Chapter 10

There’s nothing worse than exhaustion from too much exposure to the cold. This coming from someone who used to think that the torture methods used in Dad’s–and every other organized crime group–was bad.

For instance, having your finger chopped off in order to get information out of you, sucked. I was ten years old when I walked in on Dad and his men sitting in the kitchen, not thinking much of it.

Until I noticed a man sitting amongst them, crying, and clutching a bloody hand to his chest. It took a few seconds for me to comprehend why a massive, grown-ass man would be sobbing like that. Then I spotted the severed finger on the kitchen table.

Despite Mom trying her best to explain the situation, while depicting that man as pure evil, none of it sat right with me.

It was on that day that I had come to terms that I was too soft for the world Mom and Dad had brought me into. And, from then on out, getting a finger cut off became one of my biggest fears.

That was until I was locked under a bulletproof glass cover inside a pool for a day and froze to near death.

Okay, it wasn’t close to losing a finger, but it unlocked a new fear. Being trapped and dying, slowly.

If I was the old version of me, I would have rushed to a doctor or hospital by now to get some help, or at the least find out if there was anything wrong with me after such an ordeal.

The new Elise, the one too stubborn to admit that Jace may have spooked her, refused to allow him to know it.

I’d rather die than to cower in fear.

Cape Falls was to blame for this. It had twisted and crushed me. It had torn me to shreds and almost broke my soul. I wanted to end everything to escape that hell of a place.

And then, one day, my eyes opened and I was the demon everyone needed to fear in that place. I was the girl the bullies had made a wide berth around after I had put my point across that I was done with their bullshit.

The girl who had walked in there was weak and afraid of her own shadow. They had smelled it on me and used it to their advantage.

I used to be the new toy they threw around, made misuse of, then beat me up and left me in a puddle of blood on the cold floor.

I walked out there, stronger.

Jace’s actions may have instilled a moment of doubt in me about that. But I had to remind myself, they weren’t expected.

I was thrown off-guard for a second. Just a second.

I wasn’t going to allow that to happen again. Those bastards have no idea what was about to hit them.

A high-pitched croak sounded close to my left. I stirred, remembering I was in the bathtub, the horrendous scent of rose oil overpowering my sense of smell.

I caught a whiff of a wet dog. Or at least, something close to a wet dog.

The water had gone cold. It wasn’t nearly as cold as the water in the pool had been, but it wasn’t a welcoming embrace, either.

Did I just hear…? I paused, my eyelids too heavy to open to see what was going on around me. My ears strained to make sure I wasn’t going crazy.

Cluck!

Cluck!

Cluuuck!

I choked on something furry, my eyes peeling open wide, to find the bathtub was a disgusting, mushy brown color, and stuffed with wet, clusters of white—wait, was that feathers?

I vaulted up in the tub so fast as if I got bit, an ensemble of clucks exploded around me, and the snowy, feathery balls went ballistic.

“Chickens?” I cried out in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

The gunk in the tub stuck to my body like a second skin, and was next to impossible to wipe off with my hands.

Whatever was mixed with the water and brown muck, was sticky as crap.

I was still trying to rub it off, when another, ‘Cluuuck!’ sounded, and a freaking chicken flew at me as if it was defending its stomping grounds or something.

“Motherfucker!” I shouted, shoving the furious chicken away. It was at that moment that I discovered my bathroom was a whole breeding farm of chickens.

The worst part? Their nests were neatly lined across the door, with eggs and all. As if to make sure I wouldn’t be able to get out of the bathroom.

My eyes shot toward the window, noticing some dipshit had wired it shut from the outside. I could take a wild guess and say it was Jace who wasn’t done with his bullshit.

My prime question was, how the hell did I sleep through all that?

I wasn’t a heavy sleeper. Even through my worst of times, including torture, I’d never be such dead weight that I wouldn’t notice an army of chickens.

Then again, I’ve never been frozen half to death, so maybe this could be an exception.

“For freak sake.” The same chicken made another go at me, pecking me right on the tip of the ear. “Damn it!”

I swiped it away, throwing another slew of curses, noticing a nest perched at the feet end of the tub. It had to belong to the one attacking me.

“I swear, if you so much as turn your beak in my direction again, I will boil your eggs and make you watch as I eat them in front of you.”

Not that the chicken understood a word I had said, already running toward me for a third time.

Before she made it to me, I was already standing on the floor beside the tub, scowling at her and ready to shove her away again.

Instead of going for me, she passed me and jumped on the edge of the tub, rounding her way toward the nest.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, go take care of your offspring.”

If only my dad had the protective and caring nature of a chicken. Not that I liked chickens, but I had to respect them for that.

“Great,” I muttered as I stared down at the mess sticking to my body. “How the hell am I supposed to get this shit off me?”

I peered at my tub with a groan. Bathing wouldn’t be an option, and a shower much less, as I didn’t have one in my bathroom. I could use one of the other many bathrooms in my Dad’s mansion, but it would mean I’d have to get past that row of nests and the ill-tempered chickens with better parenting instincts than my dad.

My stomach decided now was a good time to protest how empty it felt with a long, rumbling growl.

Would this freaking day ever end?

I released a sigh, deciding it would be best to go straight for the door, eggs or not, and make a run for it.

I peered cautiously at the chickens. They were in their own world, pecking mindlessly away on the feathers scattered across the floor. I mean, how fast can these chickens be?

I didn’t waste another second. I bolted for the door, accidentally stepping on one of the eggs as my hand closed around the handle, only to learn the door was locked.

“You fuckers!” I shouted, just as an army of outraged chickens charged for me.