Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
RYE
“You’re late.”
It hasn't been that long since I've seen her, but hearing her voice in HD stirs my insides.
“You’re a piece of work.” The smirk tugging at my lips fades, my grip still clinging to the wheel of this rental van. She climbs into the passenger seat, the scent of her making my racing heartbeat faster.
It wasn’t easy getting here. It wasn’t easy climbing into this car. It wasn’t easy driving the hour with increasingly shitty thoughts of what could happen to her in my head.
A fake ID hangs from the rearview mirror, my ticket in. Staring into the reflection, Krystal still stands at the edge of the loading dock. “The hell is she doing?”
“Krystal!” Hannah calls, her head poking out the passenger window. Her hair’s a wispy mess, the back of her white tank brown with dirt. Seeing her like this doesn't help the horror stories swirling in my mind. “Come on!”
“Why is she stalling?" My grip tightens on the wheel, the ridges pushing against my bones. "It was hard getting in here, and we don't have much time until the guards notice this isn’t a real delivery.”
“Krystal!” Hannah calls again before she turns to me. I keep my gaze ahead, but I notice the narrowing of those sugary eyes in my peripheral vision. “Is that why you’re late? Or were you too busy deciding whether you wanted to help me?”
That was half of it. “You’re welcome.” Turning to her, she still looks like the fallen angel she is. One that would drag me to hell. “Are you okay?”
“You care now?” she sasses. Her eyes search my face, the van getting warmer as the air around us fills with her scent. Sweet. Alluring. Calming? So why won’t my heart chill the hell out?
Headlights shine ahead, coming around the corner.
I press on the horn as Hannah whips her head out the window again. “Krystal!” Hannah slams her hand against the door. “Come. On!”
It takes another second before Krystal notices the headlights and finally moves. Two black SUVs turn the corner as Krystal slides into the back of the van. The minute she does, my foot slams on the gas as she closes the door.
Hannah lets out a squeal as I peel away. The two SