In My Arms You Shall Hide

Chapter 27

Kittie

“ T hen you’re supposed to roll them into neat little balls and voilà!” I hold out one of the rough meatballs in display.

Cory eyes me skeptically. We’re in the kitchen, covered in flour handprints. We’ve been working on the meatball recipe I pulled from a dusty cookbook in the cupboard, and it’s been a rocky adventure, to say the least. Mixing bowls and utensils fill the sink and surrounding counters.

I carefully place the meatball on the corner of the baking sheet. It joins the others, some well-formed, others misshapen.

Cory studies it but then scowls down at the raw meat in his hands. “Is it supposed to stick to my skin this much?”

“Did you flour your hands like I said?”

Grumbling, suddenly bashful, he says, “I didn’t like how the flour felt.”

I giggle and walk to the sink to wash my hands. “That’s okay! What really matters is that they taste good.”

“Let’s hope,” he replies. “We did follow the recipe.”

“It’ll be fine!” I tell him and dry my hand on the rag on the counter. Cory shoves his hands under the running water right after me, scrubbing every inch with a look of disgust.

The gravel crinkles outside under the weight of tires.

“Oh, that’s probably Dorian!”

“I would hope so,” he says, patting his hands dry on his jeans. “Maybe he’ll be a better Sous Chef than I am.”

I eagerly go to the window to look through the blinds, waiting for my heart to fill with affection from simply seeing the familiar BMW. Instead, I frown at a red Pontiac pulling down the driveway.

I pull back from the window, fearful of being spotted. My heart thumps irregularly at the prospect of more of the outside world pouring in.

Cory frowns. “Kittie, what’s wrong?”

“S–Someone’s…” I stammer, chewing my lip and trailing off. “Someone’s here.”

Cory ventures to the window next to me. I hope to see recognition on his face when he peers out through the blinds, but there’s only more confusion.

I expect Cory to hide me, but Dorian had issued a simple decree last week: this place is not my prison.

“Stay here while I answer the door. Whomever it is, I’ll send them away.”

“Okay,” I agree, my body slightly relaxing.

A car door slams, and Cory heads toward the front door.

I linger in the kitchen. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I carefully lift the blinds to peek outside again. My heart jumps into my throat when I recognize the person stepping out of the car.

“That’s my dad!” I gasp.

Cory halts at the threshold and exchanges glances with me.

“I’m…” I grasp for the words as I break out into a cold sweat. What is he doing here?

Out of all the people in the world, my father is the last one I want on the doorstep. Seeing him walking up the pathway as if on a mission splits open my heart. Old pain seeps out. I spent years trying to forget him, and now that long-forgotten memories have resurfaced, it feels like a boogeyman is marching up toward the door.

Thankfully, Cory can see the fear on my face. “I’ll get rid of him.”

I watch him cut through the dining room toward the hallway. The doorbell rings over and over again before he reaches it, making my heart sputter out of control.

Cory opens the door and spills light onto the hallway floor.

Before he can say anything, my dad shouts, “Where is she? Where is my daughter, you son of a bitch?”

I jolt at the sound and watch their shadows move in the rectangle of light on the hallway floor. Someone throws their hands around, and I inch further back into the kitchen.

“Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cory says calmly.

“I know you have my daughter!”

I clamp my hands over my ears. My father’s voice brings back a torrent of memories that I buried and never intended to unpack.

“Just quit your blubbering, Kat. You want something to cry about?”

“Maybe if your mother didn’t spoil you, I wouldn’t have to lock you in here—did you think about that?”

“Be quiet. If I have to keep you, I don’t want to hear you. It should be like you’re not even here, Kat.”

“I never asked for this—for you. I never asked for this damn burden.”

“Who is your daughter, sir?” Cory asks, breaking me from my spiral of memories. “I can help you if you calm down.”

“Don’t give me that! You have my Kat in there. I know what you all are doing!”

I lower my hands from my face in confusion. The voice hasn’t changed, but the words and tones have. My dad never wanted me around, but now he’s shown up to rip me away—for what?

I don’t get a chance to figure it out. I watch Cory stagger back into the hallway, pushing against my dad as he tries to force his way inside.

At the last second, I duck further into the kitchen, but it’s too late. Footsteps thunder through the dining room. The boogeyman that haunts my dreams has stepped into reality. Age touches his face, but the weariness and emptiness remain in his eyes.

