56. Matthias
Chapter 56
Matthias
“Let me see your stitches,” Scarlet says the second she comes through the hidden door in the bookcase. Her hands are full with the same medical aid case she’s brought with her the last three days and a small brown bag.
Each day has been nearly identical. Get the shit kicked out of me the night before and wake up to her complaining about me tearing my stitches the next morning.
I take the bag she holds out for me and search through it to see a sandwich and a crisp green apple.
My stomach growls, and her lips twitch.
I raise the sandwich to my mouth, pausing right before my first bite. “You’re not going to poison me, are you?”
“I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but I don’t need to poison you in this situation.” Her gaze roams over my chains, then my cut.
“Fair.” I take a bite, ignoring the pain in my gums, and hum in the back of my throat. If this is how she’s going to kill me, I’m down.
I finish in a few short bites and tuck the apple near the wall for later. I’m not sure what she risks by coming here, but I’m positive neither of us wants to find out.
She holds up a thin antibacterial cloth. “Ready?”
I flinch back. “No fucking way. That shit hurts.”
“And you called me the prissy one. It’s not that bad.” She chuckles, and it’s a light, cheerful sound, one that doesn’t belong anywhere near here. The fact that she’s able to make it tells me there’s nothing about this that shocks her. I hate the thought of her being the one on the receiving end of her family’s pitifulness. She’s strong, maybe even stronger than me.
The entire situation pulls on my pride, and I force myself to stay perfectly still as she pokes at her stitches for several seconds.
Her neck is inches from my nose, and the sweet smell of citrus and vanilla fills my senses, momentarily stealing all of the blood from my brain.
Scarlet pulls back, completely unaware of the state I’m in, and smiles. “See? Not too bad. It’s ugly, like I figured, but at least you aren’t bleeding everywhere.”
She grabs a regular face cloth from her bag and soaks it with a bottle of water before rubbing it harshly against my neck.
“Hey.” I inhale sharply. “That hurts.”
Little nails dig into my skin as she holds me still. “Relax. You’re covered in blood. If we get out of here, you’ll have to pay me to keep all your whining a secret.”
“You don’t need to be so aggressive.”
She smiles, a glint in her eyes. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
Ignoring the warmth spreading through my chest, I take her in as she cleans, not bothering to tell her I can do it myself.
She looks better. The bruise around her eye is a faint yellow. Relief releases the tension in my muscles as I scan her, happy there’s no signs of new marks. At least I know my plan to keep Christopher’s attention on me is working.
She’s pulled her hair into a ponytail-bun thing that sits messily at the top of her head. An oversized sweatshirt falls below her thighs, covering bright purple leggings. It’s such a far cry from the perfectly styled pieces I’m used to seeing her in.
“Nice outfit.”
“You’re one to talk.” She tosses her cloth back into her bag and sits with her back against the wall beside me, her head tipped back and her eyes closed. She’s left herself completely vulnerable to me, and instead of taking advantage, a sense of power flows through me at her trust.
I shake the feeling off and sit in an identical position beside her. She shouldn’t be here, but I selfishly don’t want her to go. When she’s here, everything else washes away as all of my attention fixes on her. I want to live in these stolen moments. I want them to stretch out forever until the only reality is me and her.
I close my eyes and pretend like we’re anywhere else.
We sit in silence for several moments. She’s practically vibrating against the stillness beside me. Clearly, my Little Sparrow does not like the quiet. I count the seconds in my head. Five, four, three, two…”
“Do you like sweet or savory?”
“That’s really the question you’re going to ask me?”
“Come on. You’ve got to be bored here.”
Bored? Not with the way the heat from her arm transfers into mine. I wait until I can feel her ready to wring my neck before answering. “Sweet.”
There’s something about riling her up that gets to me. To be fair, I don’t give a fuck what we talk about when she glares at me like that. I just want her to stay. She helps me forget this fucked-up situation. I’m not stupid enough to think we’re getting out. A part of me doesn’t want Damon to show up because if they catch him, this is all over.
Christopher’s clever. He knows he can’t leave any of us alive if he plans on taking the Everette family’s spot in the Order of Saints.
Scarlet doesn’t force me to answer, instead filling the silence with random, meaningless things that calm me way more than it should.
