"Why did they disappoint you? They were victims."
"They were stupid!" Ruby paused to cough, covering her mouth with her hand and thanking me when I poured a glass of water and handed it to her. "They should never have left their home that night. They knew the dangers and they thought they were too mighty to suffer the merciless evil of the underground. You are a disappointment because I've laid everything out for you. I gave you the normal childhood your father wanted for you. I gave you the normal adulthood he would have wanted to progress to. I brought you here because I thought you were ready to embrace who you are...but I was wrong. I've never been wrong, Trixie Ashford." Ruby looked at me and pointed to the sheets of paper scattered on the table. "Look at them."
I did, picking each of them up one by one and scanning the fine pencil lines, the shaded shadows and interpretation Trixie had of me the night we met. They all looked like me, but each one was different, and I finally crashed back down to Earth when I looked at the last image, of me covered in blood, a lust in my eyes that begged for more deviance.
"This is me," I said, slamming it down on the desk and sliding it towards her.
"I love him, Grandma," Trixie said, hoping her announcement would save her from a fate Ruby had already decided for her. "I love him so much. I love you, I love Trace and Richard and Mae. Isn't that enough?"
"Isabel loved her children and she was killed. Elizabeth loved Clarence and she was stolen from him to serve a king who deserved nothing more than to live in squalor. I love my children and my grandchildren, and every Ashford-Blackwood I have been raised to honour. But love is not enough."
I watched Trixie's heart break as she realised the only weapon she had—compassion and empathy and love—would not be enough here. I'd told her as much. There was no place for love inside the barricades of GRIT.
"Sometimes love is a curse. Sometimes it is a weapon. Sometimes it is a disease that eats you alive and drowns you in your own selfishness until you've lost everything you once regarded as important. Love is not enough here. If you refuse to stand with Elias, I'll be forced to take that as your betrayal and you will suffer the consequences for your disobedience."
Trixie opened her mouth, tears and snot trickling over her top lip as she stuttered on a decision.
"I love her,” I said, clawing at a final attempt to keep my humanity intact. “I love her, too.”
“I love her, too…”
Elias Blackwood’s voice rang in the air, and I knew he was desperate to hold onto the Elias I loved the most. I knew he was trying to save me, and I forced a smile as the whites of his eyes reddened and his eyelids covered them to conceal his emotions.
“Elias?” Ruby took a step towards him and reached up to place her hand on his shoulder. “Elias, is that true?”
He nodded, keeping his head bowed as if love was something to be ashamed of.
“That changes things,” she whispered, glancing between me and her eldest grandson. “Trixie, you love him? Truly?”
“I do,” I said with a nod. “I know I’m supposed to be Tallulah and I’m supposed to break his heart, but I can't bear to see him in pain.”
“I’ll do it, Grandma,” Elias said, opening his eyes and seeking hers out. He placed his hand on her shoulder and they held onto each other. “I’ll break her.”
Ruby nodded and smiled, her head whipping between Elias and me as sadness coated her vision.
“Break me?” I stuttered.
My bottom lip trembled and I couldn’t breathe as the black cloud began sliding across my vision to threaten me with downfall. It was too much; the intensity of the past week, the fear of the future, confusion over the past, humiliation that I loved Elias, but it wouldn’t be enough to save me.
“Break you.” Elias stepped out from his chair to stand behind mine. His hand gripped my hair and he pulled my head back. “We will stand together, Trixie. I will force you to be my queen before I allow your death.”
“I can't. You can't. Please…”
Ruby’s hands cupped my cheeks and she pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. I closed my eyes, desperately wanting to seek comfort from her touch, but unable to forget what had already happened here, and all the things that threatened to continue when Elias broke me.
“We are not bad people, Trixie. We are good people who do questionable things for the right reasons. You are the only woman who has the power to rule this family, but your conscience and your compassion will be your downfall.” She kissed me again and finally, I deflated, sagging against Elias’ chest and nuzzling into my grandmother’s hold. “Elias will teach you to be queen. You will go through the same process as every one of your cousins and, finally, you will be their equal. It is the women who protect and fight for this family, Trixie. It’s about time you took your place on the throne.”
She was nuts. They were all fucking mental. I didn’t want to be a part of this, whether I understood their reasons or not—whether I’d seen the evil and believed it warranted punishment, or if I believed there was hope for us.
“Take her away.”
Handcuffs slid around my wrists before I had a chance to break free and I looked down to see my brother kneeling in front of me to cuff my ankles too. He paused when he looked at the marks already there, but he said nothing.
“It’ll be okay, Trixie,” he whispered. “I promise.”
A black sack was slipped over my head and my vision failed me. I felt claustrophobic, unable to breathe and I panicked when I tried to draw deep breaths, but all I could do was wheeze on little pants until my eyes closed and my legs gave way.
