by Ella Miles
It’s the one question I still don’t have an answer to. My time with him has taught me everything else. The guards to trust, and those who are loyal to Milo. The layout of his mansion and the secret passageways underneath. The security system he uses and how many guards are hidden outside. I know everything. Everything except why he holds a grudge against me. Everything except how many enemies of mine he has ready to fight if he asks. I know everything but the most important things.
We arrive at Surrender, and to my surprise, Milo doesn’t have me tied up. Maybe he thinks it would cause more damage to my shoulders if he did. Instead, he has his men surround me, guarding me as we walk into my club.
As soon as we enter, the room falls silent. All of the men stare at us, and glare at Milo. Some men salute me or lower their hats in respect for me. One man even bows as if I’m a king. It melts my insides to know that despite everything, my men still believe I’m their leader. What would happen if Milo were to become Black? How many would follow him? How many would revolt and die fighting him?
If Milo wins, I need to find a way to keep the employees safe—I owe them that.
We walk to my office and step inside. At first, I can’t see who is in the room. The men surrounding me block my view with their bodies. But then, Kai comes into view.
Her hair is braided down her back, she’s not wearing any makeup, and wears a curve-hugging black shirt and leather pants I’m pretty sure belong to Liesel. She looks fierce and unstoppable.
She keeps her face stoic and unchanging when I walk into the room. As if her heart isn’t breaking all over again. But I can hear the change in her heartbeat. I can feel the change from warm to cool in the air. I can see the change in her breathing from slow to rapid.
We are the only two people who exist in this moment even though the room is crowded. And I can see the moment she realizes I’m hurt. She can sense me as easily as I can feel her.
Her pupils dilate in anger for a split second, but I’m the only one who notices. She stares at my shoulders as if she can see through my shirt to the pain masked by the drugs.
She grits her teeth to keep from growling. And I know she wants to run and attack Milo for what he did to me.
She glances his way for a second, as she lets her shield down to me. And I finally feel all of her pain. She hurts for me, but she mourns her own loss too. The loss of carrying a child. She confirmed her truth. She can’t have a baby. And she hasn’t found a blood relative she can make her heir.
Her hope is lost.
And it makes me crazy.
Finally, the connection we share is severed as I notice the other two people standing next to her—Langston and Liesel. Both are dressed just as fiercely as Kai, as if they are ready to do battle alongside her.
I smile, thinking back to the first game, where everyone was on my side, and no one was on Kai’s. I prefer it this way, even if it would make it easier if she just bowed down and let me win. She can’t become Black, even if she wins every game left. The rules demand an heir. And she can’t produce one.
Just let me win so we can end this as quickly as possible.
All of their eyes focus on Milo, giving him various shades of glaring, growling, and snickering.
“Does he really need to be here?” Liesel points to Milo as she talks to Archard.
“Each competitor is allowed to bring whoever they want to watch the competition,” Archard says.
Liesel crosses her arms as she stares at Milo. “No one wants you here.”
Milo leans into her, “Your nipples disagree.”
Liesel’s nipples are pointed, but it’s just because the room is so cold from Kai being in it. I know Kai doesn’t have any magical powers, but somehow she always brings the cold chill she always carries with her wherever she goes.
Liesel won’t let a comment like that go, “It would be the last thing your cock ever did.”
Milo jolts forward as if he’s going to hit her for her comment, but Liesel stands her ground and just raises her eyebrow. Langston jumps forward, ready to fight Milo.
Archard clears his throat, dissipating the almost fight.
“If you are all ready, I’d like to read the rules of the next game,” he says.
Everyone quiets and faces him.
“This is the third game. Currently, you are both tied one to one. As this is the third game, Mr. Miller, Kai’s father, was the one who set the rules.”
We all nod as he drags out what the game is.
“Mr. Miller believed that the person who becomes Black needed to have the strength to face any amount of pain and do it with compassion, humility, and beauty. You need to be able to withstand torture without breaking. Pain without losing yourself. But above all, do the right thing.”
I can’t look at Kai as Archard speaks, because this is already sounding like this game is going to be my own personal hell.
“What are the rules, old man? How many rounds of torture does each have to endure to win? Does one of them have to surrender for the other to win? Because we already know who will be surrendering,” Milo says giving Kai a dirty look.
Archard glares at Milo, not willing to take his crap. “Only the two competitors are allowed to ask questions. If you speak again, you will be removed.”
Milo huffs but shuts up.
“As I was saying, this game is about withstanding torture and pain with grace. I will not share how many rounds of torture there are or what each round will include, but each round will become more painful and difficult to bear. The game ends when one of you surrenders.”
Fuck, Mr. Miller, he’s more twisted than my own father. That’s why he had Kai kidnapped, so she was prepared to deal with pain. So she could win this round. She learned to lock away her pain. She can withstand any torture.
My father taught me to handle pain as well, but Kai is better at it. And I will have to watch her being tortured. It will kill me. The torture won’t be physical for me. The drugs will mask any pain I feel. I’m usually good at handling pain, but this will make it even harder. My weakness is Kai. If she shows any amount of pain, I will lose it.
