In My Arms You Shall Hide

Chapter 14

Kittie

B y some measure, the entire house falls into a routine for the next two weeks. I land somewhere outside of it, watching as Raney and Cory wander about the house, cleaning as they go.

Raney balances the finances while Cory makes calls and runs errands. Apparently, there’s more than meets the eyes when it comes to the Ward property—and numerous other properties they own across the state. It keeps both parties busy at all times.

I linger by the sidelines. Considering I’m still recovering, Raney relegates me to the living room most of the time. It’s a massive room with locked bay windows covered by thin cotton curtains. That, or the parlor, a room with ornate, vintage furniture and a fireplace. Regardless of the room, I find myself in the middle of either crocheting or reading. These seem to be the hobbies that Raney heaps onto me, having Cory grab me supplies or books to read nearly every time he leaves.

Raney’s efforts to keep me still and plying me with over-the-counter pain medication is the only way to take away some of the pain of my healing ribs. I grapple with recovery and the worry at the back of my mind. I should be home, making sure the bills are being paid, the lawn is mowed, and my mom doesn’t miss her appointments.

My only job is to heal, Raney says. So, I’m stuck cycling through all my worries until they manifest into dread. I stop thinking about all the little things my mom relied on me to do for her and just think about her.

That…and plotting my escape.

It seems so easy. For these past two weeks, I’ve tried to spur myself on to do something— to run, to throw open a window and climb out, to do anything but sit like furniture.

But I’m never alone. Throughout the day, Raney pops her head into whatever room she’s placed me in every twenty minutes or less. She shares her meals with me and talks to me about the weather or my books, always with a smile.

And I adore her—she’s truly an angel in the middle of Hell—but I can’t stay here.

Dorian leaves early in the morning and comes home in the evening. His presence is both comforting like it had been when we first met—and now, also terrifying. He hasn’t brought up our spat over breakfast on my first day here. He joins Raney, Cory, and me at the dinner table. He speaks directly to me like nothing’s wrong.

And I find myself longing for a time when I didn’t know what he was capable of. My chest practically oozes with the desire for a version of him that probably isn’t even real. But even when I look at him, I can’t even muster any hatred or resentment, only confusion.

I doubt I’ll ever get any straight answers from him. Raney won’t be straightforward with me, and Cory doesn’t conceal his glares whenever I’m around. He’s just as terrifying now as he was on the first night I saw him.

Each time Dorian speaks to me, I don’t bother to answer and remain silent instead. Somehow, that’s even worse than not understanding the reasons why.

And one day, I’ll have to come to grips with never knowing. But for now, I’ve spent the last few days with my eyes on the door or out the window. It’s nearly impossible to try and glean the passcode from anywhere in the living room. I’d have to be directly in the hallway, looming over someone while they punch it in. Raney would be sweet enough to let me get close, but Cory has regarded me suspiciously since day one.

The security alarm’s loud , too, blaring like a horn throughout the halls, even in the sunroom on the other side of the estate. Raney accidentally opened the door more than once without disarming it, giving me an earful of what would no doubt alert everyone if I chose to try and bust out.

So, I continue to silently scheme and hold my breath for an opening.

Early that morning, Raney puts out a puzzle for me in the parlor, but I just stare at the pile of pieces on the coffee table. I’ve done so many that I don’t want to touch another puzzle as long as I live.

Sometime before what normally would be lunch, the stilted calm is interrupted by Raney and Cory barreling down the main staircase and into the living room. Their sudden urgency and grim faces have me scrambling. I press my back to the sofa as they rush toward me, sharp pain in my abdomen stealing my breath.

“What’s going on?” I demand, throat tightening.

Cory snatches me before I can dodge his bruising hands. He tucks me under one arm as I shriek, his iron face not moving an inch. He drags my feet across the carpet as they carry me up the staircase.

“Be careful with her,” Raney snaps, following behind us before her voice softens. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Kittie!”

Once we reach the second floor, Raney whips around us and pushes on a door. It crackles open, the hinges shrieking. Thick dust coats an empty desk and single rolling chair.

A single bookshelf stands at the far side of the room; its books were the only part of the room that make it look lived-in. When Raney tries to slide it away from the wall, she nearly knocks it over. After some struggling and rocking it out of the groove it’s made in the carpet, she reveals a small wooden door behind it.

Horror strangles me when she leans down and pops it open. Within lies a short opening beyond with exposed wall studs and heavy shadows. A trace amount of light from the office illuminates a concrete floor, but nothing more.

Raney ducks inside and kneels on the floor, holding her arms up. When Cory edges closer to it, I realize their intentions.

“No, no, no!” I cry, fighting with all my might against Cory as he inches me closer to the dark hole in the wall. Every time I try to kick my feet, it sends shockwaves of pain up through me, but I don’t dare stop.

Raney throws a pleading look in my direction. “We have to hide right now, Kittie. This is the only spot for us that he won’t check.”

Who is he ? I want to ask, but panic overrides my curiosity.