The cold wall hurt my back, the wet floor soaked into my legs until they felt numb, and I couldn’t feel my arms as a sharp burn shot across my shoulders, unable to branch out because my nerves had given up. My chin was on my chest, my hair hanging loosely around my shoulders, and my heels scraped against the stone as I tried languidly to wriggle free.
“It’s no good,” came the voice of the man I had once promised to love. Now I felt nothing but hatred. “You won't win.”
“Shut up,” I hissed, my throat dry and scratchy from dehydration, and, judging by the clink of the chains above my head, I shook my hands too. But I couldn’t feel it. How long could a person suffer loss of sensation before they lost all hope of it ever returning?
“As you wish, Ashford.”
The chair creaked as Elias sat back, but I couldn’t see him. I fought to open my eyes but they itched and were covered by a rag that smelled of mould and kept me blinded.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you change? How can you tell me you love me, and then bring me here? Where am I?”
“Home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Wherever I am.”
“You got me back to the estate before I woke up. Did you drug me? Knock me out? How long have I been here?”
“I didn’t drug you, or knock you out. You’ve been here for three days.”
“Three days.”
Elias cleared his throat. “When a person suffers a trauma, they go into self-preservation mode until they have the mental strength to cope with the situation. You’ve been conscious and talking—fighting—for three days, but you can't remember it because you weren’t strong enough to face reality.”
“So I had a breakdown. I had a fucking breakdown and you’ve kept me chained up here in the dungeon with murderers and psychopaths.”
“They can't touch you.”
“But you can.”
“I haven’t.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Three days.”
I shook my head and pulled on the restraints again. I wouldn’t give up fighting. The tension threatened to smother me; things had changed so quickly. One minute Elias had let me touch the man who used multiple personalities to desensitise himself to circumstances that would usually cripple. And the next…I was a prisoner. Like a criminal.
“So why am
I here?”
“She would have killed you.” His chair scraped the floor as he stood, his shoes clicking on the floor. My head followed the sound as he paced back and forth in front of me. “Not because she’s a bad person, or because she’s evil, or because she doesn’t love you beyond all this. But because we protect GRIT no matter the price, including human life.”
“You know it’s bullshit.”
A sharp stab struck my face and toppled me sideways as the back of Elias’ hand connected with me. I forced myself to sit upright and refused to let him see me cry.
“Watch your language, Ashford.”
“You have more loyalty to people from six hundred years ago than you do to the people here and now. The people who could make your lives matter. You’ve chosen ghosts over me, and I’ll never forgive you for that.”
“You don’t have to. You just have to comply. You have to work with me and protect this family.”
“I won't do that.”
“That is why you are here.”
I was curled up on the floor with my hands and feet bound. I could see this time, but I couldn’t speak. My mouth was taped shut. Punishment for arguing with Elias.
“I want to let you out. There are ways to do this, Trixie.”
I rolled my eyes shut, refusing to look at him as he walked towards me and leaned over my body. He hadn’t broken me, but he’d ruined me. I was filthy, covered in dust and dirt and rusty water; I was naked beneath a black sack that had been preserved from Tudor times. My hair was matted with grease and knotted behind my back, tangled in the strings of the canvas sack Elias had dressed me in.
I shook my head and kept my eyes closed. I didn’t care to listen to whatever he had to say.
“If you’d just talk to me, we can find a way. I can't trust you to listen to me and not tell.”
I mumbled something beyond the gag. I didn’t know what I’d tried to say, but I imagined it would have earned me another backhand.
I squealed and arched my back as cold water landed on me and filled the concave patch in the corner I’d chosen to lie in. The water pooled around me and it would have been so easy to turn my head and end this.
Elias climbed over me, settling his knees either side of me and rolling me onto my back. I fought against him but my hands were fixed behind my back and my legs were bound.
“This is killing me. I don’t want to do this.”
I shook my head and thrashed as much as my tired body would allow.
“Baby, please.”
The tears leaked out and I cursed my heart for feeling so much. Elias was back—the one he’d been on the last morning we’d had together consensually. I hadn’t looked at him since that night and my memory of him was beginning to fade with my resolve.
Gentle hands peeled off the tape and soft lips met mine to soothe the burn. I gave in for a second, comforted by the warmth his kisses gave me, but then I returned to reality and bit down, cutting into his lip and drawing blood with a smile. Elias growled and pulled back, but he didn’t hit me. He pressed his forehead to mine and kissed the tip of my nose.
“Do you feel it?” he asked. “The conflicting arousal that comes with the urge to kill.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. I did.
“That’s why you’re still here. I need you to embrace that feeling because that is what will bring you back to me.”
He kissed me again, swiping his lips across mine and smearing them with his blood.
“I want to get you out, Trixie.”
“How?” I rasped, unable to recognise my own voice.
“I have a plan, but I need you to come back to me. I need you to prove you can do this with me.”
“I don’t want to. That hasn’t changed since you dragged me here.”
