by Hayley Smyth
I hated myself.
The whole thing had me raging, my finger twitching against the trigger of the semi-automatic gun I’d been given for patrols.
Benny and I had each been shown to our rooms by Marco. Something irked me about him, the smug, self-satisfied grin on his face didn’t help.
And when he spoke to me, fuck, I’d wanted to punch his teeth down his throat.
He pushed open the door, revealing where I’d be sleeping and spending time when off duty.
I went to ask him something, a question that eludes me now, but he cut me off.
“Let’s get one thing straight here, Murdoch.” He growled in my ear.
My face pulled in on itself, shocked at the audacity of this fucker. I kept quiet, though, sometimes you just needed to let morons have their say.
“You stay the fuck away from Ella. Do you hear me? Vlad may think you lot have suddenly become trustworthy, but I see through all of it.”
My eyebrows bunched together, my head turning to meet his hateful glare. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked. “Who the fuck even are you?”
His grin was lopsided. “I’m someone Vladimir has come to respect in recent times. Hear what I’m saying, though,” his fucking hand rested on my back, and each instinct in me told me to knock ten tonnes of shit from this jumped up prick. “Stay the fuck away. Keep your head down and be a good little guard, huh? And we’ll have no problems.”
Humoring him, and nothing else, I bared my teeth, unable to smile. “Sure thing, buddy. I heard you loud and clear.”
He nodded and then stalked off down the hallway, a swagger in his step I wanted to rid him off. Prick.
Ella.
Marnie looked grim. Even she knew that after my performance earlier, it’d be a matter of time until Vladimir came to punish me for embarrassing him so.
Her slender fingers twisted together, her brown hair shielding her face. I felt sick to my stomach.
Once the Murdoch had left, I’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. Seeing Marco again, being so unprepared, had ripped any strength I had left away from me.
Seeing his smile, coming to in his arms. It had been a waking nightmare, and the devastation he caused was still as fresh as the night he betrayed me. I’d thought I’d put it all behind me, but seeing him again, looking happy and smug, tore me in two.
And then Jax had carried me to bed.
“So what did you say to him, babe? Word for word, tell me.”
I pulled my knees to my chest and wracked my brain, searching for the brief conversation I’d had with Jaxon Murdoch. “I can’t remember, Marn. What’s Marco doing here?” My voice was shrill, exposing every fear I had.
Her mouth set into a thin, straight line. “Ella, are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you? I know you said he ran to Vlad, spouting a load of bullshit, but the way you reacted when you saw him earlier…” From out in the hallway, there were slams of doors and Vlad’s unmistakable voice.
I cried, tears falling down my face, and in my chest, I could feel every unsteady thump of my heart.
“Shit. I have to go, babe. You’ll be okay?”
No. “Yes, go. Don’t need you getting in trouble as well.”
Marnie hurried across the room, placing a kiss on my temple, and as she opened the door, Vladimir appeared, strung out on cocaine, his blood replaced by alcohol.
He yanked Marnie’s arm, and she went stumbling into the hallway, the last I saw of her was her feet running for safety, and then I was alone with the monster.
Closing the door, he didn’t say a word, and set about undressing, stripping from his suit, which I knew he hated wearing.
My body remained frozen to its spot on my bed, shaking knees knocking together, teeth chattering as though I was cold.
My eyes followed him around the room, watching as he sat to remove his socks and shoes.
The silence was unbearable. “Vladimir…say something.”
In nothing but his boxers, my husband leaned back in the chair, crossing a leg over his knee, his black eyes regarded me, stretching the silence some more. “What’s there to say, sweet wife?”
I swiped the tears from my cheeks and inhaled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what ca-”
“Came over you?” He interrupted, leaning forward.
I trembled below the sheets, debating whether I preferred his dark quietness to his violence. “Seeing him…” I sniffed. “After what he did…”
Standing to his full five foot ten inches, he stalked towards the other side of the bed. “And what did he do, Ella? Other than expose you for the lying, filthy fucking whore you are.”