“Each of you must choose a teammate who will carry out the torture of the other competitor,” Archard says.
Kai’s eyes meet Langston’s. She would never ask Liesel to do it, even though it might hurt me more to have Liesel torturing me. Langston nods.
“Langston,” Kai says, sucking in a breath.
“Good,” Archard says, turning to me.
I close my eyes because I already know who my only choice is, and I can’t do it. I can’t make her suffer that way, even if it might be my only chance of winning.
Milo clears his throat, and then he whispers in my ear. “If you don’t win, I will hurt Kai.”
He won’t. Langston and I won’t let him, but it’s enough to push me into saying my choice. “Milo, I choose Milo.”
Kai’s eyes burn into mine. Milo is going to be the one to end this game early. And I don’t know if Milo is going to break Kai or me. Because the pain will intensify as Milo is the one who is carrying out the torture, but the pain at watching him touch her will explode my own suffering.
Either way, I’m screwed.
11
Kai
The second I saw Enzo I could fully breathe again. The kind of breath that fills your lungs and energizes your body with new hope.
But then I saw the damage. I felt the extra heat pulsing through his body before I figured out where the pain was coming from.
And I wanted to kill Milo, more than I did before. I wanted to destroy him. Make him pay with his life for laying a finger on my man.
Enzo was supposed to be safe. Milo needed him to take over the Black empire, but apparently, he didn’t care to not hurt him in the process.
Both of Enzo’s shoulders are damaged. And I want to run over to him, put my arms around his, and drag his ass as far away from these people as possible.
Instead, I’m about to play the most twisted
game of all.
Thank you, father.
I exhale deeply. I can do this.
But I can’t. I can’t watch Enzo being tortured knowing he’s already in pain. The game isn’t how much can I withstand torture, because I can indefinitely, it’s how much can I watch the man I love being beaten.
“Torture is killing each other slowly, death by a thousand cuts,” Archard reads from a paper in front of him. “So before each round the tormenter will get to stab once into their victim at the place of their choosing.” Archard produces one small knife and hands it to Milo.
“Each round will alternate who goes first. Kai is first this round,” Archard continues.
I feel Milo walking over to me with his knife in hand as Langston walks toward Enzo. Liesel is still standing on my left side, and I hear her tiny gasp as Milo pushes the blade into my shoulder without any warning.
I don’t flinch. Instead, my eyes bare into Enzo’s. There were hundreds of more painful places Milo could have stabbed me, but he chose the place Enzo was already hurt so I could remember what he did to Enzo and what pain he is in.
My eyes flicker to Langston, and I beg him to go easy on Enzo. I need him to go easy if I want a chance at winning.
Langston presses his knife into Enzo's thigh through his jeans, and when he pulls the knife, I see how little damage he has done and exhale.
Jesus, I’m not going to survive this.
It was just a tiny nick, Enzo didn’t flinch. He didn’t feel it any more than I did.
I feel sick to my stomach though. And I hate my father even more than I ever thought possible.
Milo snickers behind my shoulder. He’s going to use my hatred for Milo against me. I can’t let him win.
“Now that we got the formalities out of the way, it’s time for the first round. Remember each round will get more difficult and that at any time if you would like to stop, just say so, and the game is over,” Archard says.
I nod. Enzo just stares at Archard.
“The first round will test your ability to be alone without food or water. You will each be hidden in a room of your tormentor’s choosing. I will not tell you how long you will be in the room, but it will be long enough to test both of your willpowers,” Archard says. He looks to Milo. “Milo please take your prisoner to a dark room of your choosing. It must be in Miami, otherwise, there are no rules. Once you have selected your place, then Langston can choose his place.”
Milo grins and grabs my wrist forcibly. “My pleasure.”
Damn, why does his touch burn so much? Am I ever going to get over the feeling of a single touch like this?
But what hurts worse is being pulled away from Enzo. This first round will be nothing for either of us. It will barely cause either of us pain. We are used to being alone, and going without food or water is as easy as breathing for us. But my solace, and my punishment, was that we would complete each round in front of each other. This is the easiest round, and instead of getting to enjoy our time together, breathing the same air, and sending silent messages to each other, we will spend it apart.
“Come on whore,” Milo says, tightening his grip. I don’t notice if men are following us, and I have no idea where Milo will take me. But I find myself tripping over my feet as we stumble downstairs.
My eyes widen at the small roomed cells beneath the building. “How did you know this was here?”
“Because every bad man has a cell where he keeps the enemies he has to torture.”
He tosses me inside roughly, and I fall to the dirt floor. I watch his eyes turn a dark red before he slams the door on my face.
Milo is going to enjoy every second of this game too much. There is something seriously wrong with him.
I stand up and dust myself off, taking in my surroundings. There isn’t much in the room Milo has chosen for me. The room is made of thick wooden walls. The floor is dirt, and that ends my tour of the room. There is no furniture, no comforting items, nothing.
