Chapter 18 - Nikki
Nikki stared at the floor, her hands trembling, tears beginning to sting her eyes. She sucked in a breath, willing herself to move. Her legs refused to cooperate. Her throat felt raw, and all she wanted to do was scream. But no sounds seemed to come.
She kept running back through the conversation, guilt needling her, poking at her.
She probably shouldn’t have said some of the things that spilled out of her mouth.
At the moment, though, it was hard to care.
Still, Jasper’s expression, equal parts furious and hurt, kept swimming in front of her eyes, and that guilt continued sinking further into her.
It took her a while to come out of that dark place.
When she finally realized she could move again, she walked over to the couch and sat down, replaying the scene over in her head, trying to make sense of it all.
That anger still colored everything, and she wasn’t entirely sure it would ever go away.
She had finally started to trust him. She had finally started seeing him in a different light.
She’d even begun to see herself growing comfortable in a life with Jasper, once everything blew over.
But those images had flown out the window.
Now, she felt hollow, stuck. It didn’t matter what happened next; she wasn’t getting a say in it.
Collapsing on the couch, she stared up at the ceiling. She gritted her teeth, trying to steady her breath while her fingers curled tight into fists. She kept replaying the fight in her mind, feeling guilt, frustration, and hurt.
She hadn’t meant what she’d said—not all of it, at least. She was still furious that he hadn’t bothered to tell her anything.
But she didn’t think he was as bad as Lucas or his father.
But she had been so angry, and all she’d wanted was to say something that would hit home, that would pierce through that stubborn wall Jasper insisted on building.
Groaning, she let out a low, deep breath. She was tired. Tired of all of it. She was tired of Lucas, of Jasper, of constantly having to look over her shoulder, of having to have someone near her at all times. She was tired of feeling controlled. She just wanted to be able to live a normal life.
Have I ever had a normal life, though? she mused.
All her life, she’d never really had agency.
The handful of months she’d had it had been yanked away by Jasper and Lucas.
She’d thought that maybe she had been recovering some of it, that she and Jasper would come to some understanding after Lucas was dealt with.
Now, however, she was starting to doubt that it would ever be an option.
Even if he didn’t mean to control her, Jasper would insist on keeping her safe.
As she lay there, she came to a conclusion: she was done. She wasn’t going to stay here any longer. For the first time, she was going to take a modicum of control back and make a decision. She was going to leave.
Still trying to keep herself under control, she moved up the stairs and into her room.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dresser.
Her hands trembled a little, and she fantasized about running away.
What would that look like? Where would she go?
She could go anywhere. Out of the country, to a new pack.
Her mind wandered down this path as she opened the bedroom door and walked to the closet. She considered the suitcase on the top shelf, the one she had used to carry her belongings here in the first place. She pulled it down and carried it over to the bed.
Opening it, she stared into its empty cavity.
She imagined it filled with clothes again.
She imagined carrying it out of the house, hurrying to leave before Jasper got back.
She imagined texting Amber, asking to borrow her car.
She pictured herself driving away, getting as far away as possible before Jasper realized something was wrong.
She could be free. No Lucas, no guard escorting her wherever she went, no feeling stuck, no feeling like she had lost all agency and all privacy.
And no Jasper, a voice said.
Her eyes began to sting. She sucked in a breath, fingers brushing beneath each eye, feeling the dampness. She glared down at the traces of tears on her fingers, as if offended they were there at all. Why should she be crying? She was furious. She wanted to leave. She had nothing to be upset about.
She thought back to that first night, the night she had nearly been taken by Lucas, the night she and Jasper had first spoken.
He had made her favorite tea without her saying anything, as if he’d known.
He had taken her to her favorite restaurant.
He seemed to know all her favorite things without her saying anything.
He had been paying attention to her long before he had ever spoken to her.
He had been following her, keeping a close eye on her from a distance.
At first, she called it stalking, and on one level, it still frustrated her that he’d never told her.
