Finding Forgiveness

“If you are going to kill me, can you get it over with?” I questioned.

“Oh, no, Blanca. You don’t get that kind of privilege anymore,” he replied. “Come here,” he added tapping his lap.

I hesitated for a moment before slowly walking forwards and perching on his knees.

“You’re going to be my little bitch. You’re gonna do everything I say,” he whispered in his thick Mexican accent into my ear as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “You’re gonna work for me, entertain me, cook for me… can you cook, Blanca?”

“A little,” I replied.

“Good. I wanna try some of your Italian shit. And in doing all of this, you can repay me for all this trouble you’ve caused.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

“Then I will kill you,” he deadpanned. “In an utmost unpleasant, drawn-out manner. So which will it be, Blanca?”

“You leave me little choice,” I replied.

“Excellent,” he chirped before kissing my neck, right where Leo’s mark was. “Now let’s get somewhere that Alpha of yours will never find you.”

Half an hour later, we were back at the airport. Another one of Andrea’s men had driven us and left us. I had no idea where he was taking me, of course, because why would I get to know details like that.

The air in the terminal was thick and hot. Every breath I took of it filled me with an unpleasant warmth that clung to me and suffocated me. My stomach was sickened by the musk that lingered in my nose and when Andrea’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, it lurched.

“Remember, your son is a phone call away before you consider making a scene,” he whispered as we reached the front of the line for the ticket counter. “Don’t think I wouldn’t do it.”

I nodded.

“I think a lot of things about you, Andrea but not once have I underestimated your intentions,” I replied, trying to ignore the nausea from my stomach and the dizziness in my head.

“You think a lot about me? All good I presume?” he said as we approached the woman at the desk.

He turned to her, put on a friendly smile and placed our passports and his credit card on the counter and asked for two tickets to Venezuela. They were speaking in Spanish and I, unfortunately, was unable to catch the airport name. Venezuela was a huge country, I needed a more exact location if I ever manage to contact Leo again. After he had been given the tickets, Andrea held onto mine so I couldn’t read it from there either.

As we approached security, his phone began to ring.

“Que?” he grumbled.

By the sounds of things and by the way his grip was ever tightening on my wrist, he wasn’t particularly happy with whoever was on the receiving end.

I scanned the airport, not for any particular reason. I wasn’t looking to escape, I wasn’t looking for salvation, I wasn’t looking for a plan B. Well not until Cato was safe anyway.

I watched a family, two daughters and a son, rush through the wide hallway. The children skipped and laughed as the parents desperately tried to hustle them to wherever they were going. I then noticed a couple, stood hand in hand looking like they were having the times of their lives. The woman, about my age, noticed me staring and I quickly took my gaze to the floor.

A few moments later, Andrea was finished on the phone. He let out frustrated noises as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Come on,” he growled, gripping my upper arm and dragging me closer to the bag and passport check. Just as we reached the end of the queue I heard footsteps approach us.

“Excuse me, Miss. Are you okay?” a kind voice asked.

I looked up to see the woman from the couple I’d been watching. From her accent, she was clearly American and her eyes were full of concern and agitation.

I opened my mouth to speak but Andrea interrupted me.

“She’s fine,” he said bluntly.

“The blood on her nose-” she began.

“I said she’s fine,” Andrea repeated firmly. He then placed his hand on my back and turned me away from them.

“Go to the restroom and clean yourself then come straight back. I don’t want you drawing any more attention to yourself, understand?” he said quietly in my ear.

I nodded, stepping forward in the direction of the restroom. Before I got far he grabbed my wrist again and pulled me back in.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“And remember what is at stake if you do anything to piss me off,” he added in a deep menacing tone.

I gulped and walked quickly to the restroom. It was empty so I took the opportunity to allow the tears I’d been holding back to fall as I dabbed my nose with a tissue. When I had just about cleaned away all the blood, the door opened and the American woman walked in.

“Are you sure you’re okay, baby? Did that man do this to you?” she asked noticing my tears and rushing up to me.

My eyes flickered to the door. Closed. The walls. Thick. The restroom. Empty.

She placed a hand on my back and I hesitantly nodded, my heart rate rising. Could I be compromising my son’s safety?

“How can I help? Call security? The police?” she questioned.

“No, no, no. Please. You can’t tell anyone. Please don’t tell anyone,” I begged.? “Can I use your phone?”

“Of course,” she said fumbling with the buckle of her handbag and thrusting her phone into my hand.

I quickly dialled Leo’s number as she stepped away from me a little and gave me some privacy.

“Leo, it’s me,” I said as soon as he picked up.

“Ella? Are you okay?-” he began.

“I don’t have much time. Cato is okay and he is on his way home,” I said. “And Andrea is taking me to Venezuela. I don’t know whereabouts or why but he says he isn’t going to kill me yet if I do everything he tells me to do.”

“‘Yet’? What do you mean by ‘yet’?” Leo questioned. “Isn’t going to kill you in the next week, month, year?”

“I don’t know, Leo,” I replied in a sob. “But please don’t come and look for me until Cato is safe. Promise me.”

“Okay, yes. I promise.”

“I have to go. He’ll be wondering where I am,” I said after a little pause.

“This saying goodbye thing isn’t getting any easier,” he answered.

“I love you,” I told him, which appeared to now be the routine.

“I love you too,” he replied before I hung up.

I walked back across the restroom to the woman and handed her her phone.

“Did he see you come in?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said looking worried. “Are you sure I can’t help in any other way?”

“You already have. So very much. Now all you can do is make sure he doesn’t find out that I used your phone and definitely don’t call the police. He has connections with them and it will only put me in more danger,” I replied striding to the door. “Thank you.”