Chapter 19

Nineteen

JANE

Thick, naked fat rolls dribble over his crotch, covering his short dick while his normally greasy hair is now plastered to his scalp caked with dirt. Gone are the glasses, his face appearing wan and ashen. His eyes are sunken and barely hold tears as he looks past me when we enter the room. The skin on his knees has rubbed so raw, they are bloody pulps of scratched flesh, as is that surrounding both wrists. Various complicated ropes hold his ankles and arms behind him to the wall, but his position is such that he leans forward on his knees at an angle toward a table sitting in front of him.

Only a few days ago, I had sucked his tiny, stinky dick. Cal expected that when telling me to do whatever it took to get his supply, so I did. I performed my duty like always, but the horrible realization that it was a test makes my stomach churn, as does the smell of urine and feces emanating throughout the room. A dried crust of saliva meets the corners of Larry’s mouth, and his tongue looks like sandpaper as he tries to stick it out to speak. His voice is gone. Cal must have him locked up for the last few days without any food or water.

More terrifying than anything is what lies in front of the man. Set up like an afternoon tea is a fancy China plate filled with odd mushrooms I have never seen before. Larry can lean forward enough with his bindings to settle his mouth on the plate and eat them, but for some reason, he hasn’t.

Cal stands behind me, his hands gripping both of my arms as I start to feel heavy in my feet, drunk on the wine and intoxicated by terror. “Are you hungry, Larry?”

The man looks at the plate and nods.

“Then why don’t you eat? Go ahead. Eat.” Cal’s face settles into the crook of my neck as he wraps his ripped forearms around my waist as if we’re watching a fireworks show. Holding me steady, his breaths huff against my neck with mocking laughs.

Dazed, clearly confused, Larry leans forward and sticks his open mouth on the mushrooms, inhaling them with a rapid gnawing action. Barely chewing, he swallows several and scarfs the rest down his gullet, but before he can sit back with satisfaction, his entire body begins to quiver. Drool runs freely from his previously dried mouth as he stiffens like a board, every muscle locking into place in a seizure-like motion. As if watching immediate rigor mortis set in, his large body becomes a lead pipe, straining against the ropes, horrible rattling gasps coming from his neck as he tries to grab onto any air he can find to survive.

Before I can look away, I find my body slumping down into Cal’s arms, which firmly catch me, then gather me up until he holds me bridal style. “Shh, I’ve got you. Just go to sleep.”

“Poison…” I feel it. There wasn’t just wine in that glass. Cal is a master of poisons…and I’ve just become a victim snared in his trap. This is it for me. And I knew it was coming. He knows about me now and this is the end. Clutching my chest, I grasp at my heart, but wherever I touch is shattered. There’s nothing left. It’s too late for us.

Will I be next on the wall?

“Wake up, puppet.”

My eyes feel weighted. Pain, it’s everywhere from my body being stretched out and stiffened. Moving is a chore, but I manage to shift myself despite my arms being held in suspension out to my sides by something around my wrists.

“Wake up, puppet. Open your eyes.”

Attempting to focus, my lids lift and he’s there. Cal stands in front of me, bending at the waist, peering into my face with some curiosity, but his taut arms are crossed against his broad chest. He’s shirtless, exposing every muscle I only dreamed he had, sensing their firmness from the feel of his form under his clothing. He’s absolutely ripped. Black jeans sit low on his hips, showing off his full-scale abdominal ladder of muscles. His body is lean, like he does work outside for a living. Or cuts up bodies in his spare time and buries the pieces in some unknown location.

Most likely the latter.

Tugging my arms downward, I meet resistance, and as I lift my head to see what’s holding them, my heart stops for a moment. Nailed to the ceiling are two wooden cross bars from which several thick wires dangle and hold my arms like I’m a marionette. The ends of each wire contain a cuff through which my arms are threaded, keeping me suspended like a dummy. I’m crowded, a sardine in a can, and when my eyes clear, a hoarse shriek leaves my throat rawer than it was before.

