I’ve always known Carter to be a beast of a man. Barely contained and waiting for an outlet to release his rage. As his chest rises and falls with each heavy intake of breath and his muscles coil, his shoulders get more and more tense. With each ragged second of anxiousness passing between us, I know there’s nothing holding him back.
“You chose them.” His words are calculated, spoken with control although he looks anything but in control. The tension winds tighter and my body grows hotter with every hard thud in my chest.
“No,” I try to tell him although my throat constricts to the point where I think I can’t breathe. I start to shake my head, but he lets out a snarl, flipping the front table over in one swift movement. The carved wood antique crashes into the wall with a loud bang that forces my body to tremble as he screams, “Get out!”
The rough cadence of his voice carries through the room and I back away from him, my shoulders hunching as fear consumes me.
Tears prick my eyes and I try to speak, to tell him I didn’t have a choice. I just did what I thought I needed to. “I’d never have–”
He turns to me, taking three large strides forward, the cords in his neck taut and bulging as his dark eyes pierce into me.
“Shot me?” he questions me with nothing but disbelief and rage burning in his eyes.
The intensity of his stare alone makes me cower.
“Carter,” Jase speaks up from behind us, but Carter doesn’t turn away from me. He stares at me like I’ve betrayed him. As if what I did was the ultimate sin.
Has he forgotten that they’re my family? That I’ve begged him to spare them and yet he was going to execute them? Did he forget that he stole me from them and locked me in a cell for weeks?
He stares down at me as though he hates me.
I feel it. It’s raw and palpable.
At this moment, I feel he truly hates me. And that’s what breaks me.
Because no matter what he did to me, I never hated him. I love him.
Tears flow from me easily as Carter informs Jase in the most unfeeling manner that I’m to be removed from the premises.
My heart hollows and collapses, but my feet move, my body shoves me forward. And Carter follows, blocking me from running down the hall to the bedroom.
“I thought you loved me,” he sneers at me and I cover my mouth with my hand to hold back the agony.
I do love him. I do.
I swear I love this man.
Even if he hurt me and even if I hurt him just now.
I can’t voice a single word as his warm breath covers my face and my body wracks with a sob.
“Carter!” Jase yells, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to look at anything other than me.
The moment he does, I bolt. I turn to run past Jase. I don’t dare try to run past Carter. He could block me, catch me, and throw me away. He could see to it himself to banish me from his home.
The hideaway room is past the bedroom, so that space isn’t an option either. And given the state Carter’s in, I don’t trust him to keep his word and let me recover from what’s happened, so I can try to explain.
Instead, I run as fast as I can, on shaky legs and with adrenaline coursing through me, in the opposite direction. The muscles in my thighs scream with pain as I take the stairs two at a time. The pounding of my heart and footsteps are overwhelming. I’m hot and sweating and not okay in any sense of the word. I have to make him understand somehow.
He starts chasing me, although at his own slow and teasing pace. The second I hear Carter behind me, I slip. My elbow and hand crash on the hard, wooden stairs as does my knee, sending shooting pains through my body. I could cry, and I hate myself for it. I did this. This is my fault. I look behind me and see Carter start to climb the stairs. A mask of anger and dominance appears set in stone on his handsome features.
The cell.
The thought hits me at that moment. I force myself to get up and run to the cell. I know it’s behind a painting. He wouldn’t be able to get in if I ran to the cell and locked myself in. It’ll take him time to get a key; time I desperately need. He needs to calm down and I need time. Time so I can figure out how to explain things to him in a way he’ll understand.
Running up the stairs and using that momentum to push off the wall at the top, I careen down the hall.
Which one is it? My breathing is unsteady and a cold sweat breaks out along every inch of my skin. My heart won’t stop racing; pounding chaotically. I can barely see straight.
There are six large paintings in the hall and my fingers fumble around the first, trying to heave it to the side, but it’s not the right one. I tremble as my gaze is whipped toward the sound of him coming.
