Chapter 22
LITTLE ROSE
brIAR
Now
After Remi’s asleep, I spend hours in the old dance studio around the corner from our apartment, working on the routine I have to choreograph and perform for my senior piece at the winter showcase.
The studio sits right atop Mae’s Diner, where Lily works a couple of mornings a week. Mae, Lily’s boss, owns the studio too, but it’s been closed down now for ages. Being the sweet, old woman that she is, Mae offered the space to Lily and me to practice in at no cost.
Some of the mirrors along the wall are cracked and broken, and the place is really in need of a good cleaning. Layers of dust and cobwebs coat the rafters of the old mill building, but the space is big and open and the floor is solid and that’s all that really matters.
Music plays out of my phone speaker; it’s not the sophisticated sound system the Conservatory studios offer, but it gets the job done.
After everything that’d happened, I’d tried going to bed early.
Lord knows I could use the sleep, but lying there, alone in my bed, and in the dark…
it only made my panic worse. My chest felt tight and, even lying still in my bed, my heart hammered inside like I was in the middle of a marathon.
The walls began to feel like they were closing in, and my mind started to spiral into every possible way this could all go wrong.
Dancing is the only way I know how to make it stop.
I mark through the choreography I’ve been working on for my senior piece. I really shouldn’t be dancing, and I’m not… not really anyway.
My ribs still ache and the lacerations on my back burn with every single movement I make; blood leaks out of the barely healed wounds every time I twist or stretch too far, preventing me from actually working through the routine properly, but even just being here, moving, working—it calms my brain.
As I mark the steps, I push myself further, losing myself in the music and the routine and forgetting the pain, the stress, and everything else I have weighing me down.
When I finally stop, my back is on fire, and sweat coats my body, but my mind is finally quiet.
I tug on my hoodie, welcoming the cold blast of night air against my hot face as I step out onto the sidewalk.
Wet leaves litter the streets. It must have rained while I was in the studio, the wet sheen on the pavement reflects the faint glow of the street lights overhead.
The further I walk, the heavier the night feels.
A thin mist of fog creeps along the streets, giving the broken-down old buildings a ghostly appearance, keeping most pedestrians away.
I’ve walked the short walk from the studio to our apartment late at night many times, but tonight feels different…
The air feels off.
The street looks empty but I can’t shake the overwhelming feeling that I’m being watched. I pull up my hood so that it covers my hair, keeping my head on a swivel as I quicken my pace, crossing the street for good measure, no sign of anyone else around.
But that feeling—that feeling—eyes watching me, burning into my back, it never leaves, no matter how many times I look over my shoulder, certain I’ll catch someone following me, but every time I turn around, there’s no one there.
All that work in the studio to center myself, to calm my racing heart, it’s all for nothing because it’s racing again now, my blood pressure rising, and the goosebumps along my arms are not from the cold.
My building comes into view and I’m practically running to it now. It’s so dark outside; the slum lord that runs our apartment building hasn’t replaced the doorway light in the entire three years we’ve lived here.
The lock on the front door is busted too, so I push my way through it, taking the stairs two at a time until I reach my apartment. Nervous, I fumble with my keys, too busy watching my back, and the dark end of the hallway, to get the goddamn key into the lock.
Finally, it slides in. I unlock the door and then the deadbolt, throwing myself inside like the devil himself is on my heels, quickly sliding the deadbolt back into place and the chain, too, for good measure. Standing on my toes, I peer through the peephole to check the hall one last time.
I see nothing. The hallway outside is empty, quiet at this late hour, and I chastise myself for my paranoia.
Get it together, Briar.
Safely inside my apartment, the panic I’d let take over ebbs away into exhaustion.
I know I pushed myself too far in the studio tonight, purposefully pushing myself past my limit in hopes that it would help me sleep.
Whatever sleep I got last night and this morning was plagued by nightmares, leaving me feeling more tired than if I had just stayed up.
I set my bag down by the door, leaving my keys and phone on the island. I pop my head in briefly on a sleeping Remi before crossing the hall and into my room.
The second I enter my bedroom, I sense it.
The room feels darker, smells… off.
I freeze at the sight of the open window. I know I didn’t—
Movement in the far corner sends me skittering backwards, but he’s on me in an instant. I go to scream, but a gloved hand comes up, covering my mouth while another snakes around my middle, trapping me against him.
I yelp at the sharp pain when the raw, angry cuts on my back are pressed against his front. My body jerks and trembles, and the searing pain brings tears to my eyes. I don’t even fight him, too panicked, fear seizing my senses, paralyzing me.
“Don’t scream,” a dark voice whispers in my ear. “You’ll only make a bigger mess for me to clean up.”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He’s holding me tight to his body and I can feel every hard edge of him.
Is he going to hurt me? Is he going to—
Oh god, Remi is right across the hall, and Lily is probably already asleep next door. Maybe if I scream loudly enough, and put up enough of a fight to wake her up, she can get Remi out while I distract him and—
He spins me suddenly, so now my back is to the wall, allowing him to cage me in, though he doesn’t push me against it.
The searing pain from my back subsides. His hand is still pressed to my mouth and I have to tilt my chin to see his face.
He’s wearing a mask, one that leaves only his eyes visible.
A wave of both relief and inexplicable terror spreads through me at the sight of the darkened green eyes glaring down at me.
Koen.
My eyes must go wide because he tilts his head. “You know who I am?”
I nod slowly, my body shaking.
“Then you know what I’m capable of?”
I hesitate, but nod again. Never breaking eye contact, not even to blink.
He studies me for a moment, searches my face, considering something.
“I’m going to let you go. You’re not going to scream when I do,” he tells me.
I just stare wide-eyed at him.
Shadowed eyes narrow on me. “Nod, so I know you understand.”