Before I can speak, before I can even think of what to say, my dad grabs me and rips me painfully toward him.

This is all wrong. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen. I curse my past self, the one who hoped someone would come and rescue me. Now, I pray that Cory can stop him from stealing me away from my home.

Except Cory’s gone. He was in the hallway, and I thought he followed after my him, but my dad now has an unobstructed pathway toward the front door.

I struggle to keep up with him, his fingers twisting into my skin. I stumble over my feet, tears in my eyes.

“Had I known this is where you’d been this entire time, I would have burned this place to the ground,” he grumbles, partly to himself. I don’t understand what he’s talking about. “I was too much of a coward. Thought I deserved it all.”

When we reach the porch, I plant my feet on the top step and fight against his hold, even though he’s laughably stronger than me.

“Stop! Let me go!”

Instead, he squeezes my wrist even harder. Shock widens his eyes. “What’s wrong with you? I’m trying to save you, Kat. I’m trying to do the right thing. You’re all messed up right now, but—”

I grind my teeth, using my full weight to try and break free. “I haven’t seen you in years! And now you come back just to take me away from my home?”

“Home? Katherine, this isn’t your home. This is your cage! You’ve been gone for months!”

“Stop—” I manage to get out before he heaves, and I fall. He clutches onto my arm, which keeps me from catching myself on the handrail. I trip down the remaining three steps, my knees taking the brunt of the impact as I hit the gravel and let out a yelp.

My dad says half of my name as he stands over me, refusing to give up my hand so I can get to my feet.

There’s a loud, metallic crack of a shotgun racking. My father and I look up at the same time.

Cory stands on the front step with a black pump-action shotgun ready and aimed right at my father. “Unhand her,” he demands.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you brainwash my daughter!”

I’m about to say something, maybe another plea to let go of me, but then he drags me through the gravel. I cry out, trying to wriggle free or catch my footing.

Boom! The shotgun’s blast is deafening as Cory steps out from the under-hang of the porch and fires into the sky. A shell clatters against the steps, and my dad drops my arm.

I catch myself. Tiny stones dig into the palms of my hands. Slowly pushing myself to sit up, I wince at the pain.

Cory’s command is strong and even, “Leave, or I will fire at you next.” I wonder what sort of life he led before this one so that he could be so calm while threatening a man.

“I’m not leaving my daughter,” my dad tells him acidly, but he retreats a few steps.

I’m not your daughter , I want to say. Not anymore.

As I rub my wrist, I glance up at him. Raney’s father emerges at the forefront of my thoughts. “Please leave. They’re not known for idle threats around here.”

There’s a wild, crazed look in my dad’s—Tucker’s—eyes. His face looks the same as the last time I saw him over a decade ago. Aside from some lines and a few strands of silver hair, he hasn’t changed, but he doesn’t look or feel familiar. The only thing I feel when he reaches down and yanks me off the ground is fear.

In the distance, an engine roars. I glance down the gravel road, and my breath catches. A black BMW races down the road, kicking up dust. My heart sings for it.

The commotion causes Tucker to flinch, but he manages to throw his driver’s door open before pulling me inside, forcing me to fall across the center console. I hit the passenger door with my shoulder and struggle to get my bearings.

The BMW whips to a stop just before the roundabout. I watch Dorian leap out before entirely stopping the car. With the engine running, he races toward us, fury lacing his face.

I awkwardly pull myself up and yank my legs over the center console just as Tucker climbs in behind me. I open the passenger door, planning to throw myself onto the ground.

I don’t get the chance. In the next instant, Tucker stomps on the gas, and the force pushes me back against the seat as he flies down the road, the door nearly slamming on my fingers.

“Stop!” I scream over the growl of the engine.

Tucker ignores me. He barrels down the long driveway without stopping, throwing up gravel that pelts the underside of his car. I glance through the rear window and see Cory climbing into the BMW with his shotgun.

The sharp turn onto the main road has me clamoring to the door from the jarring force, throwing me off balance. I realize he’s driving for the mountain, but I don’t know what’s up there. Houses and yards become increasingly scarce as greenery envelopes us on all sides, the road ascending.

