Chapter 15: Tough Enough To Leave
His breath hit my cheek. That was how close we were. My hand stayed on his wrist and his fingers stayed on the rope. The wood of the chair pressed hard against my back. The bulb over us hummed and swung a little, throwing warm light across his face and then off it again. Behind him the window let in that flat blue.
I could feel his pulse under my palm. Fast. Not controlled. Not the way he'd tried to sound when he asked where my confidence went. For the first time since he pulled the tape off my mouth, I wasn't waiting for him to decide what happened next.
"You asked how tough I am," I said. My voice came out hoarse. Dry throat from breathing through my mouth. I swallowed and kept my eyes on his. "This is it. I don't beg. I don't break for you. I get up and I walk out."
He stared at me. The snake tattoo on the right side of his neck moved when he swallowed. His brows pulled down, not in anger, but like he was trying to hold something in place that was already slipping. His lips parted. He didn't have a line ready.
"Mary," he said.
"Don't," I said. "You wanted to see. You saw it. Now let go."
For a second I thought he wouldn't. His hand tightened on the tan rope where it looped around my ribs. The fibers bit into the light blue fabric of my blazer. Then his fingers loosened. He dropped his gaze to the knot at my side, the one he'd been holding since he leaned in. His thumb worked under it.
He pulled. The rope gave an inch, then another. The pressure around my chest eased. I sucked in air and my ribs hurt where the rope had held them. He unwound the next loop, slow, not looking at my face now. The rope dragged across my blazer with a rough sound. He let the length fall to the floor. It coiled near the chair legs. He reached for the last knot at my waist and tugged it free. The whole thing went slack.
He stepped back half a step, then another full one. His hands hung at his sides. One still held the folded black tape.
I planted my hands on the armrests and pushed. My legs had gone half numb from sitting tied that long. Pins prickled down my calves when I put weight on them. I wobbled. I caught the back of the chair to steady myself. Enzo moved like he was going to reach for me and then stopped himself. He kept his distance. The warm light caught the sweat on his forehead.
The phone was where I'd seen it earlier, on top of the wooden crate three feet behind the chair. My phone, screen dark, case scuffed at the corner the way it had been for months. He'd put it there when he wanted me to know he had it. I walked to it. Each step made the rope brush my ankle where it lay on the concrete. I picked up the phone. It was warm from the bulb above. I pressed the side button. The screen lit. No signal bars inside the metal walls, but the lock screen showed my background, the time 4:47. It was mine again.
I slid it into the pocket of my blazer. The pocket was shallow and the phone pressed against my hip.
"I'm leaving," I said. I didn't make it a question.
Enzo nodded once. His jaw was tight. The light stubble on his face showed in the warm overhead light. He didn't block me. He didn't speak. He just stood there in his black suit jacket and black shirt with the top buttons open, tattoo visible, watching me decide.
The warehouse door was at the far end, past the stacked crates. The blue light from the tall window fell across the concrete floor in a long rectangle, dust floating in it. I walked toward it. My low heels clicked on the concrete. The sound echoed. I didn't look back until I was at the threshold. The door was metal, heavy, cracked open a few inches where daylight came through stronger. I pushed it. The hinges groaned.
May you like
Outside, the air was cool and smelled like damp gravel and distant highway. Late afternoon light hit my face. It made my eyes water. I heard Enzo still inside, not moving. The chair sat empty behind me, the rope piled on the floor beside it.
I stepped out and kept walking. The door didn't swing shut right away. I didn't wait to hear it close.