“I have to do it this way.”
“You’re evil.”
“I am.”
“I hate you.”
“You should.”
“But I love you.”
“I know.”
He kissed me again, rough hands gripping my hips and this time I didn’t fight. I let him kiss me, and hold me, and grab my ass as he pulled me closer. I sighed; I ached to touch him and scratch him. Our tongues danced as we shared the coppery tinge of his blood; my legs wriggled with the urge to clamp around him; my heart hammered with the effort not to break when I thought about all the things we’d never have. Elias pulled back and wiped my mouth. I heard him suck his thumb into his mouth and I finally opened my eyes to look at him.
His black eyes still glittered with evil, but the blue hue that lingered just beneath the surface called for me to trust him.
“I love you, too.”
I stared at him, committing him to memory. He was dirty too; he’d as good as grown a beard in the week since he brought me here. He was wearing casual workout clothes and he looked far from composed. His hair was too long, his eyes were rimmed with rings of stress and regret, and the vein in his neck pumped with wild arousal.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
Elias stood up, leaving me on my back on the floor and crossed the cell to the door. When he opened it and leaned outside, I heard hushed voices, none of them familiar.
“I want you to take your revenge,” he said, as two men dragged another in on his knees and threw him to the floor. “This is the man who killed your parents and I want you to kill him.”
I don't know how long I'd been here now. Day turned into night, which turned into day, and then darkness fell again. I had no idea what I was still doing here, how I was ever going to get out, and if I'd ever see my Elias again.
No, that's a lie. I knew why I was here. Every day was the same. Elias would visit me between his hours at the bank and his evenings tracking down criminals. While he was here he'd order Tony and Jack to bring in the man who murdered my parents. Elias let him beg for his life, which he refused to do, and so I refused to kill him. I had my reasoning cemented. I'd told Elias I wouldn't kill him until he told me why he'd chosen to kill my parents, and what their final words were—if they’d had any. He wouldn't talk, so I wouldn't kill. It kept me alive and safe, my hands clean for another day every time he refused to even look at me, cackling and gargling on his own blood instead.
"Good evening, Ashford," Elias said when he entered my cell and Tony followed him in with a tray of food.
I was permitted to shower now, but Lola always accompanied me and she wasn't allowed to talk, or follow any instruction. She stood outside while I cleaned myself and she handed me back to Elias who took me back to my cell. He hadn't touched me since our last morning—our only morning—in bed together, and I craved his touch like the crack addict in the cell next to me who cried out for a fix until the early hours of the morning.
This was my life now. I had no concept of time, I had no freedom and all I had left was the hope that another day would end without me being a murderer.
Elias set out our dinner and crossed the room to slide his hands under my arms and pull me to my feet. Taking my hand, he led me to the table he'd had put in here however many days ago, and silently ordered me to sit. I did as I was told, staring into his black eyes to see who would be dining with me tonight.
"How was your day?" I asked, picking up my knife and fork and cutting into the chicken breast.
"Are you ready to follow your orders yet?"
I sighed and shook my head, not in answer—although that would be my answer—but because I was disappointed I'd be eating with a monster.
"No, I'm not. I'm not going to kill him."
Elias had him brought in anyway, and he was thrown in the corner. I glanced at him as he looked up at me, and I filled my mouth with food. I was desensitised to it now; the sight of blood no longer turned my stomach, the stench of the filthy prisoner no longer burned my nostrils, and knowing he killed my mother and father no longer made me want to howl in agony.
"He's looking bloody today," I said with shrug, trying to show Elias he wasn't going to win.
"He took a beating after lunch."
"How long am I going to be here? What happens when you realise I won't kill him?"
"You'll stay here until you do. There's no other option."
"And my Elias won't return?"
"No. There is no your Elias. This is your task, Trixie. You will remain a prisoner for as long as you continue to rebel."
"I'm not rebelling. I'm just not going to kill him. I want to know why he did it."
Our company laughed and Elias stopped eating, turning sideways but not looking at the murderer. The other murderer. I watched as he stood up, carrying his knife over to the man in the corner. He crouched in front of him, and gripped the back of his neck. When he pressed the knife to his collar bone and dragged downwards, cutting his chest, I winced.
"It's rude to laugh while others are eating. Shut your mouth."
The man hissed and threw his head back, his laughter silenced—for now. I knew it wouldn't be long before he switched the pain off.
"See that?" Elias said, returning to the table. He wiped the knife on his napkin and continued eating with it. "He's been held captive for twenty years, and yet he still feels no remorse for what he did. Do you think that's a man who deserves to live, Ashford?"
"No," I answered quickly. "I don't dispute that he deserves to die. I just refuse to do it."
"So it's okay for others to kill for you, but you won't get your hands dirty? That's a little selfish, don't you think?"
"I don't care what you think."
Elias (GRIT Sector 1) Page 31