The last straw that broke the camel's back

ALINA

I tried to savage as much as I could from the burnt bills, but they had all been burned to ashes. One million dollars gone in a flash, taking my fucking freedom with it.  

My shoulder throbbed, and my ribs ached with every breath I took. Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed silently, afraid of James hearing me. I didn't really know what I was crying about. Was it the pain from the burn or the burnt money? Or both?

I stayed on the floor for a long time, mourning my ill fate before I got up. 

I didn't clean the mess immediately as he asked me to. Instead, I crawled to the kitchen, dragging my left arm because moving my right shoulder was agony. I turned on the cold tap and stuck my burned skin under the stream. I bit hard on my lower lip until I tasted more blood to keep from screaming.

I reached for the first aid kit under the washbasin and slathered the burn with antibiotic cream before I wrapped it clumsily with gauze. My hands shook as I tried not to think of the new amount he'd asked me to get if I wanted my freedom.

Thirty million, he'd said. And we'll talk.

But I knew that was a freaking lie. James didn't want thirty million, and he sure as hell didn't want divorce papers. He wanted me to know that I was caged. That my body, my life and my pitiful scraps of hope belonged to him until he grew tired of them. And I knew that might never happen. If James wanted to release me, he would have done so a fucking long time ago. 

With my wound cleaned, I walked back to the sitting room. Each step I took sent fire through my ribs. I cleaned the room slowly. When I was done, I limped back to my room. 

James stayed locked in his room, and I couldn't be more grateful for it. I couldn't tell what I would have done if he wanted to have sex with me. I wouldn't refuse him. He would only hurt me more if I tried.

I removed the gauze I placed on my wound before I went into the bathroom. I had the fastest bath known to werewolves before I exited, with my robe wrapped securely around my body. 

The second I sat, my eyes went to the business card I'd tossed yesterday. I got up and reached for it. Sitting back on the bed, I turned the card in my hand. 

He said he'd pay 50 million euros just for three months. That was more than enough to get out of this hellhole, but at what sacrifice?

What if I ended up falling from the frying pan straight into the fire? 

I turned the card over in my fingers.

Who the fuck is this Raphael, really? What did he want from me that was worth that kind of money? No one paid fifty million for just sex. And to think it was for just three months? What if it was a trap?

Better the devil you know than the angel you don't. Even though Raphael showed up like a knight in shining armour, the offer was too good to be true.

I stared at the card once more before I tossed it onto the nightstand. 

Steer clear, I told myself, pulling the covers up to my chin even though the movement made my shoulder scream. 

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to sleep, but every time I started to drift, I saw the flames eating the money. 

---

I woke to the sound of James's door slamming open, and my stomach dropped. Fuck. Did I oversleep????!

“Alina!” He screamed. “Where the fuck is my breakfast?”

I scrambled out of bed, biting back a whimper as my shoulder protested. My ribs sent lightning through my torso, but I ignored it. I grabbed the first clothes I could find and limped to the kitchen.

He was already sitting at the table, looking as murderous as hell when I came in. I gulped. 

Fuck. 

This isn't good. I'd never woken up as late as I did today. I always woke up before him and made sure I made breakfast before he woke.

He gave me a once-over and clicked his tongue on his teeth. “I want eggs, bacon, and pancakes for breakfast,” he said. 

"Okay, sir!"  Grateful that he wasn't that pissed about me waking up late, I moved as fast as I could. I'd never made breakfast in such a short time before. With his breakfast ready, I placed it on the tray and brought it into the dining room.

He frowned when he saw the food. “What's this?” He poked at the eggs with his finger. “Why's it cold?” 

“It's not —”

He backhanded me before I could finish. Gasping in shock, I stumbled onto the counter, knocking a coffee mug to the floor. It shattered.

“Clean that up,” he ordered as he took a bite of the supposed cold eggs. “Then make it again. Properly this time.”

I went down on my knees immediately to gather the ceramic shards so I could rush off to make another batch of eggs for him. Engrossed with what I was doing, I didn't notice him stand until he pressed his boot down on my burned shoulder.

A scream tore out of my throat before I could stop it.

“You're useless,” he spat, grinding his heel. “Can't even make breakfast, bear children, or even fucking shift!” He leaned down. “What are you good for, Alina? Tell me. What is the point of you?”

Tears blurred my eyes as I bit back another scream of pain. I drew in a breath. “Nothing,” I whispered. “I'm worthless.”

“That's right.” He lifted his boot, and I gasped as I collapsed forward. “Now get up and do it again. And if you burn any of them, I'll burn you.”

I made the breakfast three times. Each time, he found something wrong. It was either too salty or too bland. And each time, there was a punishment. He either used his fist or his knee. At one point, he even gripped my hair until it felt like he was trying to pull it from my scalp. 

By the time he finished eating, my lip was split again.

He stood up, stretched, and walked toward me. I flinched when he stopped in front of me. 

“I'll return late tonight, so don't bother with dinner. I have a business meeting.” He grabbed his keys and left, whistling.

I stood in the kitchen for a long time before I moved. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I walked back to my room. Even though I'd told myself last night that this was a terrible decision, it sounded like the only sensible thing to do at the moment. 

I picked up the business card from the nightstand and dialled the number.