Shadows In Durango

Chapter 140

HRHRRSOfig's POVHHIRK

Vincent leddown the hall, his hand warm and firm around mine, his grip tight enough to makethink that

he was desperately stopping himself from storming back to Serand throttling the man...

We stepped into the spare bedroom, and he closed the door behind us with a sharp click. The tension in the air

between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. His jaw was clenched, and his usually soft eyes were burning

with anger. "I'm sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "That guy is an

absolute" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "I didn't know he'd be like that. If I'd have known, | wouldn't have

let him within a mile of you. He's a rude fucking asshole!"

"It's okay," | said quickly, even though it really wasn't. My pulse was still racing, and my skin felt like it was

crawling from the way Serhad poked and prodded at me. "I can handle it. It's only for tomorrow, right? This

has to work with his help, so let's just give him a chance at least?"

Vincent stopped pacing and turned to look at me, his expression softening just a fraction at my reasoning. "You

shouldn't have to handle it, Sofia, none of this is good for you - | feel fucking terrible about it. This is already

enough without sguy making you feel like a fucking art display..." He trailed off, his fists clenching up again.

| gave him a small smile, trying to ease the tension. "I'm fine, Vincent, honest. | promise that it's all ok. Let's just

get this over with, I'm brave enough for this."

His gaze lingered onfor just a moment longer before he nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But if he tries to demand

anything else that | feel crosses the line anything at all—then he's out of here. | don't care how good he

supposedly is at his job."

"Yeah, deal," | said softly, even though | wasn't entirely convinced that Serwouldn't find a way to push

Vincent's buttons again since he was more than unbothered by him.

Vincent grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top from a dresser and handed them to me. "Change into these," he

said, his voice still tight. "I'll step outside for a minute."

| nodded, watching as he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. For a moment, | just stood there,

holding the clothes and staring at the door. The reality of what was about to happen hitagain, and a shiver

ran down my spine.

Tomorrow wasn't just another day it was thee day.

Shaking off my nerves, | quickly changed into the tank top and shorts, the fabric hanging off of my body loosely.

The thin material left more skin exposed than | was comfortable with, but | told myself that it was better than

having to strip down to my undies in front of everyone...

This was only another crucial step in my fight to freedom...

With a final sigh, | opened the door, finding Vincent leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw still set in a

hard line as his eyes raked overfrom head to toe before he grumbled out his approval.

"Let's get it over with then..." He presses, suddenly straightening up and reaching a hand out which | take -

allowing for him to take charge on leading us back to Serand his father.

We made it back to the room to find Serwaiting on the arm of the sofa, his arms crossed and a look of

impatience etched on his face. "Finally," he stated, drawing out the word as though we'd made him wait for

hours when it had only been mere minutes. "Come, come. Let us get started."

| hesitated at the doorway, feeling suddenly exposed under his critical gaze as Vincent's father was now seated

in the single armchair in the corner of the room - watching on as | wished he would have gotten bored by now,

choosing to leave the rest of us to it.

Vincent stepped forward, his presence steadying me. "Do what you need to do," he told Sergio, his voice low and

firm. "But keep it professional."

Serwaved a dismissive hand, clearly unimpressed by Vincent's warning. "Oui, oui, yes | understand your

English, calm down. Now, go over there and sit." He gestured to a free spot on the sofa as Vincent's features

creased in disdain. "Now, for the main event! Put out your arm so | can test out what shades will look more

realistic on you..." he asks, although he proceeds to take a hold of my arm, pulling it out for himself.

As | remained still, becoming the main focus in the centre of the room, Serpulled his case closer and began

unpacking his tools as my cheeks grew hotter.

Brushes, palettes, small jars of liquid and powder in varying shades - it was a makeup artist's arsenal, but the

purpose of these tools felt far more cruel...

He got to work quickly, dabbing dark pigments onto a sponge and pressing it against my skin with precision. The

first touch of cold, damp makeup madeflinch, but | forced myself to stay still.

"Do not move," Serinstructed, his tone sharp as he grabbed my chin and turned my face toward the light

again, I'm guessing to examine my skin tone once more?

"You already have sfading bruises? Real ones?" He queries, as | nod once - praying that he wouldn't want to

know why and where they cfrom.

| didn't feel up to explaining why | had found myself trapped in my crazed ex-boyfriend's basement as he took a

psychotic break... not now, not ever did | want to think about that again!

Sersuddenly pressed a thumb in to one of my bruises, earning a hiss fromas | found it to still be

extremely tender.

Vincent, who was seated just a few feet away, took to his feet in an instance, "Watch your fucking hands, are you

an idiot?!" He snaps, as my lips part at his quick response.

Serraised an eyebrow but didn't respond, focusing instead on his work. "I must say," he muttered as he

blended a dark purple bruise onto my cheekbone, "you will look very convincing after this. Zey will think you

have been through the wars!" He chuckles, as Vincent eventually takes his seat again.

| swallowed hard, trying to push away the creeping sense of dread that rose up my throat. This wasn't just

makeup; it was a visual story of pain and control that we had hoped to paint.

But at the end of the day, this was only makeup, and the rest would be up to us...

Sermoved down to my arms next, applying small, but realistic mottled bruises along my biceps and forearms.

"Turn zis way," he ordered, and | complied, my stomach churning with every touch.

As he worked, Vincent sat by silently, his hands clenched into fists at his sides while his father remained

intrigued.

| could feel the pent up frustration radiating off of him, but he didn't say a word, probably knowing that it would

only drag this out longer...

"Almost done, | think sneck markings will top this off!" Serannounced after finishing with one of my legs,

stepping back briefly to admire his work so far.

He used his thumb this time, dragging lines around my neck area before seeming to dab it away with a dry cloth.

Then, he grabbed a gel like texture from his case, instructingto close my eyes as he pressed it in to the

corner of my left

one.

"Ahh! Yes, perfect," he said finally, clapping his hands together before shiftingwith my shoulders to fully face

the other two - like | was a flimsy doll. "Now zat is a woman who looks... abused."

The words hit harder than | expected, and | bit the inside of my cheek to keep from meeting my emotions.

Seeing Vincent's shocked expression and his father's nods of approval, made what we were doing feel the most

real that it had so far... there was no turning back now, we were in too deep!

Vincent's father let out a low whistle from the corner of the room as he stood. "Well, I'll be damned. Sergio,

you've outdone yourself. Will this last long enough?" He asks, as my eyebrows furrow at the question. He had a

fair point, what if it smudges or fades through the night?!

Serbeamed at the praise, clearly pleased with his work. "She will be most convincing, no? But no, it is

professional, permanent makeup." He states, as my lips part.

"Permanent?!" | repeat in a breath, only causing for the little French man to laugh in my face.

"No, no, you silly girl! It is called ‘permanent’ but means that it lasts up to a week! Once dry, it will stain the skin

for days!" He flaunts his arms around as he explains, as though it were common sense.

Vincent stepped forward next, his body tense as he lookedover. His eyes lingered on the fake bruises, his

expression dark and rigid. "Thanks, It'll do," he said shortly. "Now pack up and get out," Serfrowned but didn't

argue back, quickly gathering his tools and stuffing them back into his case whilst his father was the one to

make small talk with the man.

"Let's go upstairs, you'd better take a look at yourself before you get a fright!" Vincent leans down to say, as |

swallow back my nerves.

Was it that bad? That real? | guess that would be a good thing though... right?