I hesitate again, searching those familiar dark eyes for any insight into his intentions.
I find nothing but cold, steady intensity.
His grip tightens on my mouth when I don’t respond, his voice is darker now and he speaks slowly, enunciating every syllable, “I need you to promise me, you’re not going to scream. Can you do that?”
Decision made, I dip my chin again with the lie. I make no promises and reserve the right still to scream, dependent on whatever the fuck happens next. But he doesn’t need to know that.
True to his word, he releases my mouth and I don’t scream… yet.
“Good.” He nods appraisingly at me and I fight the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.
His fingers curl under the mask at his neck, pulling it off to reveal a face I feel like I know all too well, yet not at all.
He clenches his jaw, sharp enough to cut glass, while stalking like a predator would through my room.
Six feet of coiled muscle moving with surprising grace within the tight space to close my door.
I suppress the overwhelming urge to scream at the sound of the lock clicking into place.
He holds me trapped in his piercing gaze as he crosses the room to also shut the window.
The one leading out onto the fire escape.
Shit.
Closing my door and window seems to take all the oxygen out of the room. The tiny space feels ten times smaller with the mass of him in it.
I move back as far as I can without pressing my back against the wall, eyes darting around as I work to formulate a plan.
My bedside table holds the gun I’d gotten years ago for protection. Unfortunately for me, Koen stands directly between me and that table.
I watch him track my gaze to that very table, assessing it.
Double shit.
I tear my gaze away, taking the opportunity with his eyes off of me to bolt for the hall door. It’s only locked from the inside.
Koen catches me easily, swinging me around until he has me pinned back up against the wall. A whimper escapes me as a wave of pain rushes through me, and I watch his eyes darken.
He spins me again, and I feel his hands, rough against my skin, sliding up the hem of my shirt. I squeal and try to squirm away, but his hand finds my mouth again, suppressing any sound and holding me still.
“You’re bleeding.”
I rip his hand off my mouth, wanting to get as far away from him as I can. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You didn’t even clean it.”
“I cleaned it.”
“Not well.”
“Here—” He goes to pull my shirt up a little higher and I flinch away violently.
“Don’t touch me!” I spin, backing as far away from him as the wall allows.
Koen stays where he is, holding up his hands in surrender, even backing off a step, studying me—seeing my panic, my fear… seeing too much.
I fold my arms across my chest, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“What do you want?” I snap, my words come out stronger than I feel. “What are you doing here, Koen?”
His jaw tightens at the sound of his name on my lips.
“What do you want?” I ask again when he doesn’t answer. Hating how hoarse and small my voice sounds.
God, Remi really is the spitting image of her father, I notice, getting my first good look at him after all these years.
He takes another step closer, stopping when he spies me edging away.
“It’s nice to see you again, Rose.”
I don’t say anything, a little shocked he remembers me—or well, the fake name I gave him that one night, almost five years ago. But if he’s standing here, in my bedroom, he very well knows that Rose isn’t my name at all.
He moves again, shifting his attention to my bureau, pretending to study the knickknacks I have there.
I’m instantly grateful there are no pictures of Remi in here.
But, she’s right across the hall. No less than ten feet away.
What if he sees her? Then he’ll know. The thousands of scenarios I’ve played out over the years flood my mind, and my heart races, but I shake them away. I need him out. I need him out now.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I shoot back at him, my voice gaining strength.
He notices, lifting his dark gaze to meet mine while holding my music box in his hand. His eyes drop back to the tiny dancer in his palm as though he has all the time in the world. He sighs, before placing it back down onto my dresser and turning to look at me.
“I’m here, because you little Rose.” He looks at me, the streetlight pouring in from outside highlighting the cold glint in his eye. I take a step back. “You saw something you shouldn’t have the other night.”
The blood in my veins chills as I process his words. Aidan. He’s talking about Aidan. I force away the horrific memory of him bashing in Lorenzo’s skull.
“And I can’t have you go running your mouth now, can I?”
Fuck.
I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin to glare at him, my fists tightening at my sides. If he’s here to kill me, I’m going to make it really fucking difficult for the asshole.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I hedge, refusing to shrink under his narrowed stare. “I didn’t see anything.”
He looks away, and suddenly, I can breathe again with the weight of his gaze off of me.
“You didn’t call the cops.”
It’s not a question but I answer it anyway. “No.”
“Why not?”
I let out a dark laugh. “Because I like breathing.”
A beat of silence and then, “You should leave town.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s not a suggestion.” He takes a step forward and I steel my spine.
“I’m fine right here.”
Koen’s jaw tightens, the green of his eyes holding a warning. “The people who targeted you—”
“You killed them.”
“I killed lackeys. This—” His jaw clenches. “What you’ve gotten yourself swept up in, it goes so much deeper than you know.”
Oh, I know. Trust me. I know exactly what kind of shit I’m in.
“I’ll take my chances.”
He scoffs, taking yet another step and closing the gap between us, forcing me to tilt my chin so as to not break our shared gaze.
“What you saw the other night—”
“I didn’t see anything,” I say again, keeping my voice firm and even despite how my body shakes with fear.
He stares down at me for a long time, studying my face, my eyes…
“I might have saved you…”
Saved me?
“But let me be clear: I have no problem silencing you.” His eyes flash, his threat clear.
“Understood,” I breathe out.
We stare at each other for a long moment, both refusing to look away or even blink.
“How did you find me?” I finally gain the courage to ask.
He smiles, sending a shiver down my spine, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out my ID, holding it up before handing it to me. I take it with shaky fingers, staring at it, barely registering how he backs away, deeper into the room’s shadows.
“Watch your back, Briar Rose,” he says, before disappearing entirely through my window, pulling it shut again behind him.