Coming to a stop beside me, he grabbed the sheets and ripped them from me.
I cried. “I’m not a liar, Vladimir. You only have to look at the CCTV to see.”
Laughing, he got into bed and lay with his back towards me, before reaching over and switching the lamp off. “Go to sleep, Ella. I’m not going to indulge your delusions any farther.”
In the darkness, confusion washed over me. Pulling the sheet back, I tucked him in and sat with my head against the headboard, the tears flowing for what felt like hours.
Vladimir knew the truth, of this I was sure. The cameras never slept, and Vlad always watched the footage once the men had transferred it on to a USB stick. There was no way he hadn’t saw Marco that night.
Why was he allowing it? He’d killed men for less before.
Maybe I was that worthless after all. Not deserving of protection anymore. I’d failed when I gave birth to a daughter, and once she had been taken from me, he had changed, hated me even more. Why didn’t he just kill me?
Being kept alive was the worse kind of torture.
Jax
That first night, sleep eluded me. My body and mind were restless and after lying in a strange bed for over an hour, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Red hair and blue eyes were engraved in my memory.
Marco’s parting words were replaying over and over; after a while, I was sick to the back teeth of listening to my thoughts. I needed a smoke and some fresh air.
It was a little after three a.m, and The Mansion was like a ghost house. Everyone was sleeping, and traipsing through the empty hallways in my boxers, cigarettes in hand, I felt well and truly not at home.
It was taking some getting used to, knowing what room was where what door you could go in, and so, I headed for the patio, I say patio but it was fucking enormous, sporting a pool, bar, and lots of room for lots of people, knowing it was relatively safe for me to go there.
Pushing open the sliding glass doors, I inhaled the fresh night air. It was fucking eerie out here during the wee hours of the night, nothing but grass, trees, and walls as far as the eye could see. The insects chirped, bringing, to the outside world, the only noise. Vlad’s mansion was miles from any other person; there were no vehicles driving past, no nosy fucking neighbors to spy on him. The cops knew, of course, but when you're a man as powerful as Vladimir Chrobak, the police tended to leave you alone, turn the other cheek to what went on, in exchange for a pretty penny.
Sticking a cigarette between my lips, I sparked up, and a noise much different to the calls of the cicadas pierced through.
Frowning, I blew smoke into the air and squinted my eyes to where I heard the noise coming from, the building on the right jutted in and then poked out again, creating a kind of alcove, and as I stepped forward, I knew that it wasn’t a wild coyote making the noise. But a woman.
The cigarette worked its sweet magic as I neared the small alcove. The sniffling got louder, and although I’d only heard her once before, I knew who it was.
Her pretty little mouth hung open as she saw me. Her body was shrouded in the darkness, in the shadows, her knees pulled to her chest, and she was crying, glimmering patches smothered her cheeks.
She wore a tiny pair of pajama shorts and a tank, and a look of utter grief etched her features, even I could see it in the dark. The
wounds to her face were still healing, looking as angry as all hell.
I suddenly remembered how her skin felt against mine, and I dashed those thoughts to the New Mexican wind; not now, Murdoch.
“Hey, bird,” I said, leaning against the wall, puffing on the cigarette. “What you doing out here this time of night?”
Sniffling, she hugged her knees closer, wild blue eyes looking at the floor. “Couldn’t sleep. It’s been a weird day.”
Flicking my cigarette to the floor, I let it burn away before sinking to the floor beside her, copying her position.
From the corner of my eye, I saw her body stiffen. “Relax, bird. I don’t bite,” I smiled, but she did not find it funny.
“Mr. Murdoch, I’d appreciate it if you left me be. I’m tired and, forgive me, but I can’t find it in me to make small talk.” She was stern, yet I heard the vulnerability in each syllable, her sweet mouth said. It was obvious she didn’t ever assert herself, it was in the way she held herself, kept her head lowered.
I knew this, and I’d only been here a day.
Smiling, I nudged her arm. “So, let’s make big talk.”
