Heretic: The Clans Book Ten

by Knox, Elizabeth

  At first, considering this has to do with the Clans, I assumed it was one of those pretentious knockoffs. Thousands upon thousands of dollars just to look like something that already existed a long time ago. But now that I have been here for so many hours with nothing to do but study it, I realize that it’s the real deal, just either well-preserved or restored. It must be an heirloom of some kind.

  I should be thankful that no one’s been in here. I mean, they would see me using the toilet, and possibly even be watching me sleep. I mean, for fuck’s sake, Luca was right here next to me his hands all over me when I woke up out of the stupid that I had been in.

  Part of me was suspicious at first he had done something awful to me in my sleep, but there was no sign of that when I finally came all the way to. But it’s not like I’m not thankful for that. I’m thankful for very little other than the few water bottles that were packed in here for me. So, I have at least had water to drink. Though, I have now gone through all of them even with rationing. It doesn’t help that I have still been throwing up off and on no matter how much I try to quell the nausea. Can one be allergic to chloroform? Or is this just a typical reaction?

  It’s not like I’d fucking know. I don’t go around chloroforming people. Though, I guess I do go around stabbing people in the eye now.

  Still in my wedding dress, I begin to pace back and forth. I’ve tried many things; sleeping, remain still, telling myself stories and songs. Nothing is really helping. I just want to know why I’m in a cage and what I need to do to get out of here. I don’t think there’s anything worse for a woman like me other than being locked up like this. Like I would take death at this point, but there’s unfortunately nothing in this cage to hurt myself with. I don’t think plastic water bottles will really do it.

  Suddenly, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and I get to the back of the cage. I don’t know if it’s going to be Luca or somebody else. I don’t know what to fucking expect at all. I haven’t exactly ever been locked in somebody’s basement in a cage before. No less, a cage with a bed.

  A cage inside my husband’s house.

  What the fuck crazy soap opera did I just step into?

  I find myself looking at a man whose age I cannot place. He’s in a suit, but something not as nice as Luca would ever wear. It looks like perhaps he’s the butler. Or something of the sort. Did the Clans have butlers? I don’t even know.

  He has curly hair, and the color of his skin tells me that he is probably some kind of Hispanic, and not just Spanish. And when he opens his mouth, that is confirmed by his accent.

  “Hello, Elena.” He goes right to the cage door and places his hands behind his back as he says my name. And the fact he knows my name, is probably a good sign that he has something to do with Luca. I mean, I’ve never seen this guy in my life.

  “My name is Migual.” He continues since I haven’t said a word to him yet.

  I hate the fact that I’m cowering in his presence, but I don’t know this guy from Adam. There’s no way for me to know what kind of crazy things he’s going to do to me, and the fact that I haven’t even eaten in 48 hours and I’m a prisoner tells me that anything could happen.

  “I know you must have questions. It only makes sense. But I’m telling you right now that I will only answer three.”

  “Where the fuck am I? Am I still in Rome, or are we in Spain? Is this Luca’s house?” That was probably more questions than I should’ve asked. But they all equate to the same thing. So, hopefully they only count as one question.

  “Yes, you are at the Ungur home; Luca’s home now.”

  I don’t know what I’m going to ask next. I need to be smart about only having three questions that I can have answered, assuming this is serious. So, what is it that I need to know? What kind of question is it that’s going to help me?

  I know. “Okay, so what…”

  Migaul cuts me off. “I think that I should speak first so that you don’t waste your questions.” I nod, appreciating this one nicety. “These are the rules of the household. And you are to abide by them. You can only leave this house with Luca or myself. You must be on your absolute best behavior or you will be punished.” Punished? What is this, Fifty Shades of Grey? I don’t really know what’s going on here, what he means by punished, and I really just hope that either I wake up from a horrible nightmare or this is one big fucking joke. Like he’s gonna pop up and say ‘You got Punk’d’.