I sit down and lean against one of the wooden walls. When I rest my hand against the dirt, I find a rock—entertainment.
I smile as I toss the rock in the air, seeing how high I can toss it and still catch it. I try to focus on the rock instead of missing Enzo. That’s how I’ll pass the first hours. And then when that gets tiring, I’ll sleep. I’m a master at sleeping on a hard floor with an ache in my belly. That’s what I did every day for six years. I know this round won’t last anywhere near that long.
A door creaks outside, and my ears perk up, listening carefully to the sound.
“You can’t lock him in there,” Milo says.
“I can too. You chose your prison cell; now, I get to choose mine. And I choose this one,” Langston says.
“Then I would like to change the cell for Kai,” Milo says.
“You have already selected, Milo. Now Langston gets to select. You can’t change your spot. Now I suggest everyone go home and get some sleep; this is going to be a long game,” Archard says.
I hear a door lock shut and then footsteps retreating.
Could it be?
As soon as the footsteps stop making their way up the stairs, I run to the wall next to mine. “Enzo?” I ask, cautiously hopeful. I try to keep my heart from speeding up at the thought of spending the night next to Enzo. Being able to hear his voice would be a gift, even though I can’t see or touch him.
“You hanging in there, stingray?” Enzo says back.
I sigh into the wall as my heart beats to incredible speeds.
“Your heart is beating so fast,” he says against the wall.
“Because of you.”
“I know. Mine is just as fast.”
I smile. “I can’t do this. I can’t watch you get hurt—”
“Shh, let’s not talk about the game. Let’s just enjoy the time we have together.”
“How do your shoulders feel?” I ask.
“Milo had me stitched up by the best doctors. I don’t think I’ll drop dead from an infection or anything,” Enzo tries to tease, but I can’t joke at a time like this.
My tongue wags around in my mouth as I contemplate what I’m going to say next. “How has he treated you, other than your shoulders?”
“In a cell better than this. He lets me out to exercise and feeds me well. I’d say he treats me as well as any owner would treat their prized racehorse.”
“What did you do to make him change and hurt you?”
A pause. “It doesn’t matter. How has Langston been treating you?”
“Like a princess. Although, do him and Liesel have a thing for each other?”
Enzo chuckles. “Those two have too much sexual tension between them. But I always thought their hate for each other is what made them keep their hands to themselves. That and Liesel was always too hung up on me to act on any feelings toward any other man.”
“They haven’t acted on their feelings, and I think that is the problem. They haven’t stopped fighting.”
“About what?”
I pause considering but answer honestly. “About you.”
The silence hangs in the air.
“Are you not going to talk to me now?” I ask.
“Langston wasn’t supposed to try and save me. He was supposed to keep you safe—he promised.”
“And he kept that promise to keep me safe. He won’t risk letting me get hurt to save you. He just wanted to consider if there was any way to save you while keeping me safe. Don’t worry, you martyr, he found no option.”
I can hear Enzo exhale on the other side of the door and realize telling each other what has happened lately isn't helping.
“Play truth or lies with me,” I say.
“Why? So you can try to extract more information out of me?”
“No, so we can enjoy what little time we have left together. I don’t want to play anything serious. Just ridiculous facts that neither of us know about each other.”
“Fine,” he says like he’s sulking, but I can feel his
smile from here.
“I’ll start. Truth or lie? I have a tattoo.”
He laughs. “Lie. You forget, I have seen and explored your naked body many times. But I definitely like this game, if it’s going to let me think about your naked body more.”
I laugh. “Actually…it’s the truth.”
“What? I don’t believe you. I’ve never seen a tattoo.”
“It’s on the back of my neck, but it’s so small I doubt you would have seen it.”
“What is it of?” I ask.
“It was supposed to be of a wave, but all the tattoo artist got was a thin line before I couldn’t take the pain anymore and jumped out of his chair.”
“You couldn’t handle the pain? Really? You expect me to believe that?”
“I was fourteen and didn’t like needles.”
This cracks him up. His laughs carry throughout the entire dungeon. “Well, hopefully, your father didn’t include an activity involving needles.”
I laugh, even though now the thought of getting a tattoo doesn’t even register on my pain scale. Maybe someday, I’ll go back and finish that tattoo. “Your turn.”
His chuckles slowly drift away, and I realize how much I wish our life was so different. I wish we could just live on his yacht, and I could come up with funny stories to make him laugh.
“Truth or lie: I’ve never had ice cream,” he says.
“You’ve never had ice cream?!”
He chuckles. “Truth or lie?”
“That has to be a lie.”
“Truth—my father didn’t believe in letting me enjoy any pleasures in life that weren’t good for me. And I never thought to try the stuff as an adult.”
“When this is all over, we are getting you some freaking ice cream.”
I can feel his grin reach his eyes at that. He doesn’t say there is a good chance we will never get out of here together. And that makes me happy. Maybe he has more hope than I thought.
“Your turn,” he says.
“I punched a boy when I was five.”