“What are you doing?” I demand. My heart is loud in my ears, and my entire body grows tense from a surge of adrenaline.

“What are you doing, Kat?” he thunders in return. His scowl brought another wave of unpleasant memories from my childhood. “That man is dangerous, and you’re fighting to stay with him?”

“You’re the one who’s dangerous!” I shout. “Take me back!”

Tucker continues to speed up the winding roads toward the mountain. He gets dangerously close to the edge of the pavement as the vehicle becomes harder and harder for him to control with such sharp curves in the road. Through the window, the steep, tree-covered mountainside stretches below, the guardrail separating us from tumbling down.

“What are you even trying to accomplish?” I ask, exasperated. “You always thought I was a burden. Why are you coming back to rip apart the only thing I have?”

I might have been a burden and a hassle to Tucker, but I’m not one to Dorian and the others. And even if it’s dangerous or too much to ask, I pray that Dorian will come to save me.

When Tucker tries to look at me again, he swerves.

The car scrapes along the guardrail, causing the briefest spark and a long, metallic hiss.

I shriek, preparing for us to break through and fall.

Please , I wish with my whole heart, please, Dorian, save me.

Tucker licks his lips, words rushing out of him in a string of delirium, “When you went missing, Kat, I realized I fucked up.” I can barely hear him over the sounds of the car and the tires on the road. He hunches over the wheel, erratic and twitchy. “I’ve been alone for a long time now. When your mom told me you disappeared, I knew I’d messed up with you.”

“I had to die before you cared,” I say in stark realization, my voice swallowed by the engine growling as he stomps on the gas again.

The Pontiac jettisons up an incline, and I clutch the door handle, sure we’ll flip at any moment. When the incline plateaus, a left turn in the road signaled by two large, yellow signs urges drivers to slow down. When we reach the hilltop, I feel another scream leave me as he slams the brakes, causing the tires to shriek against the road.

The car fishtails slightly, leaving two black tire marks on the road.

We slow onto the shoulder, the car rocking on the uneven forest floor. I dare to look up into the rearview, studying the black streaks behind us. In the distance, I catch sight of a black car.

The terrain flattens, mostly level with the road. We sit at the foot of the remaining mountain edge, the peak above us. Trees stretch as far as the eye can see, the left extending upward, the right leveling out before continuing the downward path of the mountain.

I open the door again. Tucker takes his foot off the brake, allowing the car to lurch forward as he turns to me and reaches out to grab me. His fingers brush my arm before I push myself out onto the ground.

Though the car slows, the impact of hitting the ground and rolling splashes white across my vision. My head cracks against something hard and jagged, causing time to stop for a second.

In the next instant, I blink to try and regain my sight. Air leaves me as the pain flips the ground and the sky.

I push past it, cold sweat forming across my brow. The opening of the driver’s side door and footsteps crunching against the leaf-covered ground spurn me forward into the thicket. I scramble to my feet, only to have my legs give out, leaving me to kick uselessly against the dirt.

Tucker stomps toward me as I roll onto my back, trying to pull away from him.

“Why are you making this so damn difficult?” he says through his teeth. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to make this right? I’m trying to save your life!”

I can’t get away.

All at once, I experience a genuine, gut-churning fear I’ve never felt before. When I tried to escape Dorian, he frightened me, but I welcomed it in the forbidden part of my brain. I trusted and knew he loved me, even if I resented him for it at the time. Back then, I thought that was real fear. But Tucker breathes life into a dormant, desperate terror. He grabs at my legs, and I try to kick at him. No matter what his words mean, they don’t match his actions.

Then, in the flashes of my vision cut up in my struggle, I spot the BMW fly off the main road and screech into the grassy shoulder. I can’t see the movements behind Tucker, but I catch glimpses of Cory emerging from the driver’s side and Dorian throwing himself from the passenger seat with something dark in his hand.

“Stop fighting me, Kat,” Tucker snarls and clutches a handful of my sweater. “Why can’t you see I’m trying to help—”

“Dorian!”

“ Him? ” he roars at me. “You want help from—”

Tucker’s words die on his tongue. When Dorian reaches him, he swings a tire iron overhead and cracks it against the back of his knee. The impact causes Tucker to scream and collapse onto the dirt beside me.

