The Untouchables(122)

“Declan.”

“Adriana, Liam. Adriana is the mole. I’ll send the video to your phone.”





MELODY

“Agh…” I moaned. I still felt like I was spinning, and there was a horrible taste in the back of my throat. Nelson sat on the other end of the tea table, which had nothing but sweets on it. The rest of the room was about the size of my closet back home; it didn’t make sense, it was designed for adults but covered in small dolls.

“Where’s Aviela?”

“Most likely calling your right-hand woman. Adriana, right? Did you know she was the reason I got a position on your jet?” He leaned back in his chair. “No, you wouldn’t have known that. Your mother outsmarted you in every way, and you can’t even be a nice little girl for her.”

This motherfucker.

“Look who found his balls.”

“I never lost them! Do you remember this?” he asked, lifting the stained white jacket I had given him the very first time we met.

But I wouldn’t waste my breath on him.

“When you threw this at my face like I was less than human, it took all of my control not to put a bullet in you right then and there.” He pulled a gun out from behind him, placing it on the tea table. “You told me to give it to my sister not knowing it was your drugs that killed her!”

“People die everyday, I don’t force them to take the things they do.”

“Don’t play coy with me!” he yelled. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this day. You destroyed my family. She was doing so well, and then you had to tempt her with your new shit. They were so fucking strong, she lost it. You fucking killed her!”

“Your family destroyed itself. Don’t blame me because your sister lacked self-control! Would you threaten McDonald’s because you ate their food and got high blood pressure? Now please, get out of my fucking face, you little prick.” My head felt as though it was going to explode.

“I thought you’d say that. You have no fucking shame,” he hissed, pulling out the same syringe Aviela had used. “I wonder how much fucking self-control you’ll have left. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging for it.”

Again I pulled on the cuffs; they were weaker. Five days of pulling had started to wear them out. But before I could do anything, he held my arm down.

“Think wisely, Nelson,” I said. “I will break free and—”

“Shut up!” His fist connected with my cheek. “You’re full of nothing but hot fucking air.”

“Don’t.”

But he didn’t listen. Once again, the needle found its way into my vein, and once again I felt euphoria. Biting my lip, I tried to ignore the colors in my eyes, the pleasure flowing through my body.

He pulled my hair back, smiling only an inch from my face. “What was it that you called my sister, a crack-whore?”

He stroked the side of my face with his gun as if I were his pet, and even brushed back my hair with his other hand. “How do you feel?”

Throwing my head forward, I smashed it against his nose.

“FUCK!” he screamed, holding onto his nose. The best thing about being so fucking high was that nothing hurt and I felt invincible. So even when I should have stopped as the cuff dug into my skin, I pulled hard against them and for the first time in five days I managed to free my wrist. I wish I could have said the same for my ankles.

He turned as blood dripped down his nose, but before he could point his gun in my direction, I grabbed the fork on the table and stabbed him as hard as I could. I thrust the fork so hard into his arm that the only reason it stopped was because it hit bone. He dropped the gun, reached over and clawed at my hands trying in vain to pull the fork out; a feat I was sure his scrawny ass would never accomplish.

“You little bitch!” He reached for my hair again, but I pulled the fork from his arm, causing him to scream before I stabbed him in the shoulder. This time, I didn’t linger in one place too long. I stabbed him over and over, and his blood splattered across my face until his knees buckled, forcing him to kneel before me. He held onto his neck, trying to stop the river of blood that was soaking his shirt.

“You should have walked away!” Pulling the fork out one last time, I drove it into his throat. “You should have never fucking crossed me, bitch. Scream and you’ll bleed out faster.”

Pushing him out of my face, he fell onto the floor. He looked like a fish out of water, trying to breathe, yet drowning in his own blood. I had no idea how much time I had. Aviela came to me every night to read, smack, or insult me, depending on how she was feeling.