“Please, no, I’ll be quiet! I swear—”

I can’t finish my plea before Cory lowers me onto the carpet and proceeds to shove me toward the hole. The three-foot tall opening forces me to duck my head, and even up close, I don’t know how far the inside extends. It appears to be an eave’s attic, the walls covered in yellow-tinted foam.

Raney takes hold of my arms and hoists me closer to her; her grip isn’t as tight as Cory’s, but it’s strong. If trying to escape his hold hadn’t ignited coals of pain in my chest, I might have pushed against Raney and made a break for it. But the only strength I have is used trying to pull out of her grasp.

But Raney wins out in the end, yanking me further into the shadows.

“Please,” I try again.

“I’ll be right here,” she assures me, but the light across her pale face shows terror.

Then, before I can process what might have made her so scared, Cory shuts the door behind me and casts us both in pitch black.

There’s a hiss beyond the door as Cory moves the bookshelf back into position, sealing us inside.

An unspeakable, inescapable terror erupts from me, and I start screaming.

Despite the pain and quick-rising exhaustion in my body, I thrash about, throwing my back against the small door. I push with my feet off against the concrete as if I could use my full weight to open the door and knock the bookshelf down.

It doesn’t budge.

Somewhere in the distance, Raney calls to me.

Panic chokes me. I taste mildew on my tongue. The strangling sense of terror tells me that we’ll never leave this place.

Raney coils an arm around me while clamping a hand tightly over my mouth. It stifles most of my cries, and it isn’t until she’s stolen my screams that I feel tears streaming down my face and over her fingers.

“Shh. It’ll be okay,” she tells me, but even through my tremors, I can feel her body shaking against mine.

The walls crash in on us, seemingly growing smaller and smaller by the second. Time ticks on at an unknown pace.

I’ve been here before.

“I’ll come get you when you’ve learned your lesson.”

The memory of my father’s voice floats to the front of my brain. We’re not in an eaves attic. No, we’re in a closet, and in the darkness, I swear I can see clothes hanging over our heads and pairs of shoes in the corner. The ground’s cold, but I’m nearly sure it’s carpet, not concrete.

I hear distant voices. Raney doesn’t have to cover my mouth now because the air is heavy and drenched with tension. It steals my voice.

Has Dad put a chair under the handle again?

I blink, trying to cling to the present because I can feel myself sinking back into a memory I didn’t realize was there.

Being a little girl, spending summers with him when neither of us wanted that. He’d put me in the closet…

How had I forgotten?

“Please, Dad, let me out!”

But I can’t plead with my dad this time; Raney’s hand remains clamped over my mouth. But I know he’s outside…even as my memories blend and twist my reality, I know there’s only danger beyond the door.

“Katherine Starling?”

I flinch. Far away, a muffled voice calls for me, but I don’t recognize it. Raney locks up, and though I try to compartmentalize what sensations are all in my head and those in reality, I hang on to Raney’s reactions for dear life. She’s the only distinction between right now and back then.

A door creeks open, footsteps draw near.

“Sir, I told you, there’s no one—”

Whoever the man is, he doesn’t let Cory finish. “I’m not done looking quite yet, thanks. There’s a million hiding spots in this place.”

“You should really speak with Dorian. Katherine went missing , as I said. There’s no one else here.”

“And I’m supposed to believe he has nothing to do with that? Just like I’m supposed to believe he doesn’t have anything to do with my stepdaughter, I’m sure.”

Raney goes rigid, her fingers digging into my cheeks.

“You’re more than welcome to look wherever you want,” Cory grumbles, almost too quietly for me to hear through the door.

“You’re damn right. I’ll look wherever the fuck I want,” the stranger snaps. Footsteps drift away from the bookshelf, and for a second, I wait for silence, assuming they’ve left completely. Then, he adds, “This all should have been mine.”

Finally, we’re greeted by nothingness. I almost lament Cory and the stranger leaving. I don’t even have time to process who that might’ve been. I hoped it had been a police officer searching for me, but his mention of the estate—or whatever this all meant—confirms that it was someone else entirely.

Instead of dissecting the conversation, I fall deeper into my memories. I cling to Raney’s body, even as it relaxes. Her touch is the only thing keeping the memories of the closet at the fringes of my consciousness.

“Good for nothing.” Memories of father’s words echo in my head.

When will he come back? When can I come out?

And then, when it feels like an eternity passes, more footsteps kick my heart into overdrive.

Then, the light hits us. I squeeze my eyes shut as the door flies open. Raney’s hands disappear from me, and I turn on my aching legs.

“ Katherine ,” a horrified voice calls for me. Hands gather me from the floor.

Blinded against the light of the office, I throw my arms around whoever is pulling me out. I think my dad has returned for me for one maddening second.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” I sob, digging my fingers into the thick wool that covers his shoulders.

Whoever wraps their arms around me, pulling me close to them, feels too broad to be my father.

It isn’t the frame of the man holding me, but the smell of him that gives him away. Between the hitches of my breath, I breathe in his scent and find myself in the circle of Dorian’s arms.

“Easy, sweetheart, easy ,” he chants, trying to calm me.

I surface completely to the present. The years that exist between now and then finally return to me, but all they do is reduce me to weeping.

