Break Me (MxM)

-70-

I stepped down to the lowest floor of the cells below the Golden Cobras' compound. Aimé was busy on a mission and had left me alone about thirty minutes ago, but I had to talk to someone, so I didn't stick around his siblings for too long.

Anta seemed surprised when I asked, but she reluctantly agreed to let me talk to the Black Widower. She gave me the keys to his cell and the keycard for entry passage, then told me where I needed to go. I think I was a bit shocked to be given all of that so easily, which made me wonder what state my former torturer was actually in right now.

After going down seemingly countless steps into the underground prison, I walked along a dimly lit corridor as per the instructions Anta gave me. Despite there not being anyone in this cell block, I couldn't deny how the sinister aura this area gave off.

As I reached the Black Widower's cell, the light above the door flickered and then went out. That was like a warning sign, but I ignored the eeriness of that light going out and unlocked the cell. The man within remained on his side facing away from me as I slid the cell door shut. I locked it through the bars, then hung the keys up on a hook on the bunk bed.

"For what reason have you come here? To rub it in my face?"

"To rub what in your face?" I asked, sitting near his side on the bottom bunk. "Who did you think had come down here?"

Éloy rolled over and shot upright, then smacked his forehead on the bottom of the top bunk. He groaned and held his forehead, making me chuckle. Éloy flinched when I stroked the reddened area of his forehead.

"What are you planning, Theodore?" he whispered, his dark eyes even darker in the shadows. "Why are you here? Why lock yourself in this cell with me?"

"I don't really know, Éloy." I responded, crossing my legs. "I want to make you bleed and cry out in pain like how you hurt my Aimé both times."

"Then why haven't you?" he asked, crossing his legs and leaning against his pillow.

I raked my hand through my hair. "It's hard for me to believe, but I definitely have Stockholm Syndrome."

Éloy's demeanor changed and he reached for me, gathering my form into his arms. "My kitten..." he breathed, taking full advantage of the fact I couldn't really hurt him even though I wanted to on the behalf of my man.

I closed my eyes for a moment, keeping my right cheek on his chest. I wanted to laugh, cry, and grit my teeth in frustration. I love Aimé to death—to the point that I would happily die if it was to save him. I love every single part of him, even the ones that society deems as criminal. I love Aimé so much—too much, really.

But this damn Stockholm Syndrome is eating away at me. I hadn't told Aimé about it because I was scared he would get upset with me and hate me for developing these strange, incoherent feelings for his rapist and tormentor.

"Even with my lovely Aimé, I still couldn't get enough. I got greedy, Theodore, for you and the relationship you had with my cute puppy. There was no space for me with you two and that made me angry, so I separated you and groomed you to be my cute kitten." murmured Éloy, nosing my head and pressing kisses to it.

I didn't return his embrace. I didn't want to do that. I never had unless ordered, so that was the same this time. Éloy slid his fingers under my thick sweater and pulled it up with the shirt underneath it. He hummed.

"The scars look stunning on your body, Theodore. It's so nice that I claimed both of my cute boys since the scars are permanent reminders of my love for you."

I stared unseeingly at the dark gray wall in front of me, then let my tears fall. I feel so physically sick and in such mental pain, anguish, and emotional turmoil because of the man holding me. I only loved Aimé—my man for the rest of my life.