I yelp, only to feel arms around me in the next second. Cory lowers himself to the leaf-covered ground and pulls me across the dirt toward him.

Tucker whimpers, crawling on his hands and knees. Dorian stops him by pressing a foot to the small of his back and forcing the man onto his stomach.

Passing the tire iron between his hands, he peels off his coat and disregards it in the dirt. He wrenches his tie down until it loosens the knot. Once he yanks it from his neck and tosses it onto the ground, he rakes his fingers through his hair, smoothing the loose strands back. In a chilling voice, he speaks down to Tucker, “I should’ve killed you the first time.”

The first time? I try connecting the dots between this admission and everything Tucker ranted about a few minutes ago. Had he come for me before? Is it another memory I’ve lost?

“Now, you give me the explicit pleasure of beating you to death in front of your daughter,” he snarls. Dorian glances at me and presses his Oxford firmly against Tucker’s back. Holding his weapon in one hand, he lifts his chin to me. His voice softens, but the darkness never leaves. “Are you hurt, Kittie?”

Cory slips an arm beneath mine and tries to help me to my feet. I only get a few inches off the ground, leaning heavily on him, before my legs buckle and my head begins to spin. Gray dots fill my vision, and I flop back onto the dirt.

I miss Dorian’s reaction to my failed attempt to stand, but when I lift my eyes, he grabs a handful of Tucker’s hair as if he’s yanking a weed from a garden. He angles his face toward me.

“Is that your doing?”

“She…she…” Tucker stammers but can’t complete his sentence.

“The last man who dared to look at her lost his eyes. What do you think I should do to you ?”

“You wouldn’t…you couldn’t kill…”

“Couldn’t kill you?” Dorian barks in bitter laughter and drops Tucker’s head onto the ground. “I don’t think any of us have an issue with killing you. Do you, Cory?”

“No,” he agrees.

“Kitten?” he prompts affectionately.

Memories claw from the shadows of my mind. I know Tucker’s said and done far more to me than I’ve blocked out. I spent years believing that cutting me out of his life was the deepest wound he inflicted on me when in reality, it was a kindness.

And yet, he came back to inflict more pain under the guise of redeeming himself.

“No,” I say, voice flat. “I don’t.”

“Kat, no,” Tucker pleads.

Dorian chuckles. It’s nothing like the warm sound I love so much. It holds a depth of darkness that sends a chill down my spine. He lifts the tire iron over his head, and I look away in time to avoid watching him bring it down across Tucker’s shoulders.

His breathless screech of pain follows the loud thump of the impact.

Even if all traces of love—if they even existed in the first place—are gone, I don’t want to watch Tucker’s torture. I put his fate in Dorian’s hands but won’t delight in his suffering.

Cory’s arm tightens around my shoulders. He has to speak into my ear so that I can hear him over the torrent of blows and Tucker’s breathless screams for help. “Can you try and stand again, Kittie? You shouldn’t be here for this.”

When I dare to look up at Dorian, he strikes Tucker again before stopping and meeting my gaze. His hair hangs disheveled in his face, a rage unlike any I’ve ever seen boils within. I’m silent, yet something on my face conveys my thoughts.

Get it over with.

Dorian sighs before tossing the steel to the ground with a thud and kicks Tucker’s side, forcing him to roll over onto his back.

Patches of dirt and leaves stick to Tucker’s face as he lifts his hands defensively. His gaze skitters over Dorian, and when he can’t find his weapon, he lowers his guard. “You’re…you’re not going to kill me?” he gasps.

“You’re delusional,” he replies on the edge of mocking laughter, holding a hand out toward us.

Cory shifts against me. A flicker of silver whistles through the air overhead, and Dorian catches it.

A revolver. Cory’s thrown him a gun.

I blink, processing the scene before me as he pulls the hammer back and aims it at Tucker.

“Please!” he cries, holding his hands shielding his face. “I’m just trying to save her!”

“Oh, Tuck,” Dorian squeezes out one last mocking laugh before his features straighten, and darkness slants over his eyes again. “Someone has to save her from you .”

When he leans forward to shove the revolver into Tucker’s mouth, Cory clamps his hands over my ears and turns my head in the other direction.

I stare out at the mountain range from the opening in the trees. The gunshot explosion makes me flinch, and the noise sends birds flying halfway down the mountain.