Curiosity got the better of her, and her blues met mine for a brief second. “What does that mean?”
“We’ll cut the shit, bird. I’m not keen on making pleasantries either. I’d much rather get to the gritty stuff.”
Her mouth hung open again. “Erm, you’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Murdo-”
“Jax, please.”
She shook her head, red hair brushed my shoulders, and the scent of roses invaded my nostrils. “I couldn’t possibly call you that, sir. You are mine and my husband’s employee; he’d see it as bad form.”
Scoffing, I rolled my eyes. “And beating his wife isn’t bad form?”
Had I just fucking said that? By the look on her face, I had. Nice one, Murdoch.
“You’ll be wise to keep such thoughts to yourself, that’s if you want to live, of course.”
Smoothing down a dress she wasn’t wearing, I watched as this fragile bird got to her feet, legs trembling like a new-born calf. She was going to leave without saying another word, and I acted before I thought.
Reaching out, I wrapped my hand around her tiny wrist, hard enough to surprise her but not hard enough to hurt.
A small gasp escaped her lips, and under the pale moonlight, I saw the flush appear over her beautiful cheekbones.
She looked down at me, still on the floor, and then at our joining skin. “What are you doing?”
“How did you end up here, bird? It’s unfathomable how someone as goddamn pure as you could end up here.” I rubbed my thumb over the underside of her wrist, feeling her inconsistent pulse.
“Please, please leave me alone. You’ll get me killed.”
Sighing, I released her. “You don’t belong here, bird.” With her back to me, I saw her shoulders begin to shake, her tears falling again.
“Maybe I do. After all, Mr. Murdoch, you don’t know the first thing about me.” With quick steps, Ella Chrobak vanished into the night, leaving me surrounded by her smell, and raging at Vladimir.
Chapter Eleven
Jax
My second, third, and fourth day at Purgatory had gone by too fucking slow. The work was mind-numbing, watching Ella walk around the place in her tiny summer dresses was torture, and I was getting nowhere fast regarding Amy’s death. The place was locked down tight, that was for sure. Jozef had given me a key card, allowing me access to other parts of The Mansion.
My father had rung, it would be another week or so until the guys had managed to pull any information from Amy’s phone. Carter hadn’t spoken to me yet, still going through the motions of losing his woman and kid.
That was okay. Time. He just needed time.
Nothing had been said about Amy’s funeral yet, and that was beginning to set my goddamn nerves on edge. Her body had been taken away by them, stripped and stuck under a microscope by a fucking Chrobak, and that wasn’t right. That, I decided, is what had given me ideas that somehow, they were involved in her death.
I just didn’t know why. Couldn’t understand any of it.
The fifth day had passed the same as the others. However, come evening, I’d been stuck inside a tiny room for the best part of an hour, watching as my boss became drunker, doped up on whatever pills he liked to pop; I had prayed for someone to attack, set a bomb off, storm the fucking castle, just to give me something to do.
I got my damn wish.
Movement on one of the many monitors caught my attention, and I leaned forward to study the image. Vlad’s stuff was high tech, the picture crystal clear. Vladimir was pissed. No, he was furious.
Ella flew into camera's beady eye, falling to the floor, her body scrambling into a ball as she pressed herself against the wall. What the fuck?
I watched, barely able to breathe as I saw the terror, in high definition black and white, as her husband stood over her, shouting at her as though she were a disobedient fighting dog. His stomach bulged from his open shirt, and he held something. Something long and thick.
My eyebrows pulled together, beads of sweat formed on my forehead when I realized what his choice of weapon was. A goddamn belt. In one swift movement, a movement so quick I knew she hadn’t seen it coming, Chrobak raised his arm and brought the leather down across her chest.
I stood, gripping the arms of the office chair, and yelled, “You fucking pig!”
Ella clenched her chest, slumping sideways as a dark liquid oozed between her fingers. That didn’t deter her husband, it only seemed to spur the cunt on.
