His Queen: Chapter 19

“You killed him.” Nunzio’s eyes narrow as he spits out his accusation. “If he weren’t trying to touch what’s mine without my consent, I’d be pretty pissed,” he says, crouched beside the body.

“I’m not yours,” I sneer, huddled in the corner, tightly curled into myself.

“While you’re here, you are, birdie.” He waves his hand, and two of his men approach, grabbing the body’s feet. One of them has dark tattoos inked on his throat, spreading all the way to the back of his neck and up his bald head. The other looks like your average nine-to-five Joe with a steady job in marketing, a wife, two kids, and a labrador puppy. Yet he’s here carting out dead bodies.

Nunzio’s lips curl up into a smirk as his fingers lazily trace the contours of his chin. He scans the floor where a splattered trail of blood is left as they drag the body out of the room. “Poor bastard wanted some of your fights, birdie. And he just couldn’t wait his turn.” He heaves a shallow sigh, shakes his head, and shrugs. “I’m glad you killed him. In fact, I find it amusing as fuck. I knew you were a force, but I had no idea you had it in you to take someone’s life. Well fucking done, birdie.”

My stomach churns. “I don’t know what happened,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was dead.”

“You really can’t remember killing him?”

I shake my head, and Nunzio reaches into his trench coat, pulling out his phone. “Let me show you.”

“What?” My lips quiver.

“Oh, I got it all recorded. The entire thing.”

“You…you have cameras in here?”

“Of course I do.” His cruel, cold eyes study me. “I have all our good times spent in this room over the last two days caught on camera. For my enjoyment, of course.”

He starts toward me, and I instinctively jerk back, wishing I would melt into the wall.

“Relax, birdie. I just had my dick sucked by one of the new girls, so our playtime will have to wait until later.” As the giant grin on his face appears, I get flashes of what it would look like peeled off with my own bare hands.

Nunzio snaps his fingers, and one of his men places a stool next to me. As he sits down, his vile scent invading my space, a wave of nausea crashes over me. Maybe if I had eaten anything, I might be able to vomit.

His fingers fly over his phone screen, and he holds it out for me to look at.

At first, it’s nothing but blank, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s even on. But lights burst through the darkness, and I’m there, lying on the mattress, sleeping. Nunzio has been recording me all this time. Watching me. Rewatching the times he…hurt me. Did he watch it while he got his dick sucked earlier? The thought sickens me. My mouth is too dry to swallow, but I can taste bile in the back of my throat, and I’m barely able to hold it down.

On the footage, it doesn’t look like I woke up when the guard walked in, too exhausted to realize what was happening. And not knowing what’s about to happen.

“This is where it gets good,” Nunzio says, smiling.

My throat closes as I watch the guard grab me by the hair and jerk me up. My face is bruised, hair dirty, and my naked body is covered in smears of blood.

That’s not me. It can’t be me. I don’t know who that is. I hardly recognize that woman at all.

I want to shut my eyes when the guard shoves me on my back and has me in a chokehold, but my curiosity holds it there, unable to look away. I have to know what happened even if my mind refuses to remember.

There’s no sound, but my lips are parted. Am I screaming? Am I begging him? Pleading?

Oh, God, I feel sick to my stomach.

My hands are on his wrist, trying to claw it off me, but it doesn’t look like I’m succeeding.

“Watch,” Nunzio says, moving closer, and I inch back, fear coursing through me.

The guard is fumbling with his belt, his pants, about to pull out his…oh, sweet Jesus.

“Watch, here it comes.”

I clutch my knees to my chest and start to rock as the video continues to play, the guard still choking me, reaching into his pants, his thick fingers still clamped around my throat. Somehow, I can feel it. I can feel his rough hand on my skin, his clothes scratching against my naked body. Why can I feel it, yet I can’t remember any of it?

Then I see it, my hand seemingly taking on a life of its own, snaking around his side and grabbing the knife. Before my mind can process what’s happening, the blade is already lodged in his exposed neck, blood gushing out, splattering on my face. I can smell it. Metallic. Iron. Blood. I’m not even there, but I can smell the stench.