  But would someone go this far as to imprison me for two days just to do that? Unfortunately, I don’t fucking think so.

  “And I do urge you to behave appropriately or else.” He removes one of the hands from behind his back and places it against the cage. I move a little closer only to be horrified as I see that one of his fingers is missing.

  “My master, Luca, took my finger for not behaving the right way, and I am only a servant. And his favorite servant at that.”

  “Okay, seriously what the fuck? How does someone get away with something like that in the 21st century?” Shit, was that going to count as a question? “Do not take that as one of my questions.”

  “I certainly would hope that isn’t a question. I’m not done with what I was saying anyway. So, as the lady of the house, you must wear the outfit that Luca picks for you, especially when you go out together. When you leave you wear things as he directs. There are no exceptions. Dinner is served every night at 7 PM sharp and breakfast at 9 AM, and every day I will come down here to escort you to both of those meals upstairs. Any other meals and snacks will be had down here in the cage until further notice. Though, you should know that he calls it the oubliette. As you should also refer to it.”

  I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as I try to take in all of this information. Technically, I know I can survive this. I have had ridiculous rules my whole life. My father is a Catholic priest. I went to Catholic school. There are all kinds of crazy rules because of those things. This is just another cage to survive.

  Until I get the chance to end this…

  And the best part of all of it is I already know that I can kill a man. I killed Isaac, so who the fuck says I can’t kill Luca? Maybe Luca is a little bit more cunning and smart; maybe he’s even a little bit stronger, but maybe if I behave and trick him, there will be a chance. And then I really will be free.

  Migual continues once more, and I wonder when his diatribe is going to finally be fucking over. I mean, I am starving here and bored out of my mind. “If you behave, you will be rewarded with things. Some of these will be items that you want or need and others will be trips out of the house, which I’m sure you could use in case you get stir crazy down here. You will be alone for the next hour; then I will be back to take you to dinner.” Migual walks away from the cage and further into the room. I hadn’t noticed it before, but there is a small closet in this room, outside of the cage. He opens it, revealing a set of clothes. All for women. Almost all dresses.

  He pulls one out of the closet, probably what Luca has picked out for me this time, and he brings it over to me. I look at the plum number and see it is bodycon style. So, I guess this definitely confirms that Luca does not swing the other way. At least he’s going to enjoy my body in a way that Isaac never would.

  But the fact that he has me inside a cage and drugged me after forcing me to marry him, all of it disgusts me. Or should. But right now I’m too fucking hungry to worry about any of that.

  “This is what you are to wear to dinner. And please, you should use the shower because you smell like a pig.”

  Well, that was fucking rude. I don’t believe the servant himself said that. But when I lean down to take a small whiff of my own underarms, I realize that he’s probably right. I mean, I have been in here in the same dress, stressed and drugged for more than two days.

  The idea of a hot meal and possibly getting to see and talk to Luca himself and maybe get myself out of this is enough to send me stripping in 20 seconds flat.

  Migual turns and leaves, not
staying to watch me and sticking with the fact that he said he would be gone for an hour. Good, I can make the shower a good and long one. Hopefully the water is hot.

  Not having anything else I can do with it, I set the dress I’ve been wearing as well as the plum dress on my bed and then go to turn on the shower, pleasantly surprised when it’s instantly hot. I guess though if you have the kind of money that Luca must, you can certainly afford to have instant hot water in your cage. Or oubliette as I’m supposed to call it. I let the hot water fall on my head and roll onto my back, scrubbing the best I can and then just letting all of my muscles relax. I didn’t realize how much tension I was holding until I let the hot water start working the kinks out.

  Before I know it, Migual will be back, and I will be expected to follow these ridiculous rules I’ve been told about.

  I get out of the shower and find a small towel that’s actually inside the vanity, drying myself off with it. Then, I tug on the plum dress, just hoping that it’s going to fit my curvy body. It’s a tight fit, but I’m not going to bust out of it, thank goodness.