Raising the belt again, Ella moved towards the side of her bed. Vlad was yelling. I could see Ella’s tears as clear as day. They streamed down her face in fat drops, her hands waved in front of her face, and blood smothered her palms, her dress. I was white-knuckling the leather now, my fingernails almost snapping.
Moments later, Vladimir was pulling Ella by the crook of her arm, her legs stumbled under her, and then they were gone. Out of view.
Veins were popping from my neck, painful, and fit to burst. I wanted nothing more than to storm down there and open fire at this sadistic fuck. However, I didn’t. I couldn’t. How would I do that and live to see another day? I knew he wasn’t a nice guy. The countless girls who were sold under his and his family’s legacy told me that, but seeing someone’s cruelty first hand always helped reiterate the truths you knew, made them stronger, truer, real.
My skin was burning and yet frozen at the same time, I sunk back into my chair, unable to take my eyes away from the screens.
Jozef had crawled into bed with the brunette, his hips angled towards her, his body shaking as he jerked off beside her sleeping body.
I was beginning to feel like a voyeur, watching people as they slept, jerked off, and beat women. I needed some fresh air and a smoke.
Checking my watch, I realized I still needed to spend a while longer trapped. Vladimir had left me several logbooks in which I needed to write down anything untoward, anything that may be deemed a threat against him. The place was a maze, the walls outside impenetrable.
Sighing, cracking my neck to relieve ever-building pressure, I opened the first folder and got to work. It wasn’t long until the movement on-screen had me looking up once more. Ella’s limping body stumbled down the hallway, her arms wrapped around her hurting, bloodied body. A strange sensation encompassed me, something more than rage, mixed with erratic heartbeats and the urge to go to her.
Scribbling down notes I hoped would suffice, I shoved the folders into a drawer, collected my things, and went in search of my poor, broken bird.
My? Holy shit, Murdoch.
Ella
The pain seared through me, the way a sharp knife does a piece of steak. Each trembling step I took sent wave after crippling wave of fresh pain across my flesh. Even my bones hurt; Vladimir had murder in his eyes tonight, if it hadn’t have been for the copious amounts of alcohol alongside the cocaine, I’m sure he
would have succeeded.
My mind was fuzzy, reminding me of the television my Mama had. The thing had never worked, yet she’d sit there for hours, dull eyes enraptured by the crackling of the static. That’s how my brain felt. Crackly. As though my skull had broken and loose pieces of bone were rattling around inside. The blood was dry now. It had turned into, almost, a kind of crust, and it pinched at the tiny hairs on my arms as I lurched along the hallway in a very zombie-esque way.
Usually, I’d go to Marnie, failing to find her I’d seek out Edith, but tonight, there was no one, it far too late to disturb anyone and risk another beating. There was only one place that seemed perfect to comfort me. My alcove. A spot that had been overlooked when the cameras were placed. It didn’t provide much space to have secret meetings or the like; it was simply a corner where I could lick my wounds.
The stairs almost beat me. The creaks of the floorboard under my heavy, uneven weight had me stopping every second, hoping to God that no-one had heard.
After using all the energy I had left, I made it to the bottom, shuffling once more through the empty rooms, one destination in mind, the only thing that kept me upright.
The air rushed into my lungs as I stepped outside. With an open mouth, I inhaled, then exhaled, wiggling my toes against the cold, concrete floor, my body desperate to feel something other than mind-numbing agony.
The insects were chirping, the moon was high, and my alcove was just a few stumbles away.
It happened within seconds. One moment, my feet were doing what they were supposed to, the pain was spurring me on, my survival instinct urging me to keep upright until I could collapse in a heap. The next, my eyes stopped working. A fresh blast of ripping pain tore through me, the blood oozed once more from my chest, leaving me with a weird, indescribable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was falling. Not towards the ground, oh no, but towards the pool. No matter how hard I fought against my limbs, they refused to cooperate.
Headfirst, I felt the harsh blow of water, the oxygen knocked from my lungs, and the darkness took me once more.