Chapter 150

Latisha's body went limp as she lost consciousness, her struggles ceasing in his

grip.

Santino finally pulled the bowl away.

Air rushed back into her lungs, carrying with it a spray of rice that lodged deep in her windpipe. Her face turned a deep shade of red as she collapsed on the floor, convulsing with hoarse, rasping coughs. She spat out the food, saliva and bile dribbling from her mouth.

Santino watched her, his expression unreadable.

The more pathetic and broken she looked, the stronger the urge became to break her even more.

After she had coughed up the last of the food, she lay there, gasping for breath, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. She looked up at him, her lips forming silent words that he could easily read.

"Kill me."

He smiled faintly and reached down, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Have you forgotten? I already told you. You can't die."

He picked up the bowl and held it out again. “Eat.”

Latisha instinctively clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away.

"If you die,” Santino said softly, "your dear friend dies with you. Think carefully."

She froze, not understanding.

He picked up a remote from a nearby bed and turned on a television mounted on the wall.

The screen flickered to life, showing a figure tied to a post. The person's eyes were blindfolded and their mouth was sealed with duct tape. They struggled feebly against their bonds.

It was Nikita.

Latisha's head whipped around to stare at Santino in horror.

"Weren't you curious

how you ended up here?" he asked. "She's the one who brought you out. She received a message saying you were in danger and came running. She planned to help you leave Etherea City even forged a divorce agreement for you. Tell me, even if I don't kill her, do you think Clifford will let her go?"

Disbelief warred with despair on Latisha's face. She began to tremble, whether from rage or fear, she couldn't tell.

She was a curse. She should never have befriended Nikita. Now everyone could

use Nikita to threaten her. She had ruined Nikita's life, just as she had ruined Mrs. Dashiell's.

She deserved to die. She didn't deserve to live.

Guilt, self-loathing, and regret washed over her, a suffocating tide more powerful than the food that had filled her lungs. Tears streamed from her eyes as she lay on the floor, wanting to scream but unable to make a sound.

Santino held the bowl out again. “Eat.”

Latisha's lips trembled. She stared at the messy bowl of food as her tears dripped into it, one by one. It was just one meal. She couldn't let Nikita die over a bowl of food.

Slowly, she moved toward the bowl, swallowing every last ounce of her pride. She plunged her face into it and took a large bite.

Santino watched her with a faint, amused smile, as if observing a cute puppy.

Latisha swallowed the mouthful and took another, eating as if she were starved. When the bowl was nearly empty, she lifted her stained face and looked at him. "You didn't finish," he chided softly. "Wasting food isn't what good girls do."

Her eyes drifted back to the bowl. A few grains of rice were stuck to the sides. To get them, she would have to... lick them clean.

She pressed her lips together, her cheeks and hair still smeared with food. She tried to force herself, but she couldn't do it.

"What's the matter?" Santino smiled. "Clinging to your dignity? After alk these years as Clifford's little dog, what dignity do you have left? You'd choose that over your friend's life?"

His words were poison, each one striking at her deepest insecurities. Latisha swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and lowered her head back to the bowl.