The second painting I push so hard that it falls, nearly toppling over on me. It’s at least five feet long and four feet high. And it’s not the right one either. The frame splits and cracks and I have to high-step over it, scraping my shin as I go, but I don’t care. Where is it? I need to find it, please.
“You can’t run from me.” Carter’s deep voice reverberates through the hall, and glancing behind me, I see his shadow as he climbs the stairs.
Thump, thump, my heart pounds harder and harder. I can barely breathe.
I don’t know which one is the cell. I don’t know.
The box.
The very thought has me sprinting down the hall to the last set of stairs. Up one more floor and on the left. I run as fast as I can, gasping for breath. Just the idea of Carter not giving me a chance to even speak to him, to explain, to ask for forgiveness, is crushing me with every step.
He just needs time. He has to understand. I can make him understand.
Visions of his face when I pointed the gun at him flash through my mind as I run.
Carter, seemingly over the desire to move slowly and let me run from him, picks up his pace as I get to the hall. I can hear his footsteps pound up the stairs, so I run as hard as I can, nearly slamming into the closed door of his office. Tears prick as the hurt and betrayal of what I’ve done set in.
I scrabble with the knob so clumsily in my own chaos that I think it’s locked, but it’s not.
It’s open and a wave of relief runs through me although it’s short-lived. Nothing is okay at this moment. Not a damn thing is all right.
I don’t waste any time; I don’t bother to close the office door either. Sprinting to the box, I rip the top open and practically fall into it, scraping my thighs and back. A scream is ripped from me, but it’s merely instinctual. I don’t care about the pain; I don’t care about anything other than shutting the lid and locking myself in.
I have to reach up to get the top of it lowered and when I do, I see Carter in the doorway. Fear paralyzes me when I see his face, contorted with a look of outrage and red from running. My skin is ice cold as I reach for the lid. My fingertips feel numb as I slam it down.
There’s a snap, I hear it, but I don’t know what it is. It comes with a tug at the back of my neck that’s accompanied by a sharp pinch I try to ignore as my fingers slip along the edge of the lid searching for the lock.
Shrouded in darkness, I struggle to find the lock, hearing Carter’s footsteps getting closer and closer, but my trembling fingers find it and the multiple clicks assure me I’m bolted in.
All I can hear is my staggered breathing for a moment and then another.
With a deafening roar of anger, the box lifts off the ground only an inch, if that. Through my tears still streaking down my hot face, I can see Carter lifting it with all his strength, but it’s meant to outlast such acts and so it does.
Crouched in the box and gripping on to myself, I hold my breath knowing he can’t do a damn thing about it.
It’s only then that I hear the rolling of the beads. It’s only then that I feel the pearls rolling around me. I shriek in terror at first, thinking that something is alive and in the dark place with me. But it’s only my necklace. The beads that have fallen off the broken chain.
Tears leak freely at the realization.
My chest hollows as I cover my mouth to keep from crying harder.
The box moves a little more and I close my eyes until he drops it, making my body sway and tumble in the small amount of space I have. A small yelp escapes me, but I focus on calming down. I’m on the verge of a panic attack or worse.
My eyes are closed tighter than they’ve ever been. Shock and horror still threaten to suffocate me as I struggle to inhale.
A few minutes pass and all I can hear is Carter’s chaotic breathing. For a moment someone comes in, I think Jase, speaking quietly and trying to tell Carter to calm down, but the door closes shut with a loud click and then there’s silence again.
Nothing but silence and the slamming of my own heartbeat and the rushing of blood in my ears.
It’s going to be okay, I try to reassure myself. He has to understand. Even the thought is fleeting in my mind. All Carter knows is that I chose them, my family and his enemies. I pointed a gun at him and cocked it.
Oh, my God. My head spins as the memory comes back to me.
I threatened the life of the only man I’ve ever loved.
When I finally open my eyes, Carter’s are fixed directly on mine. As if he can see me, even though I know it’s impossible. His dark eyes pierce through me, pinning me where I am and eliciting a new kind of fear.
His deep voice sends a jagged spike of despair through me as he says low beneath his breath, “You can’t stay in there forever.”
