Chapter 4 Blind in the Dark

Emília Gray 

My head throbbed.

My limbs ached.

My entire body felt like it had been thrown onto a bed of thorns. Even my pinky toe felt an overwhelming pain, as if it were slowly disintegrating.

I tried to open my eyes. And when I did, I realized it was still dark, the atmosphere echoing with ominous sounds that buzzed in my ears.

Was I blindfolded?

I tried to move, but with a single motion I immediately understood my position. My limbs were raised, bound at the wrists. My feet were off the ground.

I swayed, straining my wrists with all the desperation running through my veins. I rubbed part of my arm against my face, hoping to remove the blindfold, but the knot had been tied too well.

Losing part of my bodily autonomy and my sense of sight was terrifying. It wasn’t as if I had been dismembered or had my eyes ripped out, but the mental pain followed the same path.

I tried to stay calm, but every time I replayed the sound of that voice and the dark, ghostly figure I had seen, my survival instinct took over.

I needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Are you enjoying the accommodations, princess?"

My heart shattered instantly.

So I wasn’t wrong. It was him.

That voice dug deep into my mind. Memories of the Emília from four years ago filled the space that was supposed to keep my body functioning.

I would recognize that tone from afar.

I would recognize any of them.

Questions flooded in, theories forming until they reached a conclusion.

"Forgive the conditions. I couldn’t get a five-star hotel, but I thought it would be more comfortable for us to be at home," he mocked.

"Your sense of humor hasn’t changed. Still showing your low IQ."

He laughed.

"You used to be more welcoming, Emília. What happened to your good mood?"

"In the same place none of you should have ever left. Hell," I spat angrily, shaking my body.

The anguish of being in such a vulnerable position was consuming me. My lungs were already searching for a backup plan, because I could collapse at any moment. The lack of air was creeping in.

But fear was the first sign of weakness. I couldn’t show that.

"Where’s your boyfriend?" I asked with a mocking laugh. "Did you have to ask your friend to kidnap me and don’t have the courage to face me? Are you scared?"

He scoffed and closed the distance in three steps. From the echo of his shoes, we were in a large, empty place. If there was furniture, there wasn’t much.

"I didn’t like that. You’re confusing me with Cole," he mocked.

Revulsion flooded my insides instantly.

I had been wrong the entire time. They were still in contact. They had never ended their friendship. Their bond was as strong as ocean currents.

Fuck, I was an idiot.

"Are you all here?" I asked, trying not to reveal my fear.

"Unfortunately, princess, I invited you here to answer my questions, not the other way around."

Another set of footsteps echoed.

He was getting closer.

"What do you want from me, huh?" I spat, my heart pounding. "I have nothing to offer."

"You do," he whispered. "One thing, in particular."

A wave of anguish spread through my body.

I needed to get out.

Fear was taking over my bones, and it felt like I was losing control of my own movements. My arms were already exhausted from being held in that position, and the lack of light hurt far more than I could imagine.

It was one sense gone. My sense of smell was useless for anything other than inhaling the scent of mold and rotten flesh, along with the expensive cologne of the man who had kidnapped me.

"I have a few coins in my account and a piggy bank. I don’t know if that’s what you’re looking for."

"Fuck, finally your sense of humor is coming back," he laughed. "Actually, I want what your parents left for you."

My face hardened.

Even though I couldn’t see his expression, I knew his was just as impenetrable, completely void of emotion.

"I don’t understand. Do you want their ashes or the trauma? You’ll have to be more specific."

Another step.

I could hear his breathing more clearly. His lungs shifting inside his body as if they were on a casual walk. It was strange how being blindfolded sharpened my hearing.

"You know how much I like to joke, but now I want your tongue to behave and be sweet to me, alright?" His tone became frighteningly calm. "Let’s go back to the beginning. Where do you have the Factory map?"

"What? What Factory?"

"Don’t play dumb. You won’t like it."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said. "What the hell is this Factory map?"

A long, heavy sigh filled the space.

"You’re not helping me, Emília."

My teeth clenched.

It wasn’t even about the situation anymore, but about realizing I was being placed in the wrong position.

My ribs already felt weak, every muscle exhausted from being pulled by a rope. I didn’t know how long I could endure.

"I don’t know what you want from me, but whatever you’re looking for isn’t with me."

"Impossible," he hissed.

"Well, it is possible because it’s the truth," I snapped, trembling with anger. "I don’t even have a strand of my parents’ hair, let alone a map of whatever that is."

"They wouldn’t leave it in anyone else’s hands but yours."

My mouth was bleeding from how hard I bit down in that moment.

"My hands are as empty as your brain, you piece of shit," I snapped. "Your best friend is the reason I have nothing. Ask him. He heard my parents’ last words. He must know where the hell that map is."

Silence settled after I finished speaking.

He must have been recalculating his next move. Curiosity started to take over my mind. What map was that? What was the Factory? My parents had left me nothing related to that. The only thing in their will was that I would have access to my inheritance when I turned twenty-one. That was it.

All the chaos in my life was a consequence of their deaths and involved nothing more than debts, a degree to finish, and another job just to earn scraps for survival.