  I look in the mirror, pleased that I at least look well put together for having to get ready in a cage.

  Inside the vanity I find a simple brush and start getting the tangles out of my hair and hoping that something good is going to come out of this dinner.

  Well, maybe not something good because I doubt he’s going to give me a divorce or he’s just going to have a heart attack and die, but maybe something better than being locked in a cage. If only my father could see me now, then maybe he would prostrate himself before me and repent. Because this shit can be traced directly back to him and his antics to get me married off to the highest bidder.

  Fucking thanks, Daddy.

  Chapter Eight

  Elena

  Nausea courses through my entire body as I stand here in this manmade cage, wondering what my next course of action is. I’ve already taken a shower because much like the man said, I smelt like a pig.

  My eyes scan across the iron bars and I focus intently on the locking mechanism, contemplating if there’s any way I can get out of my predicament.

  I pace back and forth over the concrete floor, close my eyes and attempt to find some loophole where I can turn all of this back to be in my favor. Even in the most dire of situations I’ll try to find a way to get me out of all this.

  “Fuck, there’s no way out of this.” I curse lowly under my breath, running my fingertips along the dress. Although, when I take a gander, I realize it’s conservative in a sense. A thick piece of fabric wraps around both of my shoulders, shielding anyone from getting a look at my breasts. However, the dress makes a sexier turn when it gets to my mid-thigh and begins to span down in an asymmetrical pattern.

  Heavy footsteps make their way back down the stairs and the same man as before is true to his word. I still don’t know what to make of him. He said his name was Migual, but it isn’t much to go off. I know families like this have household staff, so naturally I assume that is his role. He must be Luca’s bitch.

  He seems to be in his mid-thirties possibly, but there’s a young element to this man. Maybe it’s his chocolate brown curls on his head, or the dark hazel eyes. He doesn’t have any facial hair, which always makes men look like they’re young in my opinion.

  “I’d expected you to be somewhat deviant. Yet, here you are, clean and in the dress Luca purchased for you.”

  Every part of me wants to scoff, scream or yell, however I don’t. I hold back every urge in my bones and try to think of this in the smartest way I can— by complying. Being defiant won’t get me anywhere, although complying could give me an inch. Doesn’t mean I won’t take a mile instead.

  “Yes, well, what’s the old saying? You can lead a camel to water, but can’t force it to drink. I’m the camel, and I made a choice to accept the parameters you’ve informed me about.”

  Migual nods his head in a pleased manner, “Fabulous. Luca will be happy to see your . . . acceptance. He approaches the door of the cage, inserts a key and after he turns it, he presses his thumb on something and a beeping sound pops.

  Wow. I didn’t have a clue they had double the security measures in place, but I’ll make mental notes of this.

  Migual waves his hand, urging me to come over. “I’ll escort you upstairs so you may dine with Luca. However, I’d suggest you ensure you’re on your best behavior. There’s no saying how many days without food he’ll tack on if you act up. His record is seven days,”

  I blink a few times while following Migual up the stairwell, pondering what he just said. It makes me think Luca has done this in the past . . . but surely he wouldn’t have just given me a bone to run with. If anything, it’s probably a test to trick me into asking one of my questions and wasting it.

  Once we’re at the top of the stairwell, he walks with me to the dining room and pulls out the chair for me. I take my seat and all of a sudden I feel the chill of metal being clasped around my wrists. I see the handcuffs on my wrists and watch as he attaches another one to the short chain between them and clasps them to a hook on the table. I’m even more surprised than I was before and it takes me a moment to realize this was added to Luca’s table. He customized it . . . which makes me wonder what kind of person I’m really dealing with.

  I turn my body to face Migual before he walks away, “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “He’s doing his job,” Another stern voice responds, sending a chill down my spine. His voice comes from behind me, which means I’m caught off guard and only makes me feel violated even more so. The way he spooked me scares me even more.