Nausea grabs hold of me violently, my stomach clenched and back arching as I start to retch, seeing nothing but visions of red.

“Oh, my sweet birdie. We need to get some food inside you.” Nunzio’s hand is on my back, his skin like scales on my flesh, and I bolt to the other side of the room, my whole body shaking as I try to process this.

“It’s okay,” he says with a gentle voice that doesn’t fool me. “You just need to eat. I’m sure killing a man has taken a lot out of you, so you need to gather your strength.”

“For what? So I have enough strength to fight you while you rape me?” The words burn like acid on my tongue. “As you said, my fight turns you on.”

“What can I say?” He shrugs, shaking his head with the devil’s grin on his ugly face. “I have a fetish for girls who fight me. But you, there’s something special about you. You feeling me inside you while screaming for me to stop, squirming beneath me, kicking and cursing. I get off on it.”

“You’re sick.”

“I won’t deny it. But you know what else I am?” He takes a step closer, and I lift my chin in defiance. “In. Control.”

There’s nothing but amusement on his face, his eyes vibrant with evil intent. My mind is screaming at me to stop fighting, to submit and become soulless. Nunzio won’t want me, then. He won’t waste his time on me when I’m no longer putting up a fight. But I can’t do it. I can’t convince myself to give up. It’s as if giving up is more challenging to do than surviving.

Nunzio bites his bottom lip, assessing me like he wants to know my thoughts. Like he needs to know what I’m thinking.

“Go get my birdie here some soup,” he orders over his shoulder at his men. “Make it fast.”

The nine-to-five Joe nods and walks out, leaving Baldie behind to what? Protect Nunzio? From who? Me? Coward.

“Let’s get some color back in those cheeks of yours,” Nunzio says.

“I’m not hungry.” It’s a lie. I’m fucking starving. I’ve only had water since I got here, and I’m not sure when that was. But I refuse to eat his food. I refuse to accept any of this.

“Of course, you’re hungry. It’s been two days. You need to eat.”

Two days? Two fucking days? It feels like I’ve been here for longer. Much longer. Maybe even eternity.

“I said I’m not hungry,” I snap.

“At least you no longer care about the fact that you don’t have any clothes on,” he remarks as his eyes crawl down my body.

He’s right. I no longer care that I’m naked, that he can see every inch of me. He’s already touched me and ruined my body in every way possible. There’s no place for modesty in this hellhole anymore.

Joe returns with a bowl of soup, and the aroma instantly fills my nostrils. My stomach growls as the smell of rosemary and black pepper wafts over me, causing my throat to feel like it has been cut. But I press my lips together, determined to fight my hunger.

“This is a family recipe,” Nunzio says, taking the bowl from Joe. “It’s the best mushroom soup you’ll ever taste. I guarantee it. Come. Sit. Eat.”

“I said I’m not hungry,” I lie. It’s more like a growl, feral and vicious.

Nunzio looks at Baldie with a silent command, and what follows happens in a blur. In a flash, Baldie’s hands are on me, gripping my arms tightly. A deep ache explodes in my back as I kick and thrash, writhing like a wild animal, desperate to escape his grip. I’m thrown off balance and suddenly on my back with Nunzio’s hand pressing down on my chest as he tries to hold me still.

“If I say you’ll eat, you’ll fucking eat. Open wide, birdie.”

“No. Fuck you! Fuck y—” A giant hand clamps down over my nose, pinching shut my air source. I beat at his arm feebly, scratching and clawing, but I’m too weak. It’s useless fighting against them.

Hot liquid fills my mouth, and the first gulp bursts down my throat as so much more enters, too quickly for me to swallow. Chunks of food that press into the back of my throat threaten to choke me, and I’m thrashing, desperate for air. The soup goes down a little too fast, setting my insides on fire. The sound that comes out of me…it’s inhuman, terrifying enough to make every hair on my body stand on end. My spine tenses, jerking against the hand still on my chest while I desperately try to cough the soup out of my mouth, but I only end up swallowing more of it.

