Carter had me drink a glass of whiskey with orange bitters but somehow it tasted like chocolate. I don’t know what it was exactly, but it’s still humming through me. He left me with a second drink in his office and it’s the second one that did this to me.
Even as I stand in the kitchen, busying myself with something to take my mind off everything that’s going on around me, I can feel the alcohol numbing the pain. As if I’m spared from what’s going to happen, and it’s everything else that’s moving. I’m just standing here.
But I hate it. I don’t want to be helpless and beg for mercy from a man who won’t show it. I don’t want to seem helpless, but I have no choice.
The refrigerator is full of nearly anything I could want. Fresh eggs, deli meat, fruits, and vegetables. Most of the meats for dinner are frozen, but there’s plenty to satisfy me.
I’m not hungry in the least, but Carter told me to eat and so here I am.
It took me a while to get started, long after Carter had left.
Instead of doing anything at all, I stared at the door. And then each of the windows I passed. And the windows to the garden. I wish I could leave and tell my father they’re coming, but I’m sure he knows. That’s the only comfort I have in this powerless state. My father must know they’re coming for him.
The knife slices through a tomato. It’s so sharp the skin splits instantly without any pressure at all. I suck the taste of the whiskey from my teeth. I can’t do anything, but I need to do something.
The thunk of the knife on the cutting board is the only thing I hear over and over again.
“What are you making?” A deep voice from behind me makes me jump. The knife slips from my hand and I’m too scared to jump away from it as it crashes to the floor. I stand there breathless with anxiety shooting through my veins.
“Shit,” the voice says as my heart races and pounds in my chest.
It’s Daniel. I’ve seen him before and I know that’s his name. But he hasn’t said a word to me. He never even looks at me. Yet, now I’m alone with him, and Carter’s nowhere to be seen. In dark jeans and a black t-shirt, he runs his hand through his hair with a shameful look on his face. “I should’ve come from the other direction, huh?” There’s a sweetness about him, but I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of the Cross brothers.
“I’m just keeping an eye on you,” Daniel says easily, and his lips quirk up into a half smile. “A salad?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, but my answer is a whisper. It’s odd to be a prisoner yet remain free to move about. Even odder to have a conversation with someone as if there’s nothing at all wrong with my position.
I force myself to swallow and bend down slowly, keeping him in my periphery, to pick up the knife. My body trembles as I turn my back to him just enough to walk to the sink and rinse it off. “Avocado, tomato and Italian dressing. I was craving something like it,” I tell him as the water pours down onto the sharp edge of the knife. The light reflects in the water and my heart thumps again.
“Salt tooth?” he asks me, and I nod, eyeing him but trying to just have a conversation. I wonder what he thinks of me. What he thinks of Carter for keeping me here.
All I can look at is the knife in my hand, the alcohol is thrumming, my nerves are high, and I don’t know how to survive anymore.
The idea of an escape plan is forming, but the anxiety is so much higher.
His footsteps give him away as he walks to the other side of the counter, closer to where the chunks of avocado and freshly cut tomato wait for me. My mind is highly aware of where he is. And who he is.
He knows how to get out of here. He could be my ticket to freedom.
“Did you find the bowls?” he asks me as I turn around to face him, the knife feeling heavier in my hand.
With the water off, the room is silent. Eerily so. Or maybe it’s just because of the thoughts running through my mind. The counter is hard against my lower back as I lean against it to keep me steady as I watch him open a cabinet and pull out a bowl.
He smiles at me like he’s my friend or my companion, and not a guard to keep me here. And he lets me hold the knife. He doesn’t even look at it. I have a weapon and I’m a prisoner here, yet he doesn’t care in the least. Why would he, you weak girl? the voice in the back of my head taunts me and laughs.
“Thank you,” I say, and my voice sounds small and weak. Gripping the countertop behind me, it feels so cold, so unforgiving in comparison to how hot my body is right now.
The ceramic bowl clinks as it hits the countertop and Daniel smiles at me. A handsome, charming smile with his hands up in the air as he says, “I’m not going to hurt you; I promise.”
I’m the one with the knife.
I keep thinking it as I take each small step toward the counter.
My bare feet pad on the cold floor.
I offer him a small smile, but I don’t say anything and neither does he.
Until that knife slices so easily through the tomato again. I imagine the way it would go down, but it’s hard to focus. I couldn’t kill him. He’d have to push in the code and then I’d run.
