Chapter 5: The lie

Elena's POV

The next morning, I woke up to a knock on the door, and my body jerked awake. My hand flew to my chest, because I thought they had finally come to take my life, but I was wrong.

It was just Leticia who came in with a tray of food. She set it on the table and looked at me with those tired eyes, but she did not smile. She never did.

"You have a visitor," she said flatly.

My brows furrowed together, and I sat up. "A visitor?"

She nodded. "It is someone from the south. Someone who came with you." she said.

My blood went cold, as I thought about the men who had kidnapped me. The same men who had beaten me, drugged me and thrown me into the truck. They were back here.

Leticia left, and a few minutes later, a man walked into my room. He was not the man with the scar on his cheek, he was someone else. He was smaller, and quieter, and his eyes were the color of mud, and they moved over my room like he was counting everything he saw.

"You know why I am here," he said coldly.

I did not know, but I did not say that.

"The Cartel del Sur wants information," he said. "About the king, about his men, and about his fortress. And you are going to get it for us."

I stared at him. "I am not a spy."

"You are now." He stepped closer, and his voice dropped lower. "Your family is still in Valle Humano. Your father, your stepmother, and your cute little brother. Do you want them to live?"

My heart stopped. "You would not hurt them."

"I would not," he said. "But the men I work for would. They will kill every single one of them if you do not do what we say."

"My father sold me," I said, and my voice was flat. "Why would I care if he dies?"

The man smiled. "Because your brother did not sell you. And your brother is six years old."

My heart stopped. "What do you want?" I asked.

"Information" he replied." Start small. Like the layout of this floor, where the guards stand, and what time they change shifts. Ensure you do nothing that will get you killed yet, and let it be just enough to prove you are useful."

"I'm locked up in this room all day and I do not go out. So I can't get those informations you need" I said firmly, thinking I had outsmarted him.

"The Mafia King would let you out in a few days or less. That is when your task begins" he said with certainty.

My heart almost stopped, and my blood ran cold, and the small victory I had felt in my chest evaporated into the falling snow.

I did not want to do it. Every part of me was screaming to say no regardless of the threats. But I thought about my little brother's face, and I thought about the men who had beaten me mercilessly, and I knew what they were capable of.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "I will do it."

The man smiled, but it was not a nice smile. "Good. Write it down, and leave it in the garden under the third bench. Someone will collect it."

He left, and the door closed behind him, and I heard the lock click.

I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, and I tried to think. I tried to find another way. But there was no other way. The Cartel del Sur had my family, and Luis Montero had me.

I found a piece of paper and a pen on the side locker of the table. My hands were shaking as I picked up the pen. I thought about not writing anything, because I did not know anything, and i thought about telling Luis the truth. But if I told him, he would kill me. And if I did not write anything, the Cartel del Sur would kill my little brother, who was my only concern. Because truthfully, I did not care if he killed my father and stepmother.

I wrote the layout of my floor. The door, the hallway I had been dragged through, and the guards I had seen. All I wrote down was nothing important, and nothing that could hurt anyone.

"It is fine," I told myself. "I am not hurting anyone. I am just keeping my little brother alive."

But I knew I was lying to myself.

I hid the paper inside my tattered Jean pocket. I would leave it in the garden as instructed once I am allowed to go out, and then I would be a spy and a traitor, just like the men outside my door had said.

The hours passed, the sun went down, and the room grew dark.

I did not eat, and I did not sleep. I just sat against the wall with my back to the headboard and my eyes on the door, and I waited.

The door opened, and Luis Montero walked in.

He was not wearing his suit jacket again. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his scarred forearms were bare. His hair was messy as always, like he had been running his hands through it, and his black eyes found me in the darkness.

He did not speak, he just walked to the middle of the room, and then he sat down on the floor. He did not sit on the bed, or on the chair. But on the floor, across from me.

He sat cross-legged on the cold stone, and he looked at me, but neither of us spoke.

"Why is he on the floor?" I asked myself. "Kings do not sit on floors."

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

The question surprised me, and I immediately thought about lying or telling him no, because that was what he wanted to hear. But I was tired of lying. I had just written a lie on a piece of paper, and I did not want to tell another one.

"Yes," I said. "I am afraid of you."

"Good," he replied. "You should be."

"Then why are you sitting on my floor?" I asked.

He looked at me for a long moment. "Because I do not know how to sit anywhere else."

He was quiet for a long time. His black eyes stayed on my face, and I could see his hands resting on his knees. But they were not shaking tonight, they were just still.

"You are different," he said.

I did not know what that meant, and I did not know if it was a compliment or a warning.

"Different how?" I asked.

He did not answer. He just looked at me, and I looked at him, as the fire crackled in the fireplace, and the snow fell outside the window.

After a long time, he stood up. He walked to the door, and he stopped with his hand on the handle.

"From tomorrow, I will let you step out of this room briefly, so you can take in fresh air, stretch your legs, and come back. No more than that for now." he stared at me again for just a brief moment "Goodnight, Elena," he said.

"Goodnight," I said, and the word felt strange in my mouth.

He paused at the door. "Elena."

I looked at him. "Yes?"

"Do not leave this room tonight." He instructed, then he left.

The door closed behind him, the lock clicked, and I was alone.

I sat there for a long time, and I thought about the warehouse, about the blood on his hands, and about the man I had watched murder someone without blinking.

Then I thought about the man who had just sat on the floor across from me, who had asked if I was afraid, and the man who had said I was different.

"Which one is real?" I asked myself. "The killer, or the man on the floor?"

"Both," a voice whispered in my head.

I shook my head. "That is not possible."

"It is," the voice said. "And it is worse."

But I did not know which one was real, because I had never seen or heard of a monster with two personalities and that scared me more than anything.