Girls are in here. No, not girls… Dolls. Lifesize puppets of all different shapes and sizes slouch everywhere, adorned with different colored dresses. The wall on my side of the white room is filled with them, each sitting with their heads lolling every which way. Even a pile underneath me makes a soft cushion and my legs are splayed out in front of me, still too numb to move despite my efforts. Large, glassy plastic eyeballs blink slowly as the dolls move with every flinch I make. Some of their mouths open from unhinged jaws, soundless speech leaving their gaping holes.

My pulse races with dread, air not seeping into my lungs. This is worse than any horror movie I’ve seen, the fear causing me to feel like I have lost my mind.

“Now, now. Puppets don’t talk on their own. None of that screaming.” Cal stands, a small smile creeping over his lips as he admires the latest addition to his collection.

If I can just tell him the truth. Will he believe me? If I had any moisture in my eyes left to cry, I would. Not that it would help. I’ve been in these situations before. Trained for them. But this is different because it’s Cal.

Pleading as much as I can muster, I say, “Cal, please. I want to tell you something⁠—”

“Puppets don’t talk. You’ll listen, and when I ask, you’ll give me the answers I want.” As if gathering himself, he stands still, his arms dropping to his sides. “And right now, I want to know who sent you to kill me.” Within a second, he’s back in my face, which I have to turn away from given his closeness or our noses would bump. His breath still smells of our wine, so it can’t have been too long since I’ve been here. A blank expression presses into me as his normal smooth voice is gone, replaced by some evil tone, almost as terrifying as his modulator. “Who do you work for?”

Attempting to swallow my dry tongue, I gather enough saliva to squeak out, “That’s what I wanted to tell you tonight.”

“Speak. Who do you work for?” His tone is harsher than I’ve ever heard. The times he’s stabbed me with a word dart don’t compare to the venom he spits out now.

“Donovan.” My mouth hurts like I’ve got popcorn shells stuck in the back of my throat.

His green eyes hold my gaze for a long moment before one lid lowers. “I don’t believe you,” he says flatly.

“Please. Can—can I have some water? I’ll tell you everything.”

With swift movements, he’s spinning away from me to the back of the room, which I now make out to be a bedroom with a queen-size white iron bed frame. The comforter covering it is extremely frilly and girly. At least there are no dolls on it. On one ornate gold-rimmed nightstand sits a clear carafe and a glass, which he fills with water. It’s windowless down here. Am I still in his cellar? Some weird pink and blue wallpaper coats the finished walls, but it must be the basement, maybe in a smaller room that’s had some work done.

If my drug wears off, I can get out of these binds easily. I’m not going anywhere, though. As soon as I leave, I know I’ve failed my mission, and it’s over for me. Death by Dot or Dash. Here with Cal is probably the safest place I can be.

Shaking my head slightly, I realize the atrocity of that statement.

“Here. Open your mouth.” Cal holds a glass to my lips, and I take small sips, the liquid completely refreshing me and causing the pounding within my skull to deaden. He watches me swallow every bit. “Who do you work for?”

Clearing my throat, I tell him, “I work for Donovan. I have since…well, since I was young. I’ve been groomed to seduce you and gather your trade secrets so he can take over the industry. He needs your goods.”

He places the empty glass back on the table, shuffling back to me and rubbing a hand down his face. Almost to himself, he mutters, “I don’t believe you.”

I sigh. “Ace is broke. You know this. He’s wanted to take over your supplies since he lost everything gambling.”

Pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, he studies me. “So why now, little liar?”

“Because you and Larry started up together a year ago. That dead man in there was Donovan’s only supplier. Once Larry started working with you exclusively, I was sent in to gather your secrets for an eventual takeover.”

Cal shakes his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. You said you were groomed to seduce me.”

“Just like any good spy, I’ve been trained for a specific purpose and was deployed at the right time, which was last year when you and Larry started your relationship, cutting off South Side’s marijuana and hallucinogen line. That’s when I started at West Tech.”

His chiseled chest rises as he inhales. “And once you got those secrets…”

A tiny sob almost escapes my lips, but I hold it back, stuffing it down into my belly, which fills with lead. “I was to poison you in your sleep once we were together. Make it look as natural as possible to not start a war.”