“Is he treating you alright?” he asks me, and my grip tightens on the knife. He could so easily push in a code and grant me freedom. And then I could tell my father they’re coming.
Raising my eyes to his for the first time, I ask him, “What do you think?” I’m surprised by the strength, but I crave more of it.
His gaze flickers to the door behind me and then back to me.
Silence descends upon the kitchen.
“He’s in a difficult position,” Daniel offers me when I start to cut the slices into chunks, trying not to think of what would happen if I failed. What Carter would do to me if I tried to escape and failed. My chest hollows and my stomach drops at the thought. The cell. Or worse, the box. He knows what that box would do to me if he put a lock on the outside of it.
My blood runs cold.
“He’s not a bad man,” Daniel says, and I watch as the knife in my hand trembles as it hovers over the remaining slices.
Bad man? He’s not a bad man? If only Daniel knew what I was thinking.
“Good men don’t do what he’s done,” I tell Daniel without looking at him. “I begged him last night to spare my father. My family,” I say and my voice cracks.
“I’m sorry, but you know he can’t do that.” It’s his only response and I crumble inside. My heart twists in a painful way. It’s a horrible ache that I can’t explain when I hear Daniel turn to walk away.
He’s leaving me. Because he can. Because it doesn’t matter if he leaves me to wallow all alone. All I’ll ever be is alone and pathetic if I don’t even try.
My fingers wrap around the knife until my knuckles are white and I cry out for him. “Daniel!” His tall, lean body stiffens, the muscles in his shoulders rippling as he turns around.
He’s maybe five feet from me. But the kitchen island separates the two of us.
Be smart, I remind myself. But at this point, nothing I’m about to do is smart. Lowering the knife to my side, the blade nearly caresses my skin when I clear my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I offer him although I can hardly hear myself over the furious pounding of my heart in my chest. “Could you show me where the seasonings are?” I have to swallow before I can add, “Please.”
Daniel’s mouth is set in a grim straight line; his eyes pierce deeply into me like he knows exactly what I’m about to do. But he walks toward me. He walks to my side of the island. Inside I’m screaming that it’s a trap, that he knows. My blood rushes in my ears and the sweat from my hand nearly makes the knife slip.
Five feet becomes four, becomes three, becomes two.
And he turns his back to me, reaching at eye level to open a cabinet before turning around and finding that knife pointed at his throat.
The sweat that crawls along my skin is sickening. It covers every inch of me as I try to speak, but my dry throat won’t allow it.
Stupid girl! I hear the voice yell at me. Regret and fear are instant, but the knife is in the air and I can’t take it back. My hand feels as if it’s shaking, but the knife is steady.
I can’t go back. “Get me out of here,” I breathe as he stares at me with disdain.
“You don’t want to do this, Aria.” Daniel’s words are so genuine, so sincere, that I almost regret taking the step forward and nearly pressing the blade to his throat.
“I want to leave.” I somehow push the words out. How strong they sound, although I’m panicked.
Daniel’s eyes turn sympathetic, or maybe they just look back at me as if I’m the pathetic one. I can’t tell. He deceives me so.
“I can’t help you with that.” My heart plummets and races at the same time. This is my only chance, my only hope.
“Open the front door.” As I give the command, I step forward and my trembling hand pushes the knife closer to him, slicing the skin of his upper neck, just slightly. A small nick, but it cuts him. I cut him.
The horror of seeing the bright red blood distracts me for a moment, a moment long enough for Daniel to shove his hand in front of me and try to grip the knife.
He may be fast, but my fear is faster. The knife pierces through his shirt and bicep, easily cutting into him, slicing his arm as I stumble back.
My heart beats so hard I swear I’ll die from terror alone.
The hot grip of his hand burns into my forearm even after he’s let go. My back hits the counter and I jump slightly, but I keep the knife up and sidestep slowly around him. The adrenaline is higher than I’ve ever felt before.
This is bad, my heart screams in terror, this is fucking bad. And I’ve lost the advantage of surprise, the threat of the knife minuscule compared to what it was a moment ago.
“Let me go!” I yell at him as he seethes at me. His grimace grows to something else. Something that looks hurt for me once again. And I want to sneer at him and his pity, but I feel sorry for me too. And there’s nothing lower than that.
“I said let me go!” I’m too afraid to get closer to him and every step feels like my knees may give out from the pure adrenaline pumping through me.
“Even if I opened the door, there are two guards at the gates and I’m not leaving anytime soon. They know that.” His voice is stern, and he takes his eyes from me to look at the cut. “Damn, you got me good,” he says, still not even bothering to look at me. As if I’m not a threat.
