Uncovering You 10: The Finale Page 9

  He turns away. “Ten days, Lilly,” he informs me. “I am giving you ten days to make your choice. Already, Esteban is growing impatient. I advise you to take the pills. Because you know that in the end, whether you will it or not, they will end up in your system. And honestly? It’s so much better when you feel like you are the master of your own fate.” He chuckles. “No matter how wrong the illusion might be.”

  Succumb. Give in. End up like Paul.

  Nightmares like that haunt my sleep. In the background of them is the ever-present voice. The voice of my subconscious, the voice that once gave me my strength.

  Succumb. Give in. What choice do you have?

  Over and over that mantra is repeated in my sleep. Over and over I reject it, determined to remain true to who I am, determined to make Jeremy proud of me.

  Wherever in the world he is.

  Chapter Twenty

  June 2014.

  The Stonehart Building. Top floor.

  “Sir? The banks are calling. They want—”

  “Fuck them,” I growl, cutting the man off. I don’t need to look up from the computer screen to know he doesn’t have the courage to face me.

  He tries to continue. “They’re asking for s-settlement of o-overdue accounts,” he stutters, “and—”

  “What did I just FUCKING SAY?” I explode, slamming my hand on the desk and surging up.

  The man flinches back. I stride around my desk and advance on him.

  “There is only one thing of importance to me,” I tell him in a soft, dangerous voice. “One thing! And unless you’ve come here to tell me you’ve made progress…?”

  I let the question hang in the air, feeding his discomfort. He shakes his head minutely in response.

  I stop in front of him. He tall enough to meet me at eye level, but when confronted with me like this, few are man enough to stand tall. His shoulders hunch under my scrutinizing glare.

  “Go,” I whisper. “Tell the banks what I fucking said.”

  He bobs his head up and down quickly, stammers and muted apology, and backs out the room.

  The door closes. I hit the lock button. A second later, the entire glass wall exposing the rest of the office frosts into an opaque white.

  I stride to the bar, every step hard and purposeful. I grab a bottle of scotch and pour a drink. I bring it to my lips, savor the liquor’s aroma for one sweet second… then tip my head back and swallow it whole.

  My eyes are pulled to the bottle. It’s not yet ten a.m., and yet it’s already three-quarters empty.

  “Motherfucker,” I whisper. I look back at the glowing computer screen, where the first email from Lilly’s captors blazes on the screen.

  The words of that email are etched permanently into my mind.

  “Motherfucking goddammit!” I scream, and in a fit of rage, hurl the bottle into the big glass wall.

  It shatters with an explosion of sound. I ignore the vague forms of people who’ve stopped to take notice on the other side.

  Instead, I stalk back to my desk. I throw myself into the chair, and, for the thirtieth time this morning, read the message from Esteban:

  Good Morning Mr. Stonehart,

  You might be surprised to hear from me. There is good reason I am writing you. Before reading on, please confirm that fact by opening one of the attachments.

  I had. There were pictures of Lilly—my Lilly—in terrible shape. Oh, I wanted to see Esteban burn when my eyes swept over the photos.

  The email continued:

  Have you done so? Good. It seems you can follow instructions when necessary. Remember your capacity for that, for it will be tested again soon.

  She is alive, if not entirely well. You may have her back. But first, you must give me what I seek.

  What is that?

  Reparation. Reparation for the damage caused by your blunt arrogance.

  Think on your sins, Mr. Stonehart. You have no one to blame for this situation but yourself.

  Don’t try to find me. Wait for my next message. There, I will state my demands.

  Your response will determine if the next time you see Miss Ryder, she comes to you alive and breathing… or in a body bag.

  -E.

  “E.” The single letter gave me pause at first, but who could it be, other than Esteban?

  Nobody.

  Knowing that already puts me one step ahead of the game.

  I lean back in the chair, mind working hard. A tentative smile spreads across my lips as I start to see the faintest glimmer of a rescue plan.

  I open my right-hand drawer and take out my most precious possession. A photograph of the only woman I’ve ever loved.

  “I’ll get you out of this, my sweet Lilly-Flower,” I promise, tracing my fingertips over her lips. “Come hell or high water, you’re coming home alive. That, I stake my life on.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Day three of my protest.

  I’m awakened from a thin sleep by the sound of men storming the room.