  I don’t want to give him any attention given what he’s done, but the screeching of the wood against the floor causes me to shift my awareness to his direction. The two of us lock eyes with one another and the smug bastard smirks, obviously pleased with himself.

  “I’ll be back in a moment with your dinner, Sir.”

  “Gracias, Migual.” Ah, so the Romanian has learned to speak Spanish. If only I thought it was impressive.

  For the next couple of minutes until Migual comes back with our food, I try desperately to avoid eye contact with the monster of a man sitting beside me. His eyes don’t waver from my body, taking me in like he’s never seen a woman ever in his life. Migual’s footsteps are the first thing I hear and I notice he has a covered dish he’s holding with his left arm. He walks around Luca, uncovers the dish and I see two bowls filled with some sort of white meat. I don’t recognize it, but the strong scent of paprika causes me to begin salivating.

  “Are you going to uncuff me so I can eat?” I snap, glaring at the man who believes I should be confined like an animal.

  Silently, I curse at myself when his eyes go wide and I’m sure he’s about to make a show of the dominance he has over me. “You’re more than welcome to eat, Elena, however you won’t be feeding yourself. I apologize, but I simply can’t allow you to do so yet. We have to establish some sort of trust before I let you hold a knife. Right now, I think we both know you’d stab me with it.”

  I muster up the smile I’ve been faking my entire life, “Give me a fork and I promise I won’t stab it through your hand,”

  “As lovely as your promise sounds, I won’t risk it. Here’s the deal, love. I either feed you, or you don’t eat. It must’ve been an incredibly long two days. I bet the headaches started coming in, your stomach got to the point where it stopped growling and you’ve felt aches you never knew could happen.

  Fuck, I want nothing more than to rip the fork he’s just picked up and shove it through his fucking eyeball right about now. Using the one thing I need more than anything against me. I want to be a bitch, to rattle him in some way to his core and throw him off his game, but I know none of it will be possible unless I have energy . . . and how will I have energy if I don’t eat?

  Luca picks up the fork, stabs whatever white meat is before us and brings it toward my mouth. Every part of me wants to not eat sim
ply because he’s the one feeding me, but I can’t be a selfish brat right now.

  I open my mouth and allow him to put the tangy, yet spicy meat in my mouth. There’s loads of paprika on the fish, or at least I believe it’s fish, and I sense the distinctive taste of olive oil. I chew a few times and am shocked with how it doesn’t take me longer to break it up, and swallow.

  “Pulpo a la gallega, an octopus dish. Delicious, yes,” I don’t want to agree, but I nod, because it was delicious. He uses the same fork and takes a bite of it himself, and then gets another piece and offers it to me. “I figured you’d need something light but flavorful on your stomach.”

  “Mhm,” I murmur, chewing the next bite he’s given me.

  “You still have two questions you may ask, Elena.”

  Ah, he’s right. For a few moments I stare at him with only silence between us, figuring out how I should word this in a way that it’ll give me as much information as possible. “How long have you been planning to do this to me? I mean, you have a cage and all of that.” I speak clearly, yet attempt a nonchalant tone, like I really don’t care too much. But honestly, I care far too much than I care to admit.

  Luca surprises me with jovial laughter, so much that he covers his mouth and excuses himself. “It’s adorable how you believe you’re the first,”

  I furrow my brows together, “I’m not the first woman you’ve had in . . . there?”

  “No. With my calculations you’re the eighth.”

  My heart beats heavily in my chest, like a drum in a marching band. All I can think is how there’s no remnants of the women who were here before me. He could be bluffing. It’s possible he just lied and he only created this for me, but somehow I believe he’s telling the truth. I just wonder if these women are dead. The harsh reality is that they’re dead. I want to ask if they died because they couldn’t love him by the time he demanded of them and that was the price they paid . . . but how wasteful of my last question that would be.