Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
brIANNA
“ E arth to Brianna…” My friend, Ellie, waves her hand in front of my face. “The professor dismissed us five minutes ago.”
I blink at her for a moment, focusing in on her intensely sapphire eyes, the present snapping in around me harshly.
“Where’s your mind today?” she asks.
I shrug and start packing away my pen and blank notebook into my messenger bag. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Hoping she doesn’t ask me to elaborate, I sling my bag over my shoulder and head toward the parking lot where my chauffeur should be waiting.
He’s always waiting, no matter how many times I’ve told my father I can drive myself. Just one more bar on my prison.
“Good thing you have a light schedule today.” She smiles at me knowingly. “Too bad you can’t just hang out on campus. We could go get lattes, study in the quad and watch the Rho Omega Phi throwing their football around. Shirtless.” She waggles her eyebrows at me like that’s supposed to be some big draw to pretending to study in the quad.
I like Ellie. I really do. But I don’t know how much I can open up to her, I don’t know how much I can tell her. Not when there’s not exactly neon signs indicating who’s on my father’s payroll.
She hardly holds up to the image most of my jailors have, with her shaggy blonde pixie cut, bold dark eye makeup framing those too-blue eyes, and a mix of punk clothing and dresses that seem like something a princess in a fairy tale would wear, almost always paired with a chunky platform shoe.
I don’t think he’d hire someone like her, but he’s tricked me before.
I’ve lived my life in an ivory tower, imprisoned within the walls while my father controls every aspect of my life. It’s difficult to explain to someone, especially without sounding like I’m asking for a pity party for the princess who has almost everything…except freedom. I know that I have privileges, but only when my father sees fit. Only when he’s not trying to make my life a living hell. It’s like he’s punishing me, because he can’t punish the wife and mother who shamed him by leaving.
“I study better at home.” I smile, hoping it sounds sincere, and not like a brush off.
“You have got to get your dad to loosen the reins a little. You’re twenty-one. Not a toddler. You should be able to live a little, you know? What’s he going to do when you graduate?”
“Probably set me up with a job in one of his friends’ companies, where he can still keep an eye on me until I find a nice Jamitari boy to marry me and hopefully give me healthy sons.” I laugh, hoping she takes it as a joke, even though it’s my reality and my destiny, no matter how much I fight it.
“Fuck that. Let’s make a pact. After graduation, we’re going to find a bus, a train, anything we can, to get us out of here, and we’re going to see the world.” She grins, giving me a playful nudge with her elbow. “Life’s way too short to just go from one guy’s controlling grip to another’s.”
My mind flits to Declan, like it has all morning, and for half a second, I think I wouldn’t mind being in his grip. Or in his arms.
But that’s insane. Hell, I can hardly even tell what he looks like, with his dirty, stringy long hair, scruffy beard, and more muck caked on his skin than I really want to think about. Especially when at least some of it, I’m pretty sure, is dried blood.
The gashes, wounds, and bruises all over his exposed skin that I could make out beneath the muck make me sick all over again.
Instead, I focus on the way his deep, dark voice seemed to caress my skin. The way his dark eyes seemed to be soaking me in like I was a dream or a mirage. The way my body reacted to a complete stranger who was in desperate need of a hospital, a shower, and probably a few decent meals, but still he made my skin tingle, and my body awaken like it’s been waiting for him.
“You’ve got that far off, wistful look again. Who’s got your panties all in a twist?”
“No one.” I give her a look, hoping that the driver leaning against my armored black sedan isn’t close enough to hear. “A trip sounds amazing, but I don’t know how I’d manage it. Papa doesn’t let me get further than the gates of the embassy compound without at least three people watching my every move.” I sigh while I pick at the hem of my shirt trying to not feel so defeated. “Let’s plan a study night soon though. You can come over, I’ll cook you a traditional meal, and when I either fuck it up or you hate it, we can order in pizza.”
“Or you could come to my apartment. Stay the night. Be a real girl for a change, not just Daddy’s little angelic robot.” She winks at me as we get close to the car. “I’ll text you. I want details on whatever’s got you distracted today.”
“Distracted?” The driver’s stern voice makes me cringe. “Your father won’t like that at all.”
I roll my eyes knowing no matter what I tell him, he’ll tell my father anyway. “It’s nothing. I didn’t sleep well.” It’s the lie I’m sticking with. Simple, not too many details, and easy to remember. Not to mention, not anything anyone could actually fact-check. “Besides, it was a review day, getting ready for midterms. I’ve been studying classic English literature since I was a child, and if I can’t pass a test on Shakespeare by this point, I doubt one more review class would suddenly make the information sink in.”
I have no idea if that’s what the class was about at all, but at least it’s the right subject matter, and it’s a class I really can pass in my sleep.
Thankfully, he doesn’t push any harder. I know he’s watching and logging everything I do and say anyway. He opens the car door and takes my messenger bag from me as I slide into the back seat.
