Page 41 of The Heir
"The Nephilim arrives tomorrow!" Ella squeals. "You're going to look all sad and pathetic andweak. Just like you always do—like you've always been. You use your money like a shield. You use it like a weapon of mass destruction. But without it? All by yourself? You're nothing. You'renothing!And you're going to show the Nephilim the pathetic little mess that you are."
I'm shocked into silence. Ella has been, up until now, extremely cool-headed. Slimy and taunting, yes, but she's never lost her temper. The realization hits me like a lightning bolt: she'snervous. The Nephilim's impending arrival has her on edge. I bite the inside of my lip to hold back a smile.
"That's all? Just look pathetic and weak?" I manage to deliver my response in a flat, monotone voice.
She huffs out a scoff. "That's it. Should be easy, right?"
"Right. And then you'll take me outside?"
"And then I'll take you outside. You might even see your wife."
My heart leaps into my throat. "Melody? You'll let me see Melody? Where is she—what have you done to her?"
"I haven't doneanythingto her." Ella smirks again, her calm and collected persona returning. "You might want to ask her whatshe'sdone, though."
Before I can ask anything more, Ella turns around and stalks away. What the fuck? What has Melody done? What did Ella make her do? The possibilities race around my head, each of them more vicious than the last. Did Hannah get too close? Did Ella? I didn't see any more bandages. I didn't notice a limp. But it would make sense if Melody hurt Ella somehow… perhaps that's why she lost her cool.
I smirk. Good. Melodyisraising hell. And I can't wait to tell her how proud I am. I knew Ella couldn't break her. I knew Hannah wouldn't get under her skin. She's stronger than either of those women, and I can't wait to hold her in my arms. Bury my face into her neck and whisper words of praise into her ear.
As soon as I hear the metallicclunkof the door down the hall, I leap off the bed and throw the mattress again. The screw waits for me. The head protrudes not even a centimeter but with the knowledge that Melody is terrorizing Ella? I can doanything. My palms are bone-dry, and I grip the head, gently twisting it with bated breath.
Itmoves.
Faster and faster, the screw inches out before it falls into my palm. Yes. Yes! I can't help the joyous laugh that bubbles from me, but I slap my hand over my mouth. I don't know if they can hear me. I can't let them know.
The metal slat hasn't moved, though. Pressing down, it creaks, but slides down from the side rail. The other end, unfortunately, is stuck tight.
"Shit." I wiggle the rod again. It slips up and down, but I can't remove it. It's all one solid piece of metal, and I don't think I can break it. Not without drawing attention, anyway. Though if I can't hear the other floors… they can't hear me.
Bracing myself against the side rail, I grip the slat and heave backwards with all of my strength—and the only result is my shoulders hurting. I huff out an exasperated breath, but as my hands leave the metal, ittwists.Exactly like the screw. "My god, I'm an idiot."
Unscrewing the slat is much easier than fiddling with a tiny flathead screw. Within moments, the slat falls into my hand, and I bark out a laugh. I have a fuckingweapon. It's blunt, but it's long. Swinging it around like a baseball bat, my chest fills with hope. I have a weapon. And I can fight back.
A low rumbling wakes me from my sleep. I bolt upright, clutching the metal rod to my chest. I don't know what time of day it is—the light stays on no matter what. Peering around nervously, I see that everything is mostly as it was before I fell asleep. There is only one notable difference: the back wall is damp, and a small pool of water gathers on the floor.
Thunder cracks and shakes the walls, reverberating through the metal bed frame. I hiss out a sigh. It's just a storm. There must be windows somewhere. I wish I could see it. I wish I could see the outside world. I'd give damn near anything to see the rushing wind and pouring rain.
Stilling, I listen intently for something. Anything. Ever so faintly, I hear the sound of whistling wind. I carefully creep out of bed and run my hand along the exterior wall. If I can justfeelit, if I can feel the wind, even a tiny puff… it'll make the storm more real.
The leaking water is cold against my hand, and I press my face against the wall. Water. Dirty rainwater, but it's real. It's cold and it's wet and it'sreal.
I'm still real.
A metal-against-metal clunk from the door has my heart pounding in my chest. I scurry back to my bed and hide the metal rod under the mattress.
"Dante!" Ella calls. "Are you decent?"
A chorus of laughter—a male's laugh, someone unfamiliar—echoes down the hall. My anxiety spikes. The Nephilim is here. Another piercing clap of thunder accompanies their footsteps, and I curse under my breath. I sit on the edge of the bed, keeping one hand pressed firmly into the mattress and the other on my knee. I stare at the cell bars.
"Well, look at this." A tall man in a white suit stands beside Ella, who's smiling so hard her cheeks look strained. The man is paler than I am—nearly paper white. He has blonde hair slicked back in a low ponytail and icy blue eyes. He appraises me with mild disgust, his thin lip curled over large teeth. "You did it."
"I did!" Ella snickers. She keeps a respectful distance from the man, beaming and flicking her gaze between him and me. "I got his wife, too."
"Really? Are we meeting her next?" He sounds almost disinterested. The Nephilim has a vaguely European accent, perhaps Scandinavian? I can't quite place it.
"Oh—would you like to? Of course, that can be arranged. It's no trouble. In fact, I insist!" Ella simpers.
"Why not, huh?" He tosses a manicured hand into the air.