His mouth closes into a grimace as he crosses his arms again, looming over me with his tall body. Silence greets the air for several moments before he responds. “Ace likes war. He wouldn’t be quiet about this.”

“Well, his handlers have talked some sense into him, I suppose. I’m third rank; I’m not privy to the information coming directly from his team. I receive my orders from Dot and Dash, you know them.”

Leaning down, he puts one finger under my chin and lifts my heavy head. “Why are you spilling your secrets to me so easily, little puppet?”

Now a tiny tear does escape. I can finally tell him everything… It’s freeing and exhausting. “Because I’ve wanted to work with you. I-I… Taking the gig with Donovan’s spy guild was a survival tactic. I have no loyalty to the Donovans.”

He snorts. “But you have loyalty to the Von Dovish clan?”

“No.” My eyes water as he studies my expression, searching for the truth. “I have loyalty to you.”

Before I know it, he gathers up spit and hurls it in my face with his lips, the warm strings running down my eyelid and cheek. My hands are bound to the wires, leaving it dripping off my lashes, so I blink as much as possible to clear my sight.

Turning around, his back muscles tense under his smooth skin. “Liar. I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. I tried to tell you on the plane, Cal! I tried to warn you and tell you not to be interested in me... That you shouldn’t choose me. I was afraid you wouldn’t believe it if I spilled everything.”

“You were right. I don’t believe you.”

As suspected, everything I did was for naught. Either way, I’m failing. If I get out of here, I’ll fail my mission with Dot and Dash. If I stay, Cal will kill me because he doesn’t believe me.

When he faces me again, Cal begins pacing while running his hands through his hair. He pauses and tugs until the chocolate brown strands stand at fitful angles all over his head in a wild display. His head darts around erratically in all directions as he grits out, “Here is what I know… I hired you knowing you were a spy. Knowing you were sent to kill me. Keep your enemies close and all that… Well, I did.”

Internally, I groan, considering it was all for nothing. Not one moment of all this went over his head…

“I’ve watched you diligently. With the utmost care, I studied your sequences until I could have programmed them myself. When you would move a finger to scratch your nose. When you raised your hands to eat a sandwich. When your feet shifted… Every single action you’ve taken, I made sure you weren’t trying to murder me. Wherever you have gone, whomever you spoke with, whomever you fucked, any time you touched yourself. In your shower. The time you got food poisoning from that horrible taco place downtown. Buying yourself a cupcake and putting a candle in it to pretend it was your birthday. Pressing your back to your door and listening. The times you would cry in the corner of your room for some unknown reason...I was there. I’ve always been there. Watching. Every single night you were in your bed, I’d make sure you didn’t wake up so you wouldn’t visit me in my sleep.”

Some part of me knew it. Despite the random sweeps, I felt him there, too. Problem was…I wanted him to watch. Just as much as I was watching him. My face gets hot at the desolation in my situation. Can I get him to feel for me? To care? Or am I just another tool he’s using for himself?

With an absolute feral look in his eyes filled with tears of rage, he spins and glares at me. “Do you know how fucking exhausting you are? How fucking maddening? Over time, it grew to be less of a chore, and once you became so predictable, I realized…you’re not real. I must have invented you, because I control everything about you now. Your feelings, your tastes, your actions, your words. You thought your handlers groomed you, but I was the one doing it over the last year and maybe even before then... You just didn’t know it.”

The problem is…I do know it. And that’s why I don’t know who I am anymore. Cal sees me better than I see myself. It’s why I need him, to remind me that I exist.

Squatting in front of me, he runs his fingers over my cheek. “I’m your puppet master. I’ve figured out who you work for. But I want you to be a good pet and tell me the truth. So… Who. Do. You. Work. For?”

There’s only one way I can get him to believe me. To trust me. But if I tell him the truth, the entirety of it, it will crush him. Down to the pits with me. “Cal…I work for Donovan.”

“Wrong answer.” From his pocket, he pulls a syringe and jabs it into my neck before I can scream. Fading back into the darkness, I fall asleep.