Blind Desires

Chapter 2

TATE

I WOKE UP and everything was black. Not the kind of dark you can push through or guess where you are. It was the kind that swallows you whole, thick and endless. No rough ropes biting into my skin, no blood clogging my throat—just silence and cold that creeped under my skin.

The sheets were soft and warm around my legs, wrong in every way. My body felt like it had been through hell, every nerve screaming. My head throbbed like a war drum, my lip cracked and sore, wrists rubbed raw from whatever bullshit they did to me before. I wasn’t tied up anymore, but I ached like I’d been beaten half to death.

For a second, I wanted to believe I was dead. That this was some kind of dream or coma where I didn’t have to fight anymore. That would’ve been the easy way out.

Then I heard it. The sharp click and flick of a lighter.

The glow of a cigarette flared to life and I jerked back before I could even think, pain bursting through my ribs and spine. I choked on a gasp I couldn’t get out, biting down hard on a groan. The ember glowed again, closer this time.

A chair creaked.

He was there, sitting in the corner, just watching me like I was some kind of freak show.

The light caught the blurry angles of his face. Dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and for a second, I thought maybe I was dreaming. But no, he was real. Too real.

He didn’t say anything. Just smoked like I was invisible.

I tried to move my head again, slower this time. My arms felt free but useless, muscles burning and bruised. My ankles were cuffed to the bed, cold metal biting into my skin. I twisted my wrists, but it was pointless. No escape.

My mouth was dry as dust, and my heart slammed so loud I thought it’d burst.

Finally, he spoke, voice low and calm like he was talking about the weather instead of holding me prisoner.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “How could they mistake the both of you?”

“I don’t know what the f**k you’re talking about,” I snapped, throat tight and dry.

He laughed. Not the funny kind. No, the cold, cruel kind like I just told the dumbest joke in the world.

“I know,” he said, standing up and flicking his cigarette to the floor with a snap. He stepped closer, and I could feel the heat from his body even through the cold room.

His eyes locked on me, head titling to the side. “I’m sorry about what my men did to you,” he said softly. There was nothing soft in the way he looked at me.

I glared back, trying not to show the fear clawing its way up my throat. “What do you want?”

He raised a brow and chuckled. “Not you. Johnny.”

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might shatter. Johnny. My father. The one I’d hoped would drag me out of this nightmare.

He smiled, like it was some f****d-up joke.

“Me? I’m Enzo.” He said it like it was supposed to mean something. Like I should’ve heard the name before and pissed myself already.

“Tried really f*****g hard to hide you from the world, didn’t he?”

He shook his head, like it was all hilarious.

“But you... you, Tate...” His voice dropped low, dangerous. I yanked on the chains around my ankle, the clink echoing in the quiet.

“Then go settle it with him.”

The cold laugh vanished from his eyes, replaced by something that could kill. Suddenly he was right in front of me before I could blink. Too fast, too damn unnatural.

His hand yanked mine hard, shooting pain up my arm. His breath was hot on my face, and I tried to back away but only hit the headboard.

“You think I haven’t tried?” His voice was low and deadly. “But he’s one hell of a cunning rat.”

He leaned in closer, gripping my finger so tight I thought it would snap. “Every time Johnny doesn’t deliver,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper, “I take a piece of you and send it home.”

That hit me like a gut punch. My teeth clenched, my body trembled, and my heart hammered so loud I thought it would burst through my ribs.

He let go and stepped back.

I stayed silent because for once, the words were gone. My lungs felt too tight to breathe.

He pushed off the doorframe, one last sneer before he left. “Let’s hope Daddy gives enough of a f**k to come get you. Otherwise, I’ll start mailing pieces.”

The door slammed behind him. The lock clicked shut. And the silence swallowed me whole.

My chest tightened. My heart thudded so loud it drowned out everything else.

My hands shook, still raw from where he grabbed me. I looked down—my glasses were in my palm. He’d f*****g dropped them. Dropped them like he was doing me a favour.

I wanted to scream. To break something. To punch the walls until my fists bled. But all I could do was sit there, trapped and shaking, scared out of my goddamn mind.

The cuffs bit into my ankles. My wrists stung where they’d been rubbed raw. My throat burned like I’d swallowed broken glass.

Pieces.

That’s what he said.

I kept hearing it. Over and over.

Pieces of me. Sent home like a package nobody asked for.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, curled into myself like that would make it all go away. The room was still dark. Still cold. Still quiet—except for the sound of my heartbeat, frantic and hollow in my ears.

And I saw it, the box in my head. The brown tape. The red.

Anna’s hands frozen around it, her mouth parting but no sound coming out. My sister behind her, too young for something like that, reaching for it like it was just mail—just some delivery—and seeing what was inside.

My hand.

My f*****g hand.

And the look on her face… I think that broke something in me before anything else ever could.

I pressed my face into the mattress. Not to cry. I told myself I wouldn’t. I swore I wouldn’t. But the tears came anyway. Hot. Angry. Useless.

My body wouldn’t stop shaking.

I hated myself. For trusting that stupid smile. For walking down that alley. For thinking a quick f**k wouldn’t land me here.

And most of all, for still hoping. Somewhere deep in my messed-up head, that maybe Johnny would come.

What the f**k was I even thinking?

There was no way out. No one was coming.

Just me and this silence. And the sick, twisted truth that even if he mailed me home in f*****g pieces...

…Johnny still wouldn’t open the goddamn box.