Chapter Five
Brit
The fresh air in my lungs was glorious as I fled through the trees and out onto the gravel driveway. I’d left Fly with the impression that I would bring some food and we’d discuss a plan. I’d underestimated his hatred for me and had hoped by tending to his wounds, he’d soften a little.
My heart still pounded at the hatred in his eyes as he’d pinned me on the bed and against the wall. He had a switch inside that was clearly marked Batshit Crazy mode. And I had happened to flip it with my loyalty to The Reason. I hadn’t been so scared since my father had threatened to disown me.
“Hello, daughter,” my father’s voice boomed from beside the Bentley, which sat on the drive. “I was just about to come and look for you.”
My arms were suddenly grabbed by John and another guard, who smiled apologetically. I tried to pull free, but they held firm on either side of me, gazing reverently at my father as he approached.
“John spotted you paying the lodge a little visit.” Chad stood in front of me, the sun glinting off his glasses as he stared. “So I checked the cameras in the house. Seems that you helped our guest to clean up. You also got close on the bed, you little hussy.”
My eyes stretched and I shook my head, trying to deny the truth. “I-I was luring him into a trap,” I stammered, “I wanted to suggest a throw-down between the two of you.”
John’s fingers squeezed my arm and I glanced at him. He kept his gaze forward, avoiding eye contact, but his lips were pulled down in a frown.
“A throw-down?” my father exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind, girl?”
Pushing on with my plan, I reached for his arm. “He’s seriously wounded. Can you imagine the joy you’d bring to our people by humiliating that man and showing him why you’re The Reason? And also showing him that no one gets to escape.”
“Wounded?” Chad’s eyes honed in on me, his skin going white.
Oh no, I’d just triggered his cold mood. What was wrong with me today? Why was I setting off all the men and making them want to kill me?
“Are you implying that I couldn’t beat Nate if he wasn’t wounded?”
Ah, that was my mistake. My father’s ego was bigger than the moon. His narcissist traits were emboldened by the people’s faith in him and I’d just kicked him in the metaphorical balls. Fly had certainly thrown me off and now all my Chad handling tactics had flown out of the window.
“Of course not,” I replied, “You’d beat him easily. I just thought, you could cause him more pain… on his wound. You know?”
Looking down at his hands, my father picked at his nail. “The thing that’s so painful to me about this whole scenario is the betrayal, Brittney.”
Shit. He said my whole name. I was in serious trouble.
“I haven’t–”
“Shush!” He held up a hand to halt me from speaking. “I haven’t finished.”
I stared down at the tiny stones at my feet, shrinking in on myself, just like I had since the age of three, when he’d caught me picking up and throwing the gravel on the driveway.
He’d berated me, hundreds, if not thousands, of times since then.
And each time, I’d died a little inside. It was a wonder I was still alive.
“You went behind my back twice,” he continued, his shadow moving as he shuffled his feet, “and you need to learn a lesson. Take her to the back wing.”
My gaze shot up and my stomach lurched into my throat.
“What? No! You can’t, please!”
The guards started to march me away, their fingers biting into my arms and forcing me to walk between them.
I tried to look over my shoulder at my father, pleading with my eyes, but he stood staring at his hand, picking furiously at his nail.
It was a habit of his when he was angry, one that frightened me even more than Fly.
That man was about to cause some serious harm.
“Please,” I begged John, “Let me go.”
He shook his head firmly, a sad expression crossing his features as we went through the front door and towards the double doors of the ritual room.
“I’m sorry, Brit, but you knew he’d find out what you’ve been up to.” John unlocked the door with a master key and pushed me through, quickly closing it behind us. “I’ve told you that you can’t just do as you please. None of us can.”
“The Reason is all powerful,” the other guard said as they walked me towards the stage, taking a right when we reached the front of the chairs. “You have to obey him in everything, or you’ll never be cleansed.”
I glanced at the older man and blinked. “Don’t you think I know that? I will become The Reason one day and–”
“Or you might not,” the man interrupted me with a shrug. “It’s not guaranteed.”