“That’s it, birdie,” Nunzio praises. “Eat up. I told you it’s fucking delicious.”

My lungs are on the verge of exploding in my chest, my ribs aching under the pressure of Nunzio’s hand. But the soup is no longer choking me; it’s coming out of my mouth with gurgled gasps, like little wet bubbles popping.

I stop struggling, feeling the life drain from my veins while warm soup spills out of my mouth, some of it splattering on my chest. Hot tears prick at my eyes while Nunzio continues to force-feed me, not caring that he’s killing me.

It feels like an eternity, but it’s only as long as one bowl of soup can last while poured down my throat.

The last bit splashes over my mouth, and the moment air slips past my lips, I suck in a deep breath that hurts as it travels down to my aching lungs. Nunzio lets go of me, and my body moves on its own accord, twisting me on my side as instinct tries to get rid of every drop of food still lingering in my mouth.

“I guess you got some of that in,” Nunzio remarks as he towers over me. “There’s some left on the floor in case you get hungry later.”

A low chuckle echoes as he leaves, and my stomach contracts painfully when the door slams shut. Exhaustion crushes me, and every limb drags me down as my muscles slack.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper to myself, tears freely streaming down my face. “I can’t do this anymore, Momma.”

Promise me you will not stop. You will not give up. Please, Mirabella. Please promise me.

Her voice is so clear, it’s like she’s here with me. So close I can feel her warmth.

Promise me you will not stop fighting.

“I promise,” I breathe out. “I will not…stop…fighting.”

“Wake up, birdie.”

I’m jolted awake, my movements slow and sluggish as I come to consciousness. I take a few extra moments to turn my head toward the sound of his voice, aware of the dread bubbling inside me. His presence looms over me, and I wish I could shrink away until I’m nothing.

With my eyes shut, I brace myself for what is sure to come next. Pain and torment follow this man like a shadow wherever he goes.

“It’s time,” he murmurs close to my ear, the tenor of his voice grating down my spine with cold chills. “Wake up. I said wake up!” His cold hands are on my ankle, and with a rough yank, I’m pulled from the mattress, his grip leaving brutal red handprints on my skin. I grit my teeth to stop the cry that threatens to spill from my lips when pain lashes through me, my dirty hair clinging to my face.

A wash of cold water ices over me from head to toe, like a stream of broken shards of glass piercing my skin as it flows down. It seeps deep into my bones, my body convulsing from the icy shock. It’s too much to contain, so I let it out through my tormented cries.

“Time to clean up and let the fun begin.” His familiar voice bleeds into my ears as the air is sucked from my body, leaving my lungs on the verge of collapse.

Nunzio squeezes and pours a bottle of soap all over me, the thick, clear liquid sliding down my stomach, my legs, and I’m shivering so hard my teeth clatter together, my skin nothing but pricks of pain.

It smells like ylang-ylang and ginger, but my mind morphs the pleasant, familiar aroma into a putrid stench that’s foul and repugnant.

The soap is pressed hard against my skin with what feels like bristles of metal and is mercilessly scrubbed over me with a pressure that leaves me breathless. Tears sting my eyes as the soapy bubbles sting the cuts covering my body. My mind goes numb, and I forget to breathe as the fear screams within me.

“Squeaky, squeaky clean,” he taunts. “The last thing we want is our guests to hunt a disgustingly dirty prey.”

More water is splashed over me, the freezing cold turning my body into a useless mass.

Pain shoots up my arm as I’m jerked up by my elbow. There are so many hands on me, I don’t know where to fight and claw to get them off me.

Nunzio appears in front of me, staring at me like a proud guardian would look at his ward. “I’ve never said this to any of my girls before, but I hope you survive, birdie. I really do.”

He steps up close, his breath like fire on my cheek. “We had some fun times, birdie. But I’m afraid it has now come to an end.”

A needle is forced into my arm, and fear grips me tight as the room starts to spin in a blur of colors and sounds. Terror crawls inside me, twisting my insides until I’m blinded by it. Until I’m…nothing.