  Before I can blink, I’m being hauled up and carried out through the doors. My feet drag on the floor, limp and heavy.

  We pass the operating room and return to the dank concrete bunker that was my first prison.

  I’m forced into a chair. A bright light blinds me. I can see only enough to make out the familiar shape of the tripod and the camera.

  And the flashing red light. Always, the flashing red light.

  “Did you take the pills?” a voice demands. It’s that of the scar-faced leader.

  I angle my face toward him as best I can and spit in response.

  “Whore!” he screams. He hits me. I cry out and fall to the floor.

  “Pick her up,” he snarls.

  I am lifted. As soon as I’m upright, I’m hit again, on the other side of the face. I tumble the opposite way.

  “Again,” he repeats, and I’m picked up and plopped in the seat. I cower in anticipation of the strike and pain.

  The slap blindsides me. I collapse and see stars.

  “Three times for three pills,” he tells me. “You see the camera?” He turns it away, so it faces an empty corner. “It caught all that. Now, all it will hear are the screams of a whore.”

  Two men pin my shoulders to the ground as their leader lifts my robe, drops his pants, and begins to rape me.

  In the dark, I lose all sense of time.

  My sleep is thin. My wakefulness is misery.

  A vague longing grows deep inside me. The need for submission. The need to give in. A natural willingness ground into me by the madness taking hold of my mind, I feel it rising. The demonic form consumes me from the womb, sapping my strength, and breaking my resolve.

  A cry—no, a scream—rings out in the cold furnace of the night. My cry. My scream.

  They’ve been looping the audio of my rape over and over for endless nights.

  Is it even night? I don’t know.

  I am so tired. I am so lonely. I am breaking, and madness is taking hold.

  It’s times like these that the animalistic urge to give in becomes nigh insatiable.

  Day ten.

  The final day of my protest. The last day I am given a choice.

  Hugh, Rose, and Esteban all enter my room. I cower from the light on the other side of the doorway.

  They leave the door open. Through it, I see three guards. Scar face. Big Man. And the nameless, silent third one.

  Rose comes to me first. She kneels downs and strokes my arm. “My, my, my,” she murmurs. “Look how far you’ve fallen.”

  “I’m never going to take your drugs,” I spit, glaring at her, at Hugh, at Esteban. Hatred fills me.

  Rose looks amused. “No?” she asks. “I think I can find a way to persuade you. You are, after all, very much alone.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Not me, my dear,” she says. “But you. Soon enough. Soon enough.” She rises. “Bring the camera,” she says.

  Big Man carries the tripod inside. Scar Fac
e, the rapist, operates it.

  Esteban giggles in the background

  Rose sits down beside me and puts my head in her lap. I’m too weak to fight. Through blurry eyes, I watch her address the camera.

  “Hello, Mr. Stonehart,” she says sweetly, calmly. “Look who I have here. It’s your precious Lilly-Flower. Isn’t it? Oh…” She makes a face. “but she isn’t so pretty now. Is she? Poor thing.”

  She brushes my cheek. I hiss and flinch away.

  Rose smiles. “Sensitive, she is, it seems,” she says. “Imagine that. The girl whom you trained to come for you on demand not wanting to be touched.”

  I stare up at her, caught by disbelief. She looks down at me and puts on a pitying face. “Yes, yes,” Rose says. “I know all about your bedroom activities. I had Charles in love with me. Don’t you remember?” She’s speaking to both me and the camera now. “You, Mr. Stonehart, gave him access to the cameras. As my dear Hugh tells me, your flaw, your greatest weakness, was that you were too trusting.” She laughs in delight. “You thought yourself so safe in that castle of yours. Shielded off from the world. Immune to feelings and other failings of the common man. But I was there all along. Wasn’t I? You thought you’d made me your pet,” She throws her hair back and looks straight into the camera. “But as I taught you the night I made you a man, Little Jeremy, I am a woman who cannot be tamed. Not in that way. Not ever.”

  She looks over at Hugh and motions him to come over.

  I watch all this through heavily lidded, weak, drowsy eyes. I’m operating on the last bits of strength I have left. I feel like I’m barely alive.

