by August Red
Belle looks down. No matter what he demands, she will have to agree. She has to because she loves her family with all her heart. They are all she has in this world. Belle suppresses her tears and looks back up at Judas. Fate can certainly be cruel.
Considering his proposal, she replies, "How do I know that you'll hold up your end of the bargain—that I can trust your word? I’ve seen what you’re capable of now—”she picks up on the slight shift of his posture“—so what guarantee do I have that you’ll let me go when the time is up and not hurt my family in the meantime?"
“You’re alive because of me.”
“Spare me the hero bullshit,” she says, her anger rocking the level of her voice. “I'm not as naïve as you'd like to believe I am. I grew up a long time ago, Judas. You came to kill my father—my family! Turning it into some martyring act is just plain pathetic.” Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, her anger, she continues with a shaky breath, “S-So how can I trust you’ll keep your end of the deal?”
“You don’t have a choice.” He pushes up against the bars and approaches her. “You're all safe—because of me. And the only way you're gonna stay that way, is if you trust me."
“Trust isn't a light switch you turn on and off," she scoffs. "I'm not safe because of you, Judas! I'm in danger because I believed you! My life is at stake because I'm being held against my will by a killer. Do you think I bumped my head and plain forgot that? That I just woke up and forgot what you’ve done?"
He rubs the back of his shoulder. “You're alive… Things could’ve...” Shaking his head, his words trail off. But Belle doesn’t notice the cracks. Her head drops, defeated.
What can she do? It was only a little over three months, and no matter how miserable Judas made her life here, she'll still be free to leave in the end. And her family will be alive. It was a small price to pay to save her baby brother and her parents. Braving herself to look up at him, Belle clenches her jaw. He knows he’s already won.
“A deal is a deal, Belle. Your father should be dead. Your whole family would be if it wasn’t for me, but you’re still alive. If I wanted you all dead—trust me—you would be.” The corner of his lips tug. “I always get what I want… Know this."
Belle's mind twists and turns in a billion directions at once. “Just tell me exactly what you want from me then?”
“I want you to... I don’t know… satisfy any needs, I guess.” She gulps, cloaking her fear and listening to the evasive words play as he skitters the real issue.
One-hundred days versus never seeing her family again—that part doesn’t sound unfair, but it’s the ‘belonging to and obeying Judas’ that scares her out of her wits. And he knows it.
She’s had enough of this, of his vagueness. Her shoulders lift, her eyes narrow. It’s time to get to the point. “If you expect me to sleep with you, you’ve got another thing coming, Judas. The only way you’ll get me into your bed—is by force.”
There is no misreading the hurt in his eyes. “I’ve told you before… I’d never force you like that.” Belle thinks for a moment, and to her dismay, she finds herself fighting with her own heart.
She believes him.
She believes the man who’s torn her and her life to pieces.
But Judas is right. He’s never hurt her physically and as far as she’s aware, her father is still alive. She doesn’t know why he’s doing this, why he hasn’t killed them all yet, but the truth and fact remains—they are still alive because of Judas.
Hating you would be so much easier...
“Belle, women beg me to fuck them. I’ve never forced a woman into my bed and I’m not about to start now. You’ve got my word. I won’t hurt you.”
“Says the man who put a gun to my side.”
“You have no idea what I’ve done for you, what you’ve done to me,” he growls deep in his throat, finally showing her some emotion; almost showing her that he is human.
Almost.
“No. No I don’t, Judas. I thought I did. But clearly I don’t know anything.”
She has no idea what lengths Judas will reach to get what he wants. He’s already locked her in a cell. Will he keep her caged the entire time? What else is he going to do to torture her?
“Yes or no, Belle? I need an answer. Now.”
Belle closes her eyes against the surge of dread caused by the sound of his voice, searching herself for even the smallest shard of strength as she struggles to regain her composure. She trusts him about as far as she can throw him. Still, what choice does she have? Belle shudders at the thought of allowing him control over her, but she is trapped. There is no other way.
She meets his eyes and replies so that he can just barely hear her, "Fine. Done."
The rich sound of his satisfied breath is more than she can stomach. "I knew you’d submit."
He’s tormenting her like he wants to punish her for something... But why? Why any of this?
Where’s the man I held in my heart, gone? My hero... You, of all people... why did it have to be you...?
“Why are you doing this to me? I thought you—”
“Thought I what?”
His piercing stare dares her to continue and it’s so chilling, it forces her to close her eyes again. He’s ruined her, and she’s about ready to shatter. But Belle can’t allow him to see her break. She’s had years—a lifetime—to practice hiding her true feelings from others. As frightened as she is, her heart beating heavy with every beat... she dares.
She opens her eyes, fixing them on the object of all her dreams and nightmares, and in the firmest voice she can manage, she says with great authority, “Had a heart.”
He doesn’t say anything. This time there’s no witty comeback or threat. But she catches the small flutter of pain in his eyes. Maybe there is hope. Maybe, just maybe, she can bring back the Judas she came to admire.
She just has to reach him in time...
