. “I’ve been through worse,” he muttered, moving slowly towards the tall window at the back of the room, scanning the area outside before making his way back to the dead man. He was hurting more than he let on; the way he cradled his side suggested severe injuries.

“Look away, signoria,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost apologetic.

Elnora blinked, forcing herself out of her thoughts, and turned away from him, hugging herself tightly. This was another in a series of nightmarish experiences that she knew would haunt her forever. She loathed the helplessness she felt, the feeling that if Donni hadn’t somehow intervened she could have been… she shook the thought out of her head.

She tried to calm herself, closing her eyes and taking deep, measured breaths. But the memory of his hands on her, the force with which he had slammed her into the wall, the relentless pain in her head—these were things she couldn’t shake off.

Donni approached her again, holding out a pistol, a cellphone, and the knife he had used to save her. “We need to get you out of here.” His voice was low and she saw the pain in his eyes. “I’m glad this came in handy.” He handed her the knife, and she took it, her hand trembling slightly as she forced a small smile.

“It did,” Elnora whispered, her voice barely audible as she swallowed the fear clawing at her throat. “Now what?”

Donni held up a phone, his blood-streaked hand trembling slightly. “Can you use this to get a signal out?”

Taking the phone, Elnora nodded. “I don’t need it though. Joe made me call Eden to reach Ric. I triangulated our location during the call. Giorgio should have been able to trace it.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at Donni’s lips. “Good. I need you to stay here while I check outside, see what’s going on.”

Panic flared in her chest, her eyes darting to the dead man sprawled on the floor, his blood pooling around him. She could still feel his hands on her, and the idea of being left alone in this hellish room tightened her throat.

“No.” Donni’s voice cut through her spiralling thoughts as he stepped closer, turning her away from the gruesome sight. His hands gripped her shoulders, firm but gentle. “Keep your eyes off him. Focus on me. Stay right here.”

“What if someone else comes in?” She clutched the knife, its handle slick with her sweat.

“You’ve got a knife in your hand,” Donni reminded her, though his voice was softer now, a reassurance that felt out of place for his usual brutal personality.

“You’re barely able to walk,” she reminded him, gesturing to his battered body. “I’ll go with you.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’ll lead. They need me alive, either to bargain with or, apparently, to try to rape.”

A grim laugh escaped Donni, quickly stifled by a wince as he clutched his side. “No, ~signoria~. That’s not happening. I’m not using you as bait.”

Donni turned to the telephone he’d retrieved from the dead man and dialled a number. With the phone to his ear, he angled himself away from her, inspecting the wound on his abdomen, trying to shield it from her view.

Elnora circled around him, her heart sinking at the sight of the deep, raw gashes. Blood soaked his shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin. The dried pool of blood where he had been lying earlier told her just how much he had already lost.

“That looks bad,” she murmured, and it worried her.

Gritting his teeth, Donni let the bloodied shirt fall back over the wound. “I’ll live,” he replied, but there was a note of uncertainty that twisted in her gut.

She didn’t believe him. The thought of Donni dying here, after everything didn’t sit well with her. Shaking her head slightly, she walked to the door, her heart pounding against her ribs. They weren’t the best of friends but… she didn’t want him dying on her.

“~Signoria~,” Donni called, hurrying after her despite the pain he was clearly in. Into the phone, he muttered, “Mateo, we need extraction. Talk to me.”

Elnora hesitated, her hand on the door handle. Slowly, she cracked it open and peeked out into the dimly lit corridor. Her breath caught in her throat when she locked eyes with the blonde man from earlier—the asshole looked like he was keeping watch while his friend tried to assault her. His eyes narrowed, and he started toward the door.

She slammed the door shut and turned back to Donni. “Someone’s coming,” she whispered urgently.

“Just a moment,” Donni said into the phone. He handed the phone to her and pulled her away from the door, positioning her in the centre of the room. After slipping the pistol into her hand, he took the knife and moved silently to stand behind the door.

The door swung open with a crash, and the blonde man barged in, his gaze immediately locking onto the dead body before flicking to the gun in Elnora’s trembling hands.

“You little bitch!” he snarled, his face contorting with rage.

“Oh?” Elnora scoffed, forcing herself to hold his gaze as she backed further into the room, luring him away from the door. “I think you’ve got that backwards. It’s what you call men who try to force themselves on helpless women, little bitch!”

He lunged at her with a guttural growl, and in that instant, Donni sprang from behind the door just as he intentionally slammed the door shut. The blonde man barely had time to react before Donni’s knife sliced through his throat in a swift, practiced motion.

Elnora’s eyes widened, her pulse hammering in her ears as she watched the man stagger, clutching his throat as blood gushed between his fingers. Donni didn’t hesitate, wrenching the gun from the man’s grasp and shoving him to the floor like a useless doll.

“Stay behind me,” Donni whispered, his voice hoarse as he took her hand and led her toward the door.

Elnora followed in stunned silence, her mind reeling as she glanced down at the phone in her hand. She nearly dropped it when she heard the voice on the other end.

“Mason?”