  Hugh joins Rose and me before the camera. “Hello, son,” he says. He looks down at me. “My! But this scene seems awfully familiar to me. Once more, I hold the life of a woman you care about in my hands. And, once more, I have passed you the gun. I created the scenario. It is up to you to decide what you will do with it.

  “On the one hand,” he says, “you have your little Lilly-Flower. A tactless pet name, I should add. I always thought so. But…” He licks his lips, “…I was never in quite the right position to let you know.” He chuckles. “I am now.”

  Hugh beckons Esteban closer. “Esteban, my boy! Come on over and say hello. My son must be shown what a grave miscalculation he made when he dismissed you as weak.”

  Esteban struts over, his shoulders thrown back, that mad glimmer in his eye.

  “And now we’re all gathered here again,” Hugh says. “Me. Rose. Esteban. And the fourth, most important member of our party.” He tilts my head up with his wiry hand. “Lilly Ryder.”

  Esteban speaks next. “As you can see, we are in a position of strength here. Hugh told Rose you were too trusting. But do you know what I think your great flaw is? Arrogance.

  “It is American arrogance that brought Lilly here. Arrogance that let you give me enough time and space to be your undoing. Arrogance that allowed my men to rescue Hugh from that awful retirement home you shoved him in. Arrogance that made you think a twenty-million-dollar reward could alter the loyalty of my men.” He laughs. “Or is it forty million now? Honestly, we’ve lost count.”

  “Now, now,” Hugh cautions patting Esteban’s shoulder. “Let’s not get carried away just yet. We still have certain things to see to.”

  “Oh, yes,” Esteban’s eyes light up. He surges down and grabs me by the throat. I choke and gasp and sputter.

  Big Man rushes in to help. He grabs my arms and twists them painfully behind me as I kick and struggle. Hugh has led Rose away from the altercation. The leader directs the camera—that vile, evil camera with its flashing red light—straight at me.

  Esteban rages over me, his eyes afire with greed and determination and lust.

  But it is not the sort of lust that a man feels for a woman. It is more insidious.

  He lets go of my throat and grasps my jaw. His fingers press into me with horrible, unyielding strength. I continue to struggle, trying to resist. But Big Man has me caught like a trout in a net. My thrashing only makes things worse.

  Big Man puts me in a headlock. His enormous arm restricts both air and blood flow.

  I feel myself getting lightheaded. Weak. Whatever little strength I had left seeps out of me like air from a punctured tire.

  Esteban pinches my cheeks and forces my mouth into an open O. He stuffs a handful of pills past my lips, seals my mouth with his palm, and pinches my nose so I cannot breathe.

  I choke and gag and try to spit them out. Then Rose comes up to us, ever-so-softly, and hands Esteban a long-necked glass bottle. He stuffs it between my lips.

  Big Man tilts my head back.

  “Easy now. Easy now,” Esteban repeats. “Drink. Swallow. Don’t fight. Don’t make it worse.”

  I cannot breathe. But for the life of me, I do not want those vile drugs in my system. The camera, blinking in the background, mocks me with its serenity.

  I splutter as the liquid floods my throat. I don’t swallow. Then, in a terrible fit of panic, I gasp a breath. The water goes down the wrong way. Still my head is locked in place, with Esteban holding my nostrils shut, and that bottle held to my lips.

  I’m drowning. I try one last desperate attempt to spit it out, to spit all of it out.

  “Drink!” Esteban insists. “Drink it, Lilly! Drink it now!”

  Big Man adjusts his grip. The pressure on my throat lessens. By instinct, by the self-preservation mechanism that forces me to breathe, I gag down the horrible water, pills and all. I swallow, and glug it all down. As soon as I do, I’m let go.

  I fall to the floor. I gasp for precious air. “No, no, no,” I cry, choking and sputtering. A coughing fit overtakes me. My body tries to dispel the liquid caught in my lungs. I lie on my stomach, in a pool of my own spit, my front drenched with water or whatever it is that I was given. All I can think is:

  I’ve failed. They got the drugs into my system. I’ve failed.

  Esteban’s laughter abounds from above me. It’s a hysterical sort.

  “Hold her,” Rose’s voice rises up from the dim. “Make sure she doesn’t try to induce vomiting.”

  Rough hands jerk me up and pull me to my feet. I feel broken, abused.

  I’ve already lost.

