She fell asleep after fourteen hours of looking for an escape, slamming the chair into the door, screaming profanities, rocking against the wall, and whispering all her regrets.
And I watched every minute of it well into the early morning. Obsessed with what she’d do and watching the fight leave her as every hour passed.
After she’d realized her efforts were hopeless, she hummed softly. So low, that I thought it was only a buzz from the camera until I turned up the volume. She hummed for hours. I don’t even know if she noticed.
She’d finally fallen asleep, the hum of a lullaby still soft on her lips. The thrill of victory sang in my blood.
It was only then that I left my office and the monitors, reminding myself to be patient. I wouldn’t be surprised if the carpet beneath my desk is worn from the pacing of my shoes against it.
My last thought as I left the office and checked the monitor on my phone, was that as much as she was fighting now, she’d cave. She’d give in and obey. She has no choice. And time is on my side. Not hers.
An hour into going through orders and updates on each of the deliveries, I heard her screaming again. But instead of it bringing the buzz of a challenge, her screams curdled my blood.
The sweat is still hot on my skin by the time I finally get to the cell and kick the door open with the gun cocked in my hand. My heart pounds in my chest. Aria’s screams are violent and shrill.
I don’t know what the fuck happened, who the hell got to her or how they got in here. But someone has their hands on her.
My heart hammers and the anger of her defiance is dulled by something primal, a raw fear that sends a prickle of unease through my body in an instant. I can hear the terror in her voice as she cries out into the dark room for someone to help her.
Someone’s in there. Someone’s hurting her. It’s undeniable in her screams. I can’t fucking breathe. I finally have her in my grasp. Mine.
My breathing is barely controlled with the gun raised in the air above her place on the floor. Whoever it is will die a painful death for taking what’s mine. “Please!” she cries out, her eyes shut tight as her body stiffens and her back arches on the mattress. She screams again, trembling, and helpless. Her small body is cradled into itself.
“Carter!” I hear Jase call out to me, the door to the cell still open. I can hear him running down the hall.
Now that the cell is open, anyone and everyone in here can hear her screams.
My gun lowers slowly as Jase enters the room behind me. His breathing is ragged as he closes the distance and stands next to me. Our shadows tower over her small frame, lying destitute in the bed. She doesn’t stop crying out, and although she doesn’t sob, the sounds are there.
She’s captive to her dreams.
“Night terror,” Jase says with a heavy breath. The metal of his gun rubs against his jeans as he slips it back into place and then looks at me. “I thought someone got in here.” Tiredness is etched onto his face, but also the raw look of fear. He takes a moment to compose himself before starting to tell me, “I thought…”
As he starts to speak, she screams out again and the sharpness of the pain sends spikes over my skin that scrape their way down my body.
It’s a desperate cry that sounds foreign to my ears, although I’m so used to hearing something similar. Pleas for mercy, which I never show.
“What do you want to do about it?” Jase asks me. He’s still catching his breath, just like I am. I can feel him staring at me, wanting to know what to do next. I can’t tear my eyes from her as she curls on her side.
Jase turns to the door as the sounds of someone else coming down the hall makes their presence known.
“I’ll put her on the mattress,” I tell him absently. “Take care of whoever that is and shut the door behind you,” I order him, and my words come out flat. I try to keep the emotion away, but a sense of despair is evident. This wasn’t a part of my plans. My fingers dip into my pocket, fingering the clicker that will open the door to the cell while I’m on the inside.
“You think they did something to her? Romano? Or maybe it’s what she thinks is coming?” Jase asks and finally I turn to look at him.
“How the fuck would I know?” My words come out harsh. The anger at him suggesting her terror is caused by thoughts of what I’ll do to her is unexpected and more than that, unwanted. Of all the things I expected from her, I didn’t anticipate this.
It cuts me in a way I can’t explain. I want to consume her every waking thought. I want her to live and breathe for me and my desires. And maybe this is the cost of it all. That I can have her during her days, but her nights will destroy her.