“You could hide me in your car.” My voice skips over my words as I struggle to think about the next step.
“And be scared of your knife that’s with you in my trunk?” he asks and my head sways. My body threatens to sway with it. I failed. I already know I’ve failed.
Stupid girl, the voice says, but even she pities me and the earlier anger from her is absent.
My heart sinks and it doesn’t stop like it’s in a never-ending free fall even though I can already feel it in the pit of my stomach. “Get me out of here, please. You can get me out of here,” I say although my voice cracks and I take a step forward with the knife. “Please,” I beg him.
He finally glances up at me and says, “Put the knife down.” That’s all he says, in that disinterested tone that all of the Cross brothers seem to have. A tone that’s utterly dismissive.
“Fuck you,” I almost cry as I tell him off. I have to step closer to him, I have to go through with this. He nearly got the knife from me last time and if he does this time, I’m going back to the cell. Fuck. My throat closes in on itself.
As if hearing my thoughts, Daniel tells me, “I could grab my gun, Aria, don’t make me.”
His words kill the last bit of hope. What would I do? Throw the knife at him if he ran to get his gun? “Put the knife down.”
“Please don’t,” I plead with him. Tears prick my eyes at how stupid I am. At what’s to come.
The cell. I’ll be in the cell tonight. And for however long it takes for Carter to let me out after.
The heavy knife feels heavier and I want to point it at myself. A very big part of me thinks I could get farther if I would threaten to hurt myself. But I don’t want to be in pain. “Please help me,” I barely get the weak words out.
Daniel’s response is immediate, his steps deliberate and powerful. My body shakes as he comes close enough to grip the knife, but this time when he wraps his hand around my forearm, I loosen my grip and the knife falls from my hand to his other hand and only then does he let me go.
I cower like a disobedient child or worse, a dog who knows he’s about to be beaten.
Silent tears fall, and I wipe them as I listen to the knife drop into the sink before Daniel turns on the faucet to clean his cut. The cut I gave him.
“I’m sorry.” My words are choked, and I try to repeat them again but fail. My breathing comes in shallow pants. “I can’t go back. Please, I can’t.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Daniel’s voice is soft as he approaches me, but fear is the only thing I have to give him until he says, “We don’t have to tell Carter.”
His words make me stare into his dark eyes. They’re so like Carter’s. But the heat and desire aren’t there. Just sincerity.
“I won’t tell him, okay?” His comforting voice soothes the fear in me. “This will stay between us.” The relief that replaces the anxiety nearly makes me throw up.
“Why would you do that?” I question him. “I hurt you.”
“Because I would have done the same.” His simple answer is comforting, but it doesn’t give me any hope.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble my apology and have to clear my throat. I’m choking on my words. “I didn’t want to… to hurt you.”
“Why’d you have to do that?” I shake my head, wiping under my eyes. He adds, “I would have done it, but I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say. “I need to get out of here,” I insist, and my words bleed with despair.
“It’s better that you’re here,” he tells me. “You’re not safe at your father’s and I know Carter may not seem like the best person to you right now, but I know there’s a reason for all of this.”
“My father.” The words tumble from my lips. I’m failing him.
“You need to eat,” Daniel says, backing away from me and not acknowledging me. It’s the same thing Carter told me. I just need to eat. And obey.
“You’re going to kill him,” I say and it’s a statement, not a question. I can’t even think about eating. The thought is repulsive.
Daniel opens the fridge and ignores me, although he angles his body so he can see me in his periphery.
He closes the door to the fridge with his elbow as he twists off the top to a beer and takes a quick swig, making the dampened shirt of blood glisten in the light and that bit of red on his throat stare back at me.
I almost tell him I’m sorry, yet again. Even with knowing his plans for my father. It’s a sickening feeling to not know what’s right and wrong, but regardless, you have no choice.
The bottle smacks down on the counter and he finally answers me. “It was going to happen whether or not we stepped in.”
“What was?” I ask him in a hushed voice, cautiously, barely raising my eyes to meet his gaze. The only thing I keep thinking is that I need to be nice to him, so he doesn’t tell Carter.
“War.”
The one-word answer forces my gaze to the polished tile floor. It’s quiet while he drinks, and I clean up the mess of the cubed vegetables I won’t eat.