  “Now,” Esteban brushes a hand through his hair, addresses the camera once more. “You know what she’s been given. You know that your little Lilly-Flower is absolutely under our control. The clock is ticking now, Mr. Stonehart. Your esteemed father tells me that, quite soon, the drugs will begin to consume her mind. The only way to stop it…” He laughs. “…is the consistent administration of the counteragent. Which, it just so happens, we have right here.” He lifts a small vial to the lens. “Unfortunately for you…” He shakes the bottle. “…it seems to be in short supply. So if you want to see your Lilly, clear and lucid, I’d advise you to make the decision on our offer quickly.”

  “Don’t do it!” I sputter. “Jeremy don’t! Whatever it is, don’t do it!”

  “Shut her up,” Esteban snaps.

  Big Man seals a hand over my mouth.

  “Now give me that,” Esteban addresses the leader of his gang, motioning to the camera.

  Scar Face unhooks it from the tripod and hands it to him.

  Esteban takes it and pans it about the room. Hugh nods at it. Rose gives a little wave.

  Hate is not a word strong enough to describe the loathing I feel for them then.

  “Mr. Blackthorne?” Esteban asks. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to say?”

  “Yes, of course,” Hugh bows his head. “Thank you for the reminder. Lilly…” He looks at me. “I have to admit that I was not truthful before. Those red pills? They are the ones that ruin your mind. And what we can give you is not a substance that induces the visions, but one that takes them away.” He spreads his hands. “I am sorry. The half-life I told you about? That’s the half-life of the counteragent. Not the activator. There is no activator unfortunately. Such a thing simply does not exist. We will give
you enough to have you stay with us, mentally, at first. After all,” He smiles. “we don’t want you to degrade to the state that your father is in. Not just yet.” He motions at Esteban. “Go on, my boy.”

  “Thank you,” Esteban turns the camera to himself. He holds the vial up once more. “So, Mr. Stonehart. This is all we have of the counteragent. The only company in the world that can give us more? Stonehart Industries. Now you see why our demands are not so unreasonable. And, if you care about this nasty little girl half as much as I am led to believe, I think that we’ve just strengthened our bargaining position.”

  Esteban starts pacing circles around the room, speaking right into the camera again. “Here are the instructions once more: First, you will transfer all stock that you hold of Stonehart Industries to your father’s name.” He giggles. “Quite an ironic twist. Don’t you think? You took his company from him in your youth. And now he, weathered and old, takes control of yours from you in your prime.” Esteban glances at Hugh. “No disrespect meant, of course, sir.”

  Hugh waves it away. “I know who I am,” he says, taking Rose’s hand.

  “Next,” Esteban continues. “Once that is done, you will arrange all the paperwork to have Dextran annexed from Stonehart Industries in full. I want my company back too, Mr. Stonehart. My friend here will sign the executive order putting all that in place once he becomes majority shareholder. Isn’t that right, Mr. Blackthorne?”

  “Of course,” Hugh says.

  I try to struggle against Big Man, to break out of his grip and scream for Jeremy not to do it. But, I’m much too weak. I feel like a flailed prisoner, shattered and torn.

  “Oh, I’d like something too,” Rose says, her voice pitching up as if her declaration is totally spur of the moment.

  Esteban turns the camera to here. “Say your will.”

  Rose walks up to me. She smiles and picks at the arm of my robe. “You were such a pretty thing, once,” she tells me softly. “And I picked out so many pretty clothes for you.”

  She spins around and announces grandly: “Jeremy, I want to have the ability to pick out pretty clothes for myself, too. Pretty clothes and diamonds and jewelry and rings. Over the years, I’ve grown accustomed to your exquisite tastes. It’ll take money for me to buy all those things. Lots and lots of money. So…” She smiles a nasty smile. “…I want it all. Your entire fortune, transferred to me. Oh, but don’t worry. I’ll be nice, and let you keep that precious little retreat in the woods. The one you relegated my dear Hugh to. How did you phrase it, so eloquently, that one time? ‘Retirement calls for you, old man’?” She laughs. “It’ll be your retirement that is achieved, Little Jeremy. Oh, and the forty million you promised for Lilly? I’ll take that, and distribute it amongst our three guards.” She winks at them. “So you see: Your reward was never in any real danger of being claimed.”