The thought is enough for something to alight inside her tummy. Enough to find the courage to place her hand gently onto his forearm and say, “I know this isn’t the real you. Deep down, somewhere, there’s a good person inside—”
“There’s no good in me,” he mutters, shaking her hand away. “I’m rotten to the core.”
“Yes there is,” she says, her cry desperate, “I’ve seen it. Just let me—”
“You really think you know me, don’t you?” She can tell he wants to end the conversation, stop talking, but he doesn’t. Something about the way Judas looks through her, almost like he’s looking over her—trying not to care, feel.
“I thought I did... once...”
“You have no idea who I am.”
“A killer.”
He tears his eyes away from hers, his profile hardening over his locked jaw. “I tried to warn you this is who I am,” he grits out. “This is my life, Belle. It’s all I know, all I've ever known. I won’t change. Not now. Not ever." His head rises, but doesn’t meet hers.
“In my attic..." She isn’t prepared for the blunt ice-blue centered on her then. “Was it all an act?"
“You know the truth. Does anything else matter?"
She takes a step forward. “It matters to me,” she says. “You said that to me once. Remember, Judas? Does that mean anything to you?"
He copies her movement, narrowing the distance between them. He doesn't look away, and from the way his eyes remain attached to her face, it appears he doesn’t plan to. She silently prays that he won’t prove to be the villain in her story.
“Was it an act, Judas?” Her voice begs for the truth to set her free from the pain.
“What was?” he hisses.
“You… in my attic... at the motel... the kiss... Did you use me?”
Judas stiffens and looks away. It unsettles Belle how up and down they are with one another. One second they’re hot in-your-face snarling, and the next, neither seems to gather up enough courage to even look at each other. And the kiss at the gas station hasn't helped to relieve
the tension.
She looks at his mouth, the small cut on the side of his bottom lip. If possible, it makes him look more menacing.
More deadly beautiful.
It sickens her that she can still be attracted to him.
Her stomach knots when his eyes darken. “Yeah... It was all a game, Belle. Women are just a plaything to me. And I played you.”
“Oh...” Her chest stings in agonizing heartbreak, and a sick sensation clenches her body.
He may have broken her there, but she isn’t defeated.
“I won’t make the same mistake,” she says, the fire in her eyes blazing through his. “I swear on my life, Judas, you will never touch me again. So whatever you’re planning from this time together, don’t think I’ll fall twice. Like I said—you’ll have to force me—”
“I won’t need to force you,” he hisses, turning his back to her. “Satisfied?”
“Never with you.”
"Belle, I assure you,” he says, more calmly, almost snickering. When he turns around to face her again, his smirk is enough to scare the hell out of her. “I won’t be forcing you into my bed.”
She conceals her fear with the firmest voice she can muster, “Good. I’d rather die than kiss you again, let alone—”
“You so sure?” He advances so quickly, that in a heartbeat, her back is against the wall. Brushing his hand down her right arm, he suddenly pins it up against the wall and looks down at her. His dark presence looms over her like a willow tree at dusk.
She hates him. She hates him with every breath she inhales. But she hates herself more for still being so utterly, and insanely, enchanted by him.
“Are you that positive,” he whispers into her ear, “that you don’t want me to…” He feathers his lips down to the nape of her neck, inhales her scent, like he’s marking her, and veers them back to her ear to whisper, “…touch you?"
It burns; his voice, his scent, his hot breath on her quaking flesh. Her eyes instinctively close; part in fear, and part in longing.
Belle swallows when she opens them again to find his eyes centered on her, waiting patiently for her answer.
“Y-Yes...”
“It’s not me who you should be worried about,” he says, whisper soft.
“Mr. Kulich?” Her head is spinning and she dares not move.
“If you listen to my orders, he won’t be a part of this.”
“Then, whom?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You.” His mouth curls cruelly and his eyes spark with something sinister, leaving her wounded in their wake. “You’ll be the one begging for me. In the end."
Judas Bane had set her heart free, once upon a time. But now, now he’s the one to lock her up in the darkness.
Belle feels what little strength she has leave her, only to be replaced by cold raw fear. Before Belle can even stifle the cold shiver that scorches her spine, Judas pulls away.
Sauntering out of the cell, he stops just long enough to glance over his shoulder. “Follow me,” he demands, before he merges into the shadows that lies beyond. Obeying his first command, stepping out of her prison, the mystery remains.
Why didn’t he carry out his orders and kill them all? And why has he locked her up for a hundred days to only then set her free?
There’s more to this. A lot more.
One hundred days. She has one hundred days. And nothing is going to stop her from unlocking the mystery of Judas.
Even if it leaves her undone, because...
...she isn’t so sure.
Chapter Twenty-One
“SHOULD WE ANWSER IT?” Luis asks, failing miserably to shield his nervous jitter.
It's life or death, no matter what course of action they take in this business. But the stakes are higher this time. Brutally so.
“Yeah, man, we gotta.” Tate looks back on the road. “It'll look bad if we don't."
“Shit.” Without waiting to convince himself to run away from it all, Luis presses the answer button and brings the phone to his ear. “Uh, yeah, Boss?"
