Page 112 of The Saint

“No.” Panicked, she shook her head. She would drown with that crap in her mouth. “Can’t.” She tipped her head forward instead, and blood red drool dripped onto her legs. Her breathing hitched. She choked and gagged again.

“Okay. Spit it on the floor.” Esme stepped back and waited for her to finish nearly dry heaving. “Now head back.” She held a small bottle the size of her pinky filled with a clear liquid and uncapped it.

Fear gripped Amelia. “Why?”

“It will swell your eyes up.” Esme cupped her cheek. “It’ll burn. But it’s nothing permanent.”

“No.”

“The other option is to give you black eyes the old-fashioned way.”

“No.” She bucked against the chair. The zip ties cut into her wrists. “I don’t like this. I don’t want to—”

“I’m doing it one way or another.” Esme lips flattened. “We have to stay alive, kid. Think of everything you love. Think of your man.”

The drops went in. Amelia cried out.

“Little louder for the boys outside the door.”

God, she hated this lady.

“You’re doing a good job, Amelia.” Esme stroked the back of her head. “Just like that. Make sure they hear you.”

Amelia didn’t have to pretend. Her face burned. She couldn’t see through the stream of tears as her eyelids swelled.

Esme stepped away and returned. She cut off Amelia’s sleeves and rubbed a lotion over her arms. “This will make your skin look horrible after impact.”

“Impact?” Amelia blinked through the burning tears at the rod in her hand. It was skinny, like a chopstick, but as long as her arm.

“We need bruises,” Esme warned. “This one will sting, but lean into the pain. On three: one, two, three.” The skinny rod smacked Amelia’s arm. Esme frowned. “I can make it hurt more if you need the incentive to cry out.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the spirit. On three again. Here we go. One, two, three…”

Hours seemed to pass, though it could have been minutes. Esme worked Amelia over, yet she didn’t. Amelia was in pain, but it was nothing compared to how bad it could have been.

“Last indignity.” Esme took out a small digital camera and snapped photos of her face, neck, and arms. “All done, my dear.”

“Can I see what I look like?”

Esme pursed her lips then decided, holding up the camera for Amelia to see. She looked beaten to within an inch of her life.

“I have to leave. The men from earlier will untie you and leave you food. Don’t get out of bed for at least an hour. Don’t eat all the food at once. Remember how you look, and act that injured.” She cupped Amelia’s face. “You are just as strong as your sister.”

Tears fell down Amelia’s cheeks. “Did she suffer?”

“I wasn’t there, but from what I’ve been told, no. It was quick, and her spirit remained until the end.”

Amelia dropped her chin and let the tears fall. Hailey was gone. Amelia hadn’t been able to find or save her, but she’d died protecting what she believed in.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

A booming knock pounded on the door. Camden jerked up on the couch and checked the time: five in the morning. He quickly gathered his wits and threw off the blanket. He might not trust a CIA safe house, but this was Titan’s. He would stake his life on their resources as long as he didn’t have contact with Beth or Esme.

Camden checked the peephole and groaned. Nothing good was about to happen. Then he let his boss inside. “Morning, Boss Man.”

Jared strode into the room. His eyes were tired. Dark circles promised he hadn’t had a lot of sleep. Camden checked outside for anyone else then shut the door.

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