Dorian presses my face to his chest, hushing me. I claw at his clothes, clinging to him as if he’s a life raft. He might not be who I thought he was, but he’s infinitely safer than these fresh memories.

“What the hell were you thinking? Hiding here of all places.”

“It’s the only place my dad wouldn’t look,” Raney replies thinly as she crawls out behind me.

“It took me forty-five minutes to get here!” Dorian thunders and I flinch against the venom of his voice. “She’s been in here that entire time?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Cory snaps. “Your uncle took his sweet time turning over the place. I texted you as soon as I let him in. Maybe if you’d been here to deal with him, they wouldn’t have had to be in there for so long.”

“ You— ”

“I’m sorry,” I croak. “I’m…so sorry.”

The apology I utter while lifting my face from his jacket causes him to look down at me. The fury and rage there are snuffed out in an instant.

I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know who Raney’s dad—or Dorian’s uncle—is or why we both had to hide from him. I can only assume I must remain a secret from the outside world, but why does Raney look so scared?

All I know is I’ll do anything to avoid returning to the dark.

Before I can say anything more, Dorian slips his other arm beneath my knees and gets to his feet, lifting me into a carry. I cling to him still, my arms coiled tightly around his neck. As we leave the office, I whip my head and eyes away from the open eaves attic door, flinching as if the darkness can bite.

Cory and Raney’s footsteps follow Dorian down the steps until we enter the kitchen. He shifts before carefully sitting me on the counter’s edge by the stove.

I watch Dorian as he rummages through the cabinets around the sink. He’s still in his shoes and coat; he hasn’t taken even a second to remove them.

When he finds what he’s looking for, the others step into the kitchen, looking wary.

Dorian hardly acknowledges them as he places a bottle of aspirin on the counter. “I understand that I’m at fault for this, but half a dozen places in the estate would have made for a better hiding spot than in my father’s old office.”

“My dad knows all the usual hiding places,” Raney insists. “We used to live here too, if you’ve forgotten.”

“I know,” he responds, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You made the right call, just the wrong execution.”

I glance up at Raney for only a brief second, but she doesn’t meet my eyes and stares at the floor instead.

Dorian carefully sets both his hands on either side of me. He lets out a sigh. I peel my gaze from Raney and lift my eyes to his.

“You want to tell me what happened in there?” Dorian prods lightly. His light, beautiful eyes scan my face. “Did you hurt anything?”

Beautiful ? When did I start thinking that again?

I don’t know what to say. I feel torn across equal parts terror at the dark memories clawing at the back of my mind and relief that Dorian came for me.

And it’s insane that I’m so glad he came. I’m struck by the intensity of the relief warming my chest, and I have no words. I can’t speak at all.

Dorian places his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to stare into his eyes. I find sadness there so heavy that I’m pricked with pity.

“You’re safe now. You’re not going back there.” His promise has so much conviction that I believe him. I savor the warmth of his hands and nearly melt against the touch.

“Dorian,” Cory interjects, “there’s no other hidden place that Paul doesn’t know about. If—”

This notion, the idea that Cory might sway him, makes me panic again. I stare at Dorian, petrified that he’ll rescind this promise.

“No, no,” he says softly, bringing his face closer to mine. His eyes lock with mine, and for a second of madness, I wonder if he’ll kiss me. “You’re never going back there again.” Lowering his hands from my face, he pulls back and turns, stern voice returning. “Am I making myself clear?”

I know those words are for the others, but neither reply.

Dorian parts from me long enough to go to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water. He returns while twisting the cap and then holds it out to me. “Drink it slow.”

“Do you—”

Raney doesn’t get to finish her thought. Dorian waves to both of them without looking away from me. “I think you’ve both done enough today. Why don’t you pack it in?”

“Are you sure?” Cory asks.

“Positive.”

I listen to the footsteps that fade from the kitchen. When I glance over my shoulder to watch them leave, Dorian’s steady voice catches me. “ Drink , Kittie. You need it.”

I don’t want to disobey. I feel the condensation on my fingers and realize I am thirsty. I bring the bottle up to my lips to sip the icy water. The water sloshes around in the plastic as my hands shake.

Dorian speaks to me with care, “When I pulled you out, you apologized to your father. Why?”

I lower the bottle. My voice has returned, but it’s quiet and uncertain, “I remembered something from a long time ago.”

“What’s that, Kittie?”

A dark veil falls over his features. There’s muted rage on his face, but he tries rearranging himself as calmly as possible.

“I forgot…that my father would lock me up in my closet for hours whenever I was little. It’s like…the eaves attic brought it all back.”

For only an instant, a deep rage widens his eyes. The entirety of him tenses, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Then, as soon as it appears on his face, it all vanishes behind the cold, stone mask.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he says softly, placing his hand on the nape of my neck. He takes the bottle from me, bringing it to my mouth. “I don’t want you to spill all over yourself. Let me help.”

Obediently, I part my lips and let him pour water into my mouth. I linger on the warmth of his fingers on my jaw, brushing my neck. He lets me drink slowly, but I can hardly focus on the water with him so close. Something unfolds in my stomach, something that warms me to his touch.

What’s wrong with me?