Chapter 14 Amberly
AMBERLY
I watched as Saint wrapped up the plate of food I hadn’t eaten and put it in the fridge. I was very thirsty. But for some reason, I just couldn't eat much. I mean, I knew the reason. I just didn’t want to think about the reason.
About how starvation was used as a tactic to break women in that place.
I stole glances at Saint as he cleaned dishes in the sink.
His back rippled with muscles I didn’t know existed and his long legs called to my fingertips.
I drew in a deep breath as I forced my eyes away from his body, then settled against the kitchen seat.
I gripped my coffee and drew in its scent.
It’d been years since I’d had a decent cup of it.
I closed my eyes, remembering back to the first time Dad caught me drinking coffee.
The first time Dad caught me “defiling my body” with something other than what it needed.
Which was water.
“What are you doing!?” he roared.
I flinched as I whipped my head around, watching my father storm through the coffee shop.
My mouth gaped open as his hand jutted out, ripping the plastic cup from my hands.
He tossed it into the trash before gripping my arm.
I watched my new friend’s face drop before she quickly pushed away from the table.
And as my father dragged me out of that coffee shop, I knew two things were for certain.
That girl would avoid me at school at all costs now, and I wouldn't be able to sit down for three whole days.
“Amberly?” Saint asked.
I jumped at the sound of his voice. “Sorry. Um, yes? What is it?”
I peeked over at him and saw him staring at me carefully.
“Do you want more creamer for your coffee?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, no. I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
“You’re welcome.”
I felt him staring at me and I closed my eyes.
I took another sip of my coffee, trying to push the memory of that moment away.
How I’d lost yet another friend due to my parent’s actions.
How much my ass cheeks burned after my father was done with that fucking belt.
It made me sick to think about. But it didn’t stop me from sipping my mug of coffee.
It did, however, keep me from enjoying the coffee to its fullest.
“Morning,” Sutton said.
I peeked over my shoulder and saw her drag herself over to the table.
She picked up a plate and started scooping up food, then plopped down beside me in a chair.
She gave me a lopsided, tired little smile before Saint placed a mug of coffee down in front of her.
And as I gazed up into his face, I saw him toss me a little wink.
A wink that filled my stomach with a thousand happy butterflies.
“Sleep well?” Sutton asked, yawning.
I nodded. “I did, yes. Did you?”
“Better than I have in a while. I always sleep well when I’m with Cage.”
“Cage?”
“My boyfriend,” she said, giggling.
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, I’d forgotten his name. Or, maybe you hadn’t given it to me. I can’t really remember.”
“Well, I’ll let you girls gab while I go grab a shower,” Saint said.
“Can I take one after you?” I asked softly.
“Of course, you can. I’ll make mine quick so you can grab one whenever you’re ready.”
And as he patted my shoulder, part of me wondered why he didn’t kiss the top of my head again. Like he had earlier.
“So, how did things go last night?” Sutton asked.
My eyes gravitated over toward the couch and a shiver worked its way up my spine.
“It went okay,” I said.
“Just okay?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I slept better than I have in a while. So, that’s good.”
“Are you doing okay after a nice night’s sleep?”
“I… I mean… I don’t—I don’t feel in danger. If that’s what you mean.”
“That’s good. I just meant in general. But that’s very good. You’re safe here; I hope you know that.”
I nodded slowly. “It’s becoming apparent.”
I watched as Sutton settled her hand into her lap.
She picked up her fork with delicate ease, stabbing at her food softly.
She moved with a grace and a purpose I didn’t have in my movements.
It was one of the many things my mother had always been disappointed in with me.
As much as she tried—even with debutante courses—I simply lacked the grace of a “fine woman.”
One of the many things she reminded me of as often as she could.
“You good?” Sutton asked.
Her voice ripped me from my trance.
“Yeah. Just thinking about things,” I said softly.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
My eyes found hers and I seriously considered it. Could I trust her, though? I mean, yes. She took me with her when these guys came and found her. But trusting her with something like my childhood was serious. I hated talking about it, and I knew if I started running my mouth, things would slip.
Like the mention of Mason.
Can I trust her with my son?
I couldn't tell Saint. Not yet, at least. I wasn’t sure how he’d react or whether he’d feel responsible for attempting to track him down, too.
For all I knew, Saint would toss me out on my ass and consider me a nasty target if he knew I had a son out there that needed to be tracked down.
Eventually, Vlad would find me. Of that, I was certain.
And Mason would be dangled as bait in order to get me to come back.
To which I’d bend like a tree in a windstorm if it meant my son’s safety.
“What is it, Amberly? I can see it in your face,” Sutton said.
I drew in a deep breath. “Sutton, there’s something I have to do. And I know you guys won’t understand it, but—”
“Morning.”
The grumbling voice sounded behind me and I almost leapt out of my skin.
I jumped out of the chair and whipped around, watching as images bombarded my mind.
The hotel rooms I’d been in before. The grumbling voices of the men that cast me to the floor once they were done with me.
I smelled their rancid semen underneath my nose.
I tasted my own blood as they beat me within an inch of my life before taking what they wanted.
And always with those rumbling, grumbling, tired fucking voices.
“Amberly. Let me know when you can hear me. Amberly, it’s just Cage. Let me know when you can hear me.”
Sutton’s voice slowly dawned on my ears, piercing through the images bombarding my mind.
I gazed upon the massive man, who looked at me with a quizzical stare and a disapproving downturn of his lips.
He made me nervous. They all made me nervous.
This place made me nervous, Saint made me nervous, and Sutton gripping my shoulders made me nervous.
No, I can’t say anything about Mason.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” I whispered.
“Amberly, wait. If I just introdu—”
I rushed out of the kitchen, backtracking down the hallway.
And one by one, massive men slipped out of the bedrooms. Their angry faces made me shiver as I brushed by them, my lungs unable to keep heaving mouthfuls of air.
The room spun. Tilting. Undulating around me.
I wanted to get away from these colossal men with their deep voices, their angry stares, their disheveled hair, and their large hands that could knock me to the floor in a millisecond.
“Amberly!” Sutton called out.
But her voice sounded very far away.
I barged into the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. I looked around for Saint, wanting nothing more than to cower in his arms. But he was nowhere to be found. I rushed into the bathroom, taking in the sound of dripping water. The floor was wet. The smell of soap stood stale in the air.
However, Saint wasn’t there.
“Shit,” I hissed.
I sighed as I turned around, gazing into the small bedroom. I was alone, and while that was comforting, it was also petrifying. My mind kept running away with me. Images fought against my conscious mind, threatening to blind me with terrifying truths.
Until my son’s face popped into my mind.
“I have to call Vlad,” I whispered.
My eyes fell to a cell phone on the bed and I reached for it.
I snatched it up, my hands trembling as the numbers tumbled through my mind.
Vlad made me memorize all of his phone numbers for different purposes.
One for emergencies, one for checking in, and one for speaking with my son.
The numbers rattled against the corners of my mind.
I walked over to the bedroom door, ready to lock myself in.
And when the latch flipped without even a fight, I looked back down at the cell phone.
You have to call him. He’ll kill your son if you don’t.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, debating on which number to call.
Would Vlad trace the call? Would he make me listen as he killed my son?
Would he believe me if I told him I was essentially tossed over someone’s shoulder last night?
Would he penalize me for waiting so long to contact him?
So many questions, and they all made me sicker.
My breakfast tickled the back of my throat.
I dropped the cell phone onto the ground, making a mad dash for the bathroom.
And as I hit my knees, the fear in my body projected breakfast into the toilet.
Just like the fear in my body had done to me so many other times before.