We came to a stop in front of a bolted metal door. I tried to backtrack, my feet skidding on the wooden floor. They held me firm and unbolted the door, opening it silently and pushing me inside. I jumped as the metal slammed behind me, leaving me all alone.
The dark wood-paneled corridor was lit by light bulbs that had no shades.
The back wing was a maze of rooms. No one liked being inside because my father had claimed it was haunted and played cruel games with some of the people who had displeased him.
He’d put bars across the windows so no one could see inside.
Lifting my shoulders, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the entrance area, straight into an open hall.
To the left was a corridor that led to the kitchen, its door stood open.
Straight ahead was the bottom of the stairs, which curved into a semi-circle at the bottom before hugging the wall as the steps rose up.
To the left of that was an open archway that led to a living room with couches and a television. The mix of modern vs ancient was interesting.
On the left wall, before the archway, was a thick wooden door, closed tightly and guarded by an electric number pad. My father’s private office, I assumed.
I’d never been in the wing before, despite the numerous times my father had threatened me. I’d heard the tales of his games though and had chosen not to believe them.
Melody had claimed that he’d shut her in once and watched her on cameras, talking to her through speakers in the walls. She’d had a vivid imagination, even going so far as to believe that Nate – Fly – had returned her crush.
Shaking my head to banish the memories, I hugged myself and ventured to the stairs, slowly treading up them.
Once at the top, I looked down the corridor, which had several doors off it.
At the end, it met another corridor that ran to the left and the right.
Why would my father use this place as a playground?
It was creepy as hell. The carpet was original and extremely worn, as were the paintings on the wall.
I didn’t even know who they were or why he’d kept them there.
The skin on my arms grew cold and the hairs stood up. There was something off about this place, and yet, the curious in me wondered what each room contained. I walked up to the end of the corridor, looking left and right before turning again. There were more doors to rooms and no escape route.
Trying to shake the feeling of unease, I rushed back downstairs and into the front room.
“Oh,” I exclaimed, staring at the stone inglenook fireplace that was on the inner wall.
There were a couple of old chairs in front of the huge fireplace and a small table.
The hearth was bare, the iron grate empty.
There were fresh flowers on the windowsill, which were so out of place in the half and half room.
The two couches were in front of the windows, the television on the wall nearby.
The bars of the windows were thick, blocking out a lot of the view. No one could escape, which was exactly my father’s plan. Surely the rumors hadn’t been true?
Moving back out into the corridor, I went to the kitchen, which had a more modern feel.
It had been updated with a newer island, although the Aga still rested against the stone wall and the small window only allowed a touch of light.
A wooden table stood in front of the fireplace and a sofa was shoved in the corner, completely out of place.
“This place is crazy,” I whispered to myself.
Going to the modern looking fridge in the corner, I checked to see whether there was any food or drink. It was partially stocked, which meant someone frequented this wing. Something went on in the background of our house and it gave me chills just thinking about it.
Taking out a bottle of water, I returned to the corridor and tried the handle of the last door. It wiggled, just slightly, but stayed shut. Ah, a secret room. Of course. Why wouldn’t my father have a room that was locked by a keypad? In his little playhouse?
“And there I was, believing that you were righteous. Maybe,” I said under my breath, going back up the stairs, “I’m more naive than I thought.”
Going into the nearest bedroom, I sat on the bed. It was a four-poster with an ice blue cover and light curtains. At least it was clean.
I slumped back on the pillows and sighed. It had been an exhausting twenty-four hours and I’d barely slept. If I had to stay in the forsaken wing, I’d take advantage and rest.
My eyes fluttered closed and I quickly drifted off, turning onto my side and into a ball. I just had to forget about the shit-show of the last few days.
*
The clang of a metal door jolted me awake and I lurched to my feet, almost falling over. Good, they’d come to take me out. The light in the room was dim and I peeked out of the window, only just making out the fading sun past the grime on the glass.
“I’m coming,” I called, picking up my dropped water bottle and groggily making my way down the stairs, only to freeze when I arrived at the bottom.
“What the…?” Fly and I both exclaimed in unison.
“Your father–” he started.
“My father–” I said at the same time.
I tried to look past him as we both fell silent, but the door was already shut, hiding whoever had delivered him to the wing.