"Fuck… If you don’t want to cooperate the easy way, it’ll be the hard way," he threatened after a few seconds of silence.

My skin prickled, chills running through me as his footsteps moved away.

"I’m telling the truth!" I shouted, twisting my wrists desperately, wanting to get out.

He said nothing more, and the dread boiled in my blood, heating every part of me like an animal about to die, its final moments the most important of its life.

"Asher, come back!" I screamed. "Asher! Asher!"

My lungs gave out from shouting so much, but nothing.

I was left alone, the door locking, and fear taking shape in the darkness.

---

I don’t know how much time passed.

Three, four, five hours?

Twelve?

I felt like I had lost more weight than I had consumed all week. My metabolism was working as if I had lived five years in just a few hours. I had exhausted myself trying to get out of there, but I couldn’t.

I got used to the darkness, but the strain in my muscles was impossible to ignore. My wrists were bleeding from the brutality of the ropes. I felt as if the blood had stopped flowing through my veins, freezing in a way that corroded my organs.

My system felt disconnected from my existence.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I was going to go insane if I stayed there one more second.

Despite the adrenaline from the danger I was in, I was sleepy. But every time my head dropped, my feet suspended in the air and the fear of becoming defenseless acted like energy, forcing my eyes open.

At one moment, when my brain was about to shut down, I heard the door creak.

I quickly lifted my head, even though I still couldn’t see anything beyond darkness.

"Who’s there?" I asked, exhausted.

No one answered, but I could feel a presence.

"I don’t have what you want, please. Leave me alone," I pleaded.

Even though I refused to show weakness, begging might be the only way out.

I knew them, damn it. Wouldn’t there be any compassion?

No response came, only the sensation of someone approaching.

Then, something touched me.

I reacted violently, kicking my feet outward and hitting a leg, maybe. A groan of pain brushed against my ear.

"I don’t remember you being this aggressive."

My breath caught.

"Jaxon?"

My wrists were freed instantly. I collapsed against him and was lowered to the ground. My feet were numb, so walking felt harder than crossing an ocean.

"Jaxon, is that you?" I asked again. His sigh was confirmation. "What’s happening? Please, explain. It was him, wasn’t it? You were living normal lives. Why are you doing this?"

"I’m not the one who’s going to give you answers. And it wasn’t him. It’s us."

"Asher asked for some kind of map. I don’t know what that is."

"This isn’t the best time for you to lie."

I shook my head.

"I’m not lying. I don’t have it!" I shouted. "Please, Jaxon, get me out of here."

"In exchange for what, Emília?" he asked, traces of fury in his voice. "You’re an easy path to what we want."

"You’re wrong. I don’t—"

A cold object pressed against my neck.

The air tightened in my throat as I forced myself not to inhale near the blade.

I could feel the sharp tip inviting itself to end my life.

"Don’t say another word and just come with me," he whispered threateningly. "Don’t even think about doing anything stupid. We’ll hunt you down, Emília. We’re hungry for it."

My heart slammed against my ribs.

My life was being threatened by the same boy I once wanted to protect. Just like all of them.

"You weren’t like this."

"We always were. You just never wanted to see it."

I was forced to walk. I knew we had left that place by the change in the air. But the bitter taste filling my mouth fed my fear.

What would they do to me? What else did they want?

They thought I was lying, but I was drowning in a sea of ignorance far deeper and more terrifying than theirs.

We reached another room. Much warmer, more confined, because the echo was gone.

Jaxon shoved me into a wooden chair. I felt the hardness as I hit it. My hands were fastened to iron cuffs on each arm of the chair.

I was captive again, unable to move or plan an escape.

"What are you doing?" I asked, even though I knew no answer would come.

Jaxon’s silence and the fact that he left after restraining me like a prisoner pushed my anger to the edge. I started kicking, forcing the chair to move, screaming as if steam from a train had built up in my throat.

"Fuck! Get me out of here, you sons of bitches!" I shouted, as if my life were in the devil’s hands and all I could do was beg a god for help.

I knew what they were capable of.

I had seen what those bastards could do to those they hated. To those they targeted.

I had been a naïve fool. I didn’t know what was coming when I met them.

They were ruin. Silence. Pain. Emptiness.

They were what death would be if it had dark hair and a wicked smile.

Especially him.

So I couldn’t give in. Not to them. Not to him.

He would kill me just like he had four years ago. And my death wasn’t a gift for that bastard. He wouldn’t have it.

I screamed louder, my heart burning as if it had limbs and each one was being torn apart by the force of my hatred.

A way out. I had to wait for a chance.

Then the atmosphere changed.

Something had entered.

Someone.

Part of me was still a magnet drawn to the opposite pole he carried.

To all the hell he held like a pet.

"You’re still loud as hell."

That voice.

That damn voice.

His fingers slid behind my neck and removed the blindfold. I hesitated to open my eyes, afraid. Angry. Filled with all the resentment I carried for that bastard.

But when I did, his figure crouched in front of me made my stomach twist.

God, I hated him.

"Dante…"

The most abominable smile spread across his lips.

"Welcome back to my hell, pulchra."