“You know, I’m kind of jealous of you.” Her voice is soft, and she’s staring at a moth fluttering around the ceiling light.
“Me? Chained and about to die?”
She shrugs. “First, you’re not going to die. That big brother of yours is going to get you out of here.” She sounds so positive that a trickle of hope slips in.
A blankness takes over her features. “Death is its own form of freedom though. At least that’s the last decision anyone can make for you.”
An eerie feeling prickles down my neck and sits like a rock in my stomach. What has she been going through to talk like that?
I brush back a strand of her hair, my handcuffs clicking together. “Don’t give them that kind of power over you.”
Her eyes close, breath leaving her. “What if it’s my decision? My power for once.”
A shudder runs through me as my blood grows cold. “Don’t talk like that.”
She smiles up at me, a lightness in her tone that makes me think I’ve imagined everything she just said. “What will you do when you escape? I know what I’d do.”
“What’s that?” I humor her, not wanting that sadness to creep back in.
“Run.” She sighs out a breath. “They’re trying to force me to marry some old guy. All this talk about duties and alliances. Like I don’t know I’ve been sold .”
My teeth grind together. “What do you mean? They’re marrying you off now ?” I knew she was betrothed, but even in our fucked-up world, the marriage wouldn’t happen until after she turns eighteen.
“Yeah, that’s why they’re keeping me here.” She smiles, eyes trained on that moth. “They’re worried I’ll run away.”
Fuck.
She trails her fingers along her neck. “I guess they don’t think I need to be shackled to keep me in line.”
I bump her shoulder with mine, drawing her attention. “I’m glad they underestimated you.”
That earns me a smirk and a minuscule shake of her head. I want her attention back on me. I want to know everything about her, so I ask, “If you could choose, what would your future look like?”
Tears pool at the corner of her eyes. “If I got out, I wouldn’t even think about settling down until I’m twenty-five. No men, no expectations, no commitment. Complete freedom.”
My chest clenches because I want to give that to her. Rage boils in my stomach, knowing I won’t be able to see it happen. Knowing that even if I find a way to get her and my brothers out of here, there’s no escaping for me. If Damon does show up and all of us die, I swear I’ll get her out first. I’ll grant her wish before those bastards get to kill me. I’ve come to terms with dying. It’s enough to know she’ll be free.
“Oh yeah? Then what?” I want her to tell me everything so I can survive on the thoughts of her when she’s out of here.
She turns to me with a genuine smile. “Then I’ll find a guy, get married, and have a half dozen kids. Live in an eggshell-blue house with white trim and a wood shake roof. With a wraparound porch and a tire swing hanging from a tree. I want to be chased around my backyard by jelly-covered faces. Is that too much to ask?”
I can picture her, hair lifted by the wind, as kids that look just like her follow behind. I suck in a raspy breath and scrunch my nose to hide my thoughts. “That sounds awful.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Maybe, but it sounds perfect to me.”
“I’ll get you out of here,” I promise.
A sad smile curves her lips. “No you won’t.” She starts to collect all her things, tossing them into her bag. “By the end, you won’t even want to.”
I hate the way she doesn’t meet my eyes. She doesn’t realize just how impossible her words are. “They won’t break me.”
“I know.” She tilts her head toward me and brushes her fingertips over her lips. “Kiss me.”
I swallow hard, not trusting my own ears. “What?”
“I don’t want my first kiss to be some gross old guy who’s willing to marry a fifteen-year-old girl.”
All I see is blue when she says, “I want it to be you.”
I twist so that I’m kneeling in front of her and lean forward until my forehead presses against hers. I inhale each of her breaths as I build up the nerve to speak. “I’ll be the one to marry you when you turn twenty-five.”
Her eyes shoot wide, but I kiss her before she can say anything. I know I won’t be alive by then. I know I’m going to die chained to this wall, but that doesn’t mean I can’t want it.
I deepen the kiss, running my tongue along hers. She’s inexperienced, and I hate the fact that I won’t be here to fix that, at the same time loving that she’ll be my last. I break the kiss and move to the side, ignoring the pounding of my heart. There’s a cruelty to letting me find her here.
“You should run along now, Little Sparrow. Don’t come back.”