“Just a nightmare then,” Jase says as if it’s a casual observation. The whimpers still slipping through her parted lips are accompanied with a strangled sound of pain.
“You aren’t supposed to wake them, you know?” Jase breathes out. “When they have night terrors, you’re not supposed to wake them up.”
The light from the door is blocked and the shadow of someone else covers Aria’s slender neck and bared shoulders. I don’t turn to look, but I don’t have to. It’s Declan, asking what’s wrong. He knew she was here, but he doesn’t want any part of this.
“It’s fine,” Jase tells him and then continues, “I don’t think you can do anything really.”
“Just go,” I tell them both and stand as still as I can as they leave the room, taking with them the light from the hall as the door shuts. The creak of the steel is met with a thud and then the click of the lock. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Another moment of her small cries and then a scream. A terrified scream.
“What did I do that earned me this?” I question her although I know she can’t hear. I haven’t touched her; we haven’t even started. I almost touch the cuts on her wrists, but I pull back. I’ll give her ointment and bandages in the morning. She’ll have to do it herself until she earns my touch.
“Please don’t,” she begs in her sleep. Her words are whispered so softly, and I wonder if they came out that way in her dream. “Please,” she begs.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, songbird,” I tell her softly and consider my own sanity in this moment. “You never had a choice. The moment your father left me alive, your fate was sealed,” I confess to her. Something I’ve never said aloud to anyone.
He should have killed me. It’s Nicholas Talvery’s fault I’m allowed to live another day.
His fault… and someone else’s. The moment the thought comes to me, I see her tremble. Beautifully weak on the cold, unforgiving ground, the sleep taking more and more of her as her words become quieter.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and it’s the only part of her that moves. “Please.” Her lips mouth the word.
Kneeling before her, I’m slow and deliberate as I pick her up. Conscious of where my gun is tucked away in case she’s playing me. She’s light and fits easily into my arms. I thought she may fight me. That she’d react in fear to my touch. But instead, she molds her body to me and her slender fingers grip onto my shirt. Holding me tighter to her.
Her lips brush against the crook of my neck as I carry her the few feet to the mattress. Her pleas are still whispered, and the gentle warmth of her breath sends a tingle down my spine. I barely contain a groan of desire as I move her to the mattress. She clings to me still, holding tightly and begging me. This time she begs me not to leave her.
“Don’t go. Stay with me… please,” I barely hear her words. Her face is still pained, but there’s gentleness in her cries as I shift her onto the mattress.
Her hand fits in mine as I pull her fingers from me and place them on her chest. Her chest rises and falls as she calms herself, slowly drifting to a different place.
Time passes quickly. Too quickly as I sit on the mattress, making it dip with my weight and staring down at her. Her heavy sighs emphasize her breasts, the bit of lace from her black bra peeking from her shirt. It almost tempts me as much as the dip of her waist.
My gaze caresses each curve of her body as I remember the first time I heard her name.
The day my life changed forever.
Her bed groans in protest as Aria turns in her sleep, settling into the mattress and my body stiffens. I shouldn’t be here right now. That’s not how I gain the control I want. I can’t breathe until she’s still and her own breathing evens out. But as I move to stand, shifting my weight ever so slightly, the mattress slumps and her hand falls, her soft fingers brushing mine, the tips touching.
My hand stays still beneath hers, but it begs me to explore. To thread my fingers between hers. Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, I remind myself that there is time.
Time will change everything.
My eyes open at the reminder. Just like that day did years ago.
The day my father dropped me off at the corner of West and Eighth by the liquor store to sell that last bit of his pain pills. I was more approachable, according to him and we needed to pay the bills. It didn’t matter what I said or how much I didn’t want to do it. I was the oldest of five, my mother was dead, and I had nothing left in me. Nothing but pain.
My father dropped me off on Talvery’s territory unknowingly. And it wasn’t long before I learned what it meant to sell drugs on his ground.
I was only a child before that day.
But one day changes everything.