I don’t miss the not-so-subtle click of the door lock before my driver walks around the car to get behind the wheel. The privacy screen is up, and I never know if it’s for my benefit, or for his.
Either way, I’m not about to strike up a conversation. I have more important things on my mind.
What would my father think if he knew I had broken a rule? It’s an unspoken rule, but I’ve found throughout the years those are the most dangerous to break. How fast could he have the staff pack my bags and throw me on his private jet to live with my grandmother until he can trap me into a marriage of convenience for him that I’ll never be able to escape from?
Under her thumb, back in Jamitari, books would be a luxury, let alone any chance of a life or a hobby that doesn’t include traditional needlework or the art of looking submissive.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I focus instead on the items I want to take Declan.
I doubt I’ll be able to leave much there, if anything at all, but surely he doesn’t like spending all his time in filth. I doubt he gets anything good in his one daily meal either. I could bring him something more. Maybe brush out his hair. Some antiseptic to make sure his wounds don’t get infected.
I wish I could let Ellie into my life more, tell her what’s really going on. I don’t want her to get sucked into my personal hell. It’s too dangerous for her. I don’t know what would happen to her if my father decided she was a risk or something.
Besides just being a great friend, she always has the latest tech, and I could actually learn something more about these shifters without the prying eyes of all the parental control and spyware that’s undoubtedly in every piece of technology my father buys me.
It would also just be nice to be able to tell someone about Declan and the others. To let someone else in on what’s really going on in my life. To not feel so isolated.
I stifle a sigh, because I doubt the privacy screen actually has any sort of soundproofing, and I start to plot through things again. I shouldn’t just take things to Declan. Even though I haven’t met the other two, the bear and the wolf, I could still give them something to help their time too.
Hopefully there will be cookies in the kitchen. Everyone likes cookies, right?
Before I know it, we’re pulling through the gates to the embassy compound, and I stare up at the ominous building as we circle around it toward the house in the back of the grounds. Somewhere in that building, my father sits behind some imposing desk, helping to spread the vitriol and hate against shifters, fae, witches…anything supernatural at all.
Just because they’re not like we are, does that really make them a threat? As if humans aren’t dangerous too? Does that really mean they deserve to be caged like animals?
The car rolls to a stop, and I wait until the driver comes around to let me out. The child proof locks are always in place to make sure I can’t open the door from the inside.
“Your bag, miss.” He hands it to me like it’s offensive, and I suppose it could be, if I bought into the idea that wealth meant only using high end, designer things.
“Thank you. I’ll see you again tomorrow morning.” Part of me wants to test the boundaries, to throw in some insane adventure, just to see how he’d react, but it would just get back to my father, and then the bars would just tighten around me even more.
Instead, I head up to my room to change out of the designer clothing my father had laid out for me by some poor maid, and into a form-fitting tank top and a pair of leggings. They’re still ungodly expensive, but at least they’re comfortable.
Now, to gather up a few things to sneak down to the basement.
Thankfully, the house staff is supposed to keep to their own wing unless they are working on their duties. Duties which should’ve all been completed two hours ago if they don’t want to face my father’s wrath. No one should bother me as I fill a tote bag with some things I hope won’t be missed, and won’t be looked at as stupid by the shifters.
By Declan especially.
The door to the basement is off the kitchen, so as soon as I put about half a dozen fresh cookies into a baggie, I make a beeline for the door.
Every step towards the basement rachets up another wave of nerves, afraid that if I get caught, there’s no good excuse, and somehow it’ll end up hurting Declan and the others.
I get through the first door with my father’s code, and I’m so much more confident I can get through the second one without anyone knowing I’m down here, that I practically run down the stairs, while trying to practice some caution.
I take a deep breath.
Here we go.
If there are guards, I’m fucked.
I pull the door open as slowly as I can, listening for anyone who might be moving around. Listening for any reason to sprint back up the stairs, and hope Declan will still want to see me tonight.
Silence.
It’s now or never.
The basement looks a lot different in the day. The windows are oddly impossible to see in from the outside. Trust me, I’ve looked. But somehow light gets through the slits of glass from high above. I realize just how much squalor these shifters are forced to live in. Scratches cover the floor, the walls, anywhere a man of Declan’s size could reach if he were being dragged through here. There’s no effort to maintain the cleanliness or order that we keep upstairs, and I doubt any of the staff is allowed down here.
A faint scent of something coppery hangs in the stale air, even over the smell of the three large men who don’t get to shower down here. It’s not until I see the dark brown stain outside one of the doors beyond Declan’s that I realize it’s blood.
These men aren’t just living in a dungeon. They are suffering everything I’m sure would be entirely against every peace treaty and accord designed to stop cruel and unusual torture.
My cookies, wet wipes, and hairbrush seem childish and stupid in comparison to how they’re actually suffering down here.
With a deep breath, I step through the door.