But he hadn’t used the knowledge he’d gained for anything other than to make her happy, to know what she would need.
And if it was as simple as stalking, he wouldn’t have been paying enough attention to know those tiny things about her.
He wouldn’t have bothered to use what he had learned to make her feel better.
He would have been using it for other, darker reasons.
Despite the fight and her still-simmering anger, it sent something warm through her, dimming the anger.
He did it because he was controlling, she told herself, except it came out hollow.
Something told her it wasn’t because of that.
Jasper might be going about it the wrong way, but he genuinely cared about her well-being.
He genuinely wanted her to be safe and happy.
He had gone to good lengths to make up for what he had done, even if he had fucked up later.
She didn’t like the idea of Jasper following her, but now that the initial jolt had subsided, she had calmed down some. He wasn’t out of hot water just yet. It would take a long time for her to forgive him, but—
Time? What time? You’re leaving.
The words slammed into her, startling her, sending an unpleasant pang shooting through her.
And with a new jolt, she realized something else: she wanted to stay.
It didn’t make any sense. She wanted to live her own life. She wanted to be able to make decisions for herself, to make the choices that other people had made for her all her life. She didn’t want someone like Jasper deciding the rest of her life.
But she did want Jasper.
Despite everything, she didn’t want to leave him.
It’s just some weird form of Stockholm Syndrome, that angry voice in her head hissed, as if it was still clinging on to those lingering remnants of rage. It wanted her to still be furious with him. Deep down, though, she knew it was lying, grasping at straws.
The truth was, she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to leave Jasper. He might have made mistakes, and they would have to have a long conversation about boundaries, but she wanted him to be in her life.
Why? It didn’t make any sense. He had taken all agency from her. He had wanted to dictate her life.
He was trying to protect you, a voice said.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She should want to storm off—she knew that. Staying couldn’t be a good idea. Except something kept calling to her, telling her she needed to stay.
That realization that she wanted to stay, that she planned to do so, sent a soothing ripple through her, almost like a balm. She took a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair, wiping away the wetness beneath her eyes.
Something sounded downstairs, a door opening.
Jasper must have come back. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the conversation.
She needed to apologize for her part in the fight.
As furious as she had been, she knew Jasper wasn’t nearly as terrible as Sier had been, or Jasper’s father.
She wanted to say sorry for that. She wondered if he would apologize for his part.
Bracing herself, she pushed herself off the bed and began walking out of the room, leaving the suitcase open on the bed.
She realized something was wrong halfway down the stairs. Voices sounded downstairs. One of them was familiar, but it wasn’t Jasper’s.
“Search the house,” someone grunted.
Nikki’s heart clenched, the breath whooshing out of her chest. Intruders, she realized with a jolt that shook her to her core.
Burglary? In this area? Who would be stupid enough to break into the second-in-command’s house? And why hadn’t the alarm sounded? Had they cut the power to it? They must have.
She needed to call someone. Where was her phone? It was down on the couch, where she had tossed it when she heard Jasper come home. Should she run for the front door, then? Would that work?
She realized what was happening too late. Just as she was about to retreat back up the stairs and lock the door behind her, one of the burglars walked past the landing, and her heart stopped.
Vincent stood at the foot of the stairs.
Her heart leaped into her throat, her lips parting, dread thundering in her heart. She could barely breathe. All of a sudden, she was back in those woods, back trapped, with Vincent dragging her over the ridge. Freezing, she suddenly felt like a child, helpless once again.
Instead of freezing like she wanted to, she disappeared before he could see her, pressing against the wall and creeping back into her room. She closed the door as quietly as possible.
“She’s not here,” a voice she didn’t recognize said after she had disappeared into her bedroom once again.
“Try upstairs,” Vincent said.
The floorboards creaked, each one sounding like a gunshot in the silence. Her stomach twisted into a knot, and she could barely breathe. Her hands were trembling, her throat going raw.