"Answer the question," he whispered in my ear. Turning around quickly, he was already gone and out of reach.
"Yes," I admitted.
My answer was met with more silence. I could only hear my own pounding heart and short, shallow breaths.
"What are you afraid of?"
I tingled with awareness that he was near, but I feared how close he could be. Or how far. I couldn't even tell anymore what I was so afraid of. Alone in the pitch black, I was exposed and vulnerable. A familiar panic started to grow and my palms started to sweat. Just when I opened my mouth to let out a scream, I was thrown back
My scream was cut off as my back slammed into the wall. I could smell Atlas as he pressed against me, stealing away my air. Then I felt something hard and cold against my neck. A knife. My gasp pushed my skin into the sharp edge and a chill washed over me.
"Are you afraid of what I will do to you?" he asked. His voice was a low growl, sending shivers over me. "Answer me!"
"Yes!" I shouted, careful not to move enough to cut myself.
"Do you think I'm going to kill you?" he said and I felt the whisper in my ear, warming my face.
I nodded and waited for his next move. Would this be how it ended for me? In this dark basement in the middle of nowhere after fighting all this time?
"Stella," he said, running his fingers over my lips. "Remember this fear. That dark feeling in your heart that you feel because you think you are moments away from death. Hold on to it."
"Why?" I asked, needing to know why he felt the need to do this to me.
"Because, Little Star," he said, his lips now touching mine, "you feel this fear because you don't want to die."
Atlas pulled away from me and cold air took his space. I gasped for air and slid down the wall to the floor.
"Remember this fear the next time you think about giving up. Don't you dare fucking forget that you want to live. Others didn't have that choice, so don't take it for granted."
The sounds of his footsteps echoed as he walked away from me and up the stairs. I was alone and I could feel it around me. I hung my head between my knees as I sucked it up and calmed my breathing.
Atlas was right. When faced with dying, I was scared. My parents didn't get to just give up. They wanted to fight but it wasn't enough. Ace went out fighting and I would be a disgrace to do anything differently. If they were watching me now, and I truly hoped they weren't, I wanted them to be proud.
I slowly stood and walked to the stairs. I didn't know what stood on the other side of that door, but I wasn't going to hide anymore. Tomorrow could bring more pain and danger, but I would try to make it through. Holding the feeling Atlas had just given me in the darkness, I stepped outside and into the light.
XXIV
Atlas
From the safety of my office, I watched on the surveillance stream as Stella left the basement and headed to the kitchen. She moved around my house freely like she had all the freedom in the world. I smiled to myself while I put the finishing touches on the final stages of our plans. Now that Stella had snapped out of it, I would have one less thing to worry about.
I let her sleep that night without interruption. It took all my control to stay away. It was at night that I finally felt relief. Tying her up and controlling her was how I kept myself sane. Without the release, I was feeling on edge, angry and more than ready to rip someone's head off. When Tony came in the office, he was the perfect target.
"What the fuck took so long?" I asked as soon as I saw his face.
"Is that a serious question?" Tony asked with a glare. "I said days. We are back within a day. Don't be a dick."
I rubbed my face and felt the stubble there from being too busy. I didn't even know how many days I had been here anymore. A quick stay at the lake house turned into so much more. It became a turning point, a battlefield, and a command center.
"How did it go?" I asked, leveling my voice.
"Your dear daddy is back in Miami, so it went better than expected," he told me with a wide grin.
I stood and brushed the wrinkles from my suit jacket. Slowly and methodically, I buttoned it up and straightened my tie. I never liked to meet people looking less than perfect. It intimidated them, made them feel inferior. As I left my office, I became focused on one thing only.
"Get the girl," I said.
Everything went black and white as my mind cleared. The familiar feeling of zoning in on a target filled me. I entered the living room and took a deep calming breath. The open space was perfect.
"Atlas?" I heard her behind me. Stella's blue eyes went wide when she saw what caused us to haul her out of bed in the middle of the night.
In the center of the room, a man kneeled on the floor. His head was hung low and his shoulders heaved with his heavy breaths. Tony stood behind him, a gun pressed to the back of the man's head. Sal held Stella firmly as he pulled her into the room. She looked panicked and confused.
"What’s going on?" she asked, her eyes pleading with me.
I stepped forward, pulling out my own gun. I traced the pathetic excuse for a man's face with the barrel, forcing him to look up at me.
"Look at me," I spit at him.
His dark and empty eyes met mine and I had to step back to keep from pulling the trigger. I had seen evil, but this man was sick.
"You recognize him, Little Star?" I asked her.
Stella stepped forward and Sal let her. Her body was tense as she looked down at him. I saw when she finally got a good look at his face. A sound of pain escaped her mouth and she jumped away from him.
"It's him," she whispered. She was between breaking down and breaking out in a fit of anger. Which one would win out?
The fucker on his knees had the nerve to laugh. "You are dead, little girl."
The blunt end of my gun smacked into his skull, shutting him up. His didn't flinch or even make a sound as he glared up at me.
"You would go against your dad for this piece of ass?" he asked with blood dripping down his forehead.
I had had enough. I steadied myself and put my gun right between his eyes. He showed no fear, just amusement. I pulled back the safety, the click echoing in the room.
"No!" Stella cried, grabbing my arm.
In surprise, I looked down at her watering eyes. Our victim started to laugh.
"I want to do it," she said quietly, effectually shocking everyone in the room. Dead silence.
"What?" I probably didn't hear her right.
"It was my family," Stella said with an even voice.
Stella's cold fingers slid down my arm and wrapped around my fingers that were holding the gun at a man's head. She gave it a gentle squeeze to remind me to let go, so I did. Her hand fell with the unexpected weight, but she corrected quickly. I stepped back while she squared her shoulders and faced her family's killer.
Stella was taught to shoot. She and her dad had frequented a shooting range as their own way of bonding. I'm sure he felt he was teaching his little girl a skill to protect herself that she would never need to put to use. I was sure he never imagined his little girl using those skills to get revenge for his death.