“‘Yeah, Boss?’” Vladimir seethes. “I don't fuckin' hear from you in almost twenty-four fucking hours and that's what you fucking say to me?" Gulping, Luis opens his mouth a couple of times, begging his own brain to work, but mentally, his slate has been wiped clean. “Where the fuck are you guys? I send you on a major assignment so where's my fucking check-in?"
Luis grimaces, his fingers tightening on his smoke. “Sorry."
“Sorry? This isn't fucking Walmart. You clock-in late again you lose a finger, got it?"
“Yep, Boss. Loud and clear.” The breath releasing on the other end makes Luis's muscles loosen a little from their tight grip.
“Did you get it done?"
“D-Done, sir?” Luis's voice breaks.
Vladimir stays quiet for a few seconds before he spits out through gritted teeth, “Have. The. Dela Cruzes. Been eliminated like I ordered?"
A lead-ball of nerves drops and rolls through his stomach. Judas is going to kill him if he messes this up. He tries without success to subside the rattle in his voice when he answers Vladimir, “Y-Yes, sir. It's done."
“Good, good.” Vladimir sounds like a different person; happy, light, everything contradicting the monster Luis had just been speaking with. “Judas’ not picking up. I know he likes to take time away after an assignment but I need him to check in with me. Call him, tell him I'm looking for him." The line goes dead and all of Luis's insides jolt in nausea.
Judas is really going to fuck him up, but at least the worst is over.
Step one, complete.
Tate jams the keys in his pocket. “The car will be here soon,” he says, flicking the stale gum on the side of the road with his tongue. “Remember your story. Stick to it and don't get creative, all right?"
Luis's head is down. The shiny black tip of his boot nudges the uprooted grass. “Yeah, got it."
“It's gonna work out, man. Just gotta stick to what Judas says and it'll all work out."
Luis nods, inhaling deeply. “Yeah, know that. But this is… this is big, man. We get caught, we're fucking dead. Fuck, man! We're going against the man who pays us, the man who holds our lives in his fucking hands—”
“You owe Judas, Luis. Judas. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for him. He took you in. Christ, I owe him my fucking life at least three times over and so does your bald ass. And you wanna be the one who kills a fucking baby? Christ's sakes, I've done some bad shit in my time but that shit ain't right.” Tate shakes his head, his eyes squinting as though he tasted something bitter in his mouth.
“I know, okay, I know. It’s why I agreed to help with this fucking suicide mission in the first place. I just...” He shrugs, backing away and letting his blue worried eyes skim the highway. “There's a lot at stake here, man."
“There usually is when you're trying to do the right thing."
“Yeah...” Luis blows out a long breath.
“Yeah...” Tate scratches his beard, glances back at the blue minivan. “Right, I'm gonna jet. Should be in Falconlake by tonight if I floor it. See you in a few weeks if everything goes to plan." When Luis just stares blankly back, Tate takes a dominating step forward. “Okay?" he grunts.
“Yeah, man—okay,” Luis snaps. “Easy, yeah.” He tries a second time to cover his apprehension but fails. “I got it, man."
“Try not to shit your pants while I'm gone, yeah?” With a short pat to Luis’ shoulder, Tate turns toward the van.
“Yeah, if I haven’t already.”
The gritty part of the plan has been completed. Now all that is left is keeping Vladimir in the dark until the cops’ suspicions subside and his boss’s attention is averted elsewhere.
Luis hears the minivan’s engine growl, moan in protest, then gun to life. The sound is overwhelming at first, then it fades off like the sound of a train in the distance. He pulls out his phone, holding it securely between his thick clumsy fingers.
Luis’ head is on the fucking block because of some hot chick that helped out Judas.
For some reason, standing on the grass waiting for Judas’ men to come and get him, up to his ears in hindsight, the principle of the matter doesn’t seem to be worth it, after all.
SPEECHLESS.
Belle feels so out of her depth, like she’s fallen down the rabbit hole and has entered Wonderland.
Judas leads her down a dark stone passage that opens out into a great hall. Her boots click against the marble flooring and she looks up, way up, toward the never-ending ceiling. She can’t believe what her eyes are witnessing.
It’s a mansion that makes millionaires look poor.
Is this one of Mr. Kulich’s Russian crime-lord lairs?
Following Judas up an endless spiraling marble staircase, her back and shoulders ache, and she is sure she will collapse from exhaustion. When they finally reach the top, he leads Belle down a dimly lit corridor to the left, until they reach a large ornately-carved wooden door.
Judas grins, and after a moment of silence, she grows uneasy. God, he infuriates her. He’s biding his time so he can watch her squirm. That will be just like him to draw out her misery before he reveals whatever awful plan he has in store. Squaring her shoulders, she looks up at him. She won’t give him the satisfaction; instead, she’ll smack that arrogance right off his face.
“Aren’t you going to open it, then?”
“Good to see you so eager,” he says, wolfishly.
“Just get this over with,” she hisses back, shaking her head.
Opening the door, the side of his mouth curves up. “Your room for the next hundred days.”
Belle tries to ignore the panicked voice in her head that warns her to stay put. Endless possibilities of what he’ll demand from her, flood her mind. It takes all of her nerve to make her legs move as she shuffles inside.