“You won’t tell Carter?” I feel selfish for daring to bring it back up, but I need to know he won’t. If Carter were here for that… I can’t even begin to think of what he would do.
“Look at me,” Daniel’s voice beckons and I do as he tells me. “I am not going to say a word to Carter. Not one word.” His voice is soothing, but I find it hard to be anything close to being okay.
“Thank you,” I tell him and press my hand to my face to cool it down.
He finishes the beer, all the while I stare at the spot on the floor until I turn instinctively at the sound of his name being called out by a feminine voice.
“Shit,” he says under his breath. He’s quick to grab me by the arm. His grip is tight, demanding and catches me off guard with that fear returning and spiking through me.
“Go to the den,” he demands beneath his hushed breath and attempts to push me out of the kitchen from the other threshold. My feet slip across the floor as he pushes me toward the den.
“Daniel?” the voice calls out again, this time closer and he urges through clenched teeth, “Go.”
My shoulders hunch forward and I feel like nothing. Like absolutely nothing. Worthless, pathetic and a weak thing to be pushed around at anyone’s whim.
“Don’t do it again, Aria. You’re smarter than that,” he tells me before turning his back to me and walking briskly to the other side of the kitchen.
His words numb me for a moment, even though my feet move of their own free will.
I’m supposed to be smarter than that. Maybe I used to be, but a mix of desperation and the feeling of falling into a dark abyss is all I can see anymore… that mix is deadly to any semblance of intelligence that I have.
My hands tremble and I struggle to breathe, but I try to remember Carter’s words from what seems like so long ago. I try to remember what he said that made me feel like I had hope. I try, and I fail.
It doesn’t matter what they were. Everything is insignificant when there’s nothing you can do to change your fate.
And now that I’ve been so fucking stupid, he’s going to put me back in the cell.
I shouldn’t have done that. A heavy breath nearly suffocates me. I need to listen.
With my eyes closed, I whisper, “Daniel won’t tell him.” But the words have little mercy on my pain, because I know I won’t be able to hide it from Carter. He sees me. He sees all of me. And he watches everything.
“What the hell did you do?” A woman’s voice carries through the kitchen with shock and worry, startling me and cutting through my thoughts. As quietly as I can, I slink to the side of the doorway, so I can listen but won’t be seen.
I didn’t know another girl was here. But the way she’s talking to Daniel make it obvious that she’s with him. Not a prisoner of him. Jealousy and fear mix inside of me and I don’t know why I’m so scared of being seen by her. Maybe the trickle of shame as I grip the doorway is indication enough.
“I was drinking and cutting up shit and I thought it would be cool to toss the knife.” I hear Daniel give an excuse that’s not at all believable. But the girl believes him.
“You could have killed yourself,” she reprimands him, although her voice carries a tinge of disbelief. Guilt seeps into my blood. And a part of me knows it’s ridiculous to feel sorry for trying to save myself. But so is all of this.
Daniel chuckles. “Of all the ways to die, I don’t think it’s going to be this, Addison.” I can hear him take a drink before telling her, “I got you a beer.” I almost walk away, but Addison’s next words keep me planted where I am.
“We need to talk.” The severity of her tone is sharp.
“Not right now.” Daniel talks to her differently than the way he talks to me. Differently than the way Carter talks to me. There’s an edge of comfort in his voice and I don’t expect it.
“It’s always not right now,” she responds. “Something’s going on.” Her tone softens, pleading with him. “Why can’t I leave?” she asks him with desperation clinging to every word.
“It’s just better to be safe,” he replies so lowly I hardly hear him. The thrumming of curiosity flows through me. She can’t leave either?
A moment passes and another, I can’t see what’s going on and I inch forward, hoping to get a peek before the conversation continues. Hoping to see this woman.
“You don’t need to know,” Daniel says firmly and with that I creep around the corner to see Daniel leaning against the stove. I see him and a beautiful girl around my age shaking her head so hard that her dark wavy hair falls around her shoulders. She covers her face as she gasps, “You keep lying to me.” Pain is etched into her ragged voice.
Daniel makes a weak attempt to wrap his arms around her before she pushes him away, his ass hitting the stove and she leaves the kitchen, heading back the way she came. Small sounds of her crying linger behind her. Daniel opens a large drawer that blends into the cabinet and he drops the empty beer bottle and cap into the trash, with a wretched pain in his expression that tears at my own heart.
As he turns to leave, I creep further back into the kitchen, but he hears me and peeks over his shoulder.
Not hiding his pain and then leaving me to mine.
