Chapter 3

Madeleine

I wake up in a strange room. The air is fresh, quiet, and bright.

I’m alive?

The bed beneath me is softer than anything I’ve slept on in years, and the faint smell of cedar and leather clings to the air.

My body feels heavy. My limbs ache as though I’ve been run over by a bus. My throat is dry, and it feels as if someone stuffed my head full of cotton.

The first thing I hear are muffled voices right outside the door, droning in the background like a distant thunderstorm.

“I can’t tell you what the long term consequences will be,” someone says in a cool, clinical voice. “ It is likely that there might be lasting damage to her nervous system.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Rafael’s voice is low, soft, but no less commanding. 

“No. The dosage was extremely high. Frankly, Sir, I’m surprised she is still alive.” 

“Do everything you can for her.”

The world swims in and out of focus, nausea pushes up in my throat, and I think I pass out. When I manage to drag my eyelids apart again, the sun is a little brighter, setting the dark wood furniture aglow in a golden hue.

Something shifts on the edge of my vision. I gasp and turn my head in that direction.

It’s Dom.

Still dizzy, I relax and stare at him. I can't believe he's here.

He’s sitting beside the bed, leaning back in a wingback chair with one ankle resting on his knee. 

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

I try to push myself up, but my arms give out. My head spins, and I fall back against the pillows, a soft groan escaping my lips.

“Take it easy,” he orders, and gets to his feet.

He pours a glass of water from a crystal carafe on the bedside table. I try to take the glass, but he won’t let me. Instead, he lifts me up and holds the tumbler to my lips.

I must be in heaven. Or it’s the best dream I’ve ever had.

“Where…” I manage a soft rasp. I clear my throat and try again. “Where am I?”

“In a safe place,” he replies vaguely.

But even as the more rational part of myself revolts against his words, another part of me believes him.

“You saved me?” I ask.

“Yes.” He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “What were you even doing in a place like that? You are lucky I was there, or you’d be dead now.” 

He gives me a smile that I’m almost familiar with, and it takes me back to the old days.

I can’t believe my luck. I can’t believe that I get to see him again. The only light in my bleak life. 

Then a woman’s desperate cries, high and raw, rips the air apart. She screams and screams. It slowly dies down, turning into a wet gurgle. I can hear nothing else but the pain she’s enduring. 

I flinch and turn to Dom. I need to escape here with him. He’s too kind, too good for this place. It’s far too dangerous for him to be here. 

And then I see his face, unmoved and undisturbed by the scream.

A giant wake-up call sobers me. This is not him. He's not my Dom.

Memories of the night before flood back. Rafael Andoletti telling me to drink the wine. The scarred man with his gun. The poison burning a hole through my body.

Dom never existed. It has always been him - Rafael Andoletti

Oh God, why can’t you give one good thing? I don’t ask for much. I never even asked you to give me the on thing that made me so happy. I just wanted it to be real. To have something good, something untainted, in my life.

“What was that?” I ask, my voice shaking.

Rafael barely reacts. He takes a step back, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

But I can’t stop hearing it, the terror in that voice. “Who was it?”

He looks at me, his dark eyes unwavering. “The girl… from last night. The one with the red hair.”

I blink, the words not registering at first. “What?”

“That’s what happens to people who cross me,” he explains in that infuriatingly calm voice. “She’s the one who poisoned our drinks… and then she tried to pin it on you.”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “That’s not true. She… she helped me. She even tried to defend me.”

“She used you.” Rafael's voice is tinged with cold anger. “She’s done it before.”

The earth feels like it’s crumbling beneath me. That can’t be true. The warmth in her voice, her kind smile, her vehement attempt to protect me. Was it all just an act?

“What are you doing to her?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know.

“Me? I’m not doing anything,” Rafael replies, his voice hardening. “I’m here with you.”

His words send a chill down my spine - I forgot that there’s a monster behind the mask.

I need to get out of here.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the blanket slipping off as I do. My skirt pulls all the way up my legs, revealing the top of my thigh to Rafael, and before I can adjust my clothes, his voice cuts through the oppressive silence that suddenly hangs in the air.

“Stop.”

I freeze, my heart pounding as I follow his gaze. His eyes are fixed on my right thigh, his expression darkening.

“What’s that?”

My stomach drops. The faint circular marks left by the cilice stand out starkly against my pale skin. The bruises are fading, but I never allow them to vanish completely. I always go back to make them bloom again. The pain is a constant reminder that my soul is on the line.

“It’s nothing,” I say quickly, yanking the skirt over my thighs to hide my shame.

“Who did that to you?” he demands, his voice low but laced with steel.

“No one,” I stammer, avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps, stepping closer. He looms over me, his very presence robbing the air from my lungs.

“I’m not,” I say. I’ve never told anyone the truth about my bruises. It should feel heavier, more shameful, but somehow, it doesn’t.

His jaw tightens, his tone softening, though it’s no less dangerous. “You don’t belong in this world. You are going to get yourself killed.”

Something in his tone - pity, mixed with just the slightest bit of disgust - makes my chest tighten with anger.

“You don’t know anything about me,” I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I don’t need your help. I’ve been doing just fine without you for almost a year now.”

His lips curl into smirk. A cold, humourless sneer that chills me to the bone. “Are you sure about that, Sister Francis?”

The use of my old name hits me like a slap, knocking the wind out of me.

“You forgot about me, Sister Francis,” he says in a soft, almost menacing tone, “but I never forgot you.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on me, the walls pressing closer with every second. My past - the one thing I’ve tried so hard to hide - is staring me in the face. And it came to me in the guise of Rafael Andoletti.

No! No, no no. I can’t be here. I can’t do this.

Like a prey animal trapped by a hunter, I wildly look around, searching for an escape.

I find the exit. It’s not even hidden. It was right in front of me all along. I don’t think. I just run.

I stumble to the door, wrenching it open and bolting into the hall. I am still in the casino, in the upstairs suite reserved for the VIP guests.

My vision blurs as I race down the corridor, Rafael’s voice echoing behind me. “You can’t run from me Sister Francis. I’ll always find you.”

I dash from the casino, not even stopping to get my belongings, and barefoot make my way through the awakening city. People automatically part to make way for me, some even call out, asking me if I need help.

But I ignore them. I have to get home.

By the time I reach my apartment, I’m gasping for breath. My hands shake as I fumble for the spare key I hide under the mat.

When I finally burst inside, the silence is deafening.

“Betsy?” I call, my voice rising with panic.

No answer.

I dash through the tiny apartment, searching every room, every hiding place, every closet, my heart pounding harder with each step, tears streaming down my face.

Where is she? Where did she go? She knows she’s not allowed to leave the apartment without me.

Yesterday’s argument returns to haunt me like a bad dream. Nonono, she didn’t. She wouldn’t.

“Betsy!” I scream, my voice breaking.

But she’s gone.