In the arms of two sins

Chapter 39

Maras POV

His grip was iron.

Before I could twist away, he hauled me up, my scream tearing loose as my body was thrown over his shoulder. My stomach slammed against his back, the air punched from my lungs.

“Let me go!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Let me go!”

He didn’t answer.

My fists pounded uselessly against him as he carried me past the phone booth, past the only chance I’d had. The stairs came too fast, my head jolting with every step as he climbed, unmoved by my struggle.

The door slammed open.

Then I was thrown.

My body hit the floor hard, pain exploding through my side. I cried out, curling instinctively, but a hand grabbed my jaw before I could move away.

Fingers dug in, forcing my face up until I was staring straight at him. His face was twisted with something ugly.

Hatred.

“Try that again,” he said quietly, his breath hot against my skin, “and I won’t care what she ordered. I’ll make you wish you never woke up.”

My heart hammered so violently I thought it might break my ribs.

“Enough,” another voice snapped. “The boss said she stays untouched.”

He hesitated, jaw clenched, fingers tightening painfully before he shoved me away. My head hit the floor again, stars bursting behind my eyes.

“We won’t say a word to her ” one of them said. “We don’t tell her she had tried to escape.”

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But she doesn’t eat. That's her punishment.”

No one argued.

Hands grabbed my legs, yanking them straight.

Rope burned against my skin as it was pulled tight, too tight. I gasped, a sharp cry slipping out as pain sliced through me. Something warm trickled down my ankle.

Blood.

Then my wrists were bound again, rough and unforgiving. The blindfold followed, plunging me back into darkness.

“Move and it'll be your end,” someone said and they all Left. The door slammed shut.

I lay there, shaking.

Every inch of me hurt, my legs screaming, my wrists numb, my throat tight with sobs I refused to let out. I bit down on my lip until I tasted iron, tears spilling silently anyway.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t fight.

Please, my mind whispered, clinging to names like lifelines.

David. Elias. Anyone.

Voices drifted in from outside the room, careless, unguarded.

“She thinks she’s special,” I could tell from the voice it was the one who hated me that had talked. “Like the world won’t chew her up.”

“Drop it,” another replied. “She’s just leverage.”

“No,” he snapped. “I hate that she bears the Lawson's name.”

There was a pause.

“She reminds me of everything my sister went through because of them.” he continued, voice low and raw. “And I won't stop until her death ia avenged.”

My breath hitched.

Is that why he looks at me with disgust.

My chest tightened painfully.

That was why.

That was why his hands shook when he touched me.

Why his voice trembled with fury.

Why he looked at me like I was already guilty.

But I’m not her, I wanted to say.

I didn’t do this.

The words stayed trapped in my throat.

Footsteps faded. The voices disappeared.

I was alone again.

Time blurred after that—pain, darkness, shallow breaths. My body throbbed, my legs burning where the rope cut too deep. I curled inward as much as I could, tears slipping free despite my resolve.

I thought of the phone booth.

The call that almost went through.

I had dialed David's number again before I ran.

If only he'd notice.

If only he'll hear my voice.

I clung to that thought like a prayer.

Please, I begged silently, exhaustion pulling at me.

Find me.

Morning came without light.

I knew it only because the silence changed.

The door opened without warning.

I flinched at the sound alone.

Footsteps entered—measured, unhurried. Not the heavy boots of the men who watched me. These were lighter. Deliberate. Someone who didn’t need to rush.

Then I smelled it.

Perfume.

Soft. Feminine. Expensive.

The scent moved closer, wrapping around me, invading my lungs until my chest tightened.

A chair scraped softly.

Someone sat.

I waited for a voice.

When it came, it wasn’t real.

It was smooth, distorted—auto-toned, as if hiding the identity but I could tell it was feminine.

I clenched my fingers, nails biting into my palms.

“You were never the target.” she finally said. “You lived quietly. You grieved. You followed the path laid out for you. That was acceptable.”

My throat tightened.

“But then, you became visible when you started asking questions. Philip's death was not meant to be revisited.”

My pulse hammered painfully in my ears.

“And it seems Elias doesn’t want to stop digging either,” she added smoothly. “He should stop too… or maybe he’ll be the next after Philip.”

My chest constricted sharply, breath catching. I would feel the shake in my hands

“I see how far he’s willing to find you. The rules he’s breaking.”

She paused, letting the weight of it settle.

“Let’s see if he finds you.”

A chill crawled down my spine, and tears soaking my blindfold.

“It’s quite interesting,” she continued, a soft laugh slipping through the distortion, “that he harbors feelings for his brother's wife. I’ve never heard of that before.”

Her amusement felt sharp and cruel.

“How intimate you both were during the anniversary,” she added lightly.

Cold fear flooded my veins.

She had been there.

How did she know? No one entered the mansion. No one was supposed to see.

“Hope you loved my gift to Elias at the anniversary,” she said.

My breath shook.

She was the one that had tampered with the Chandler.

“Who are you?” I stammered. “What do you want from us?”

There was a brief silence.

Then she answered calmly, almost gently.

“Knowing me would cost you your life. I wouldn’t ask that question if I were you.”

The chair shifted. She stood.

I held my breath, my body frozen, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs as the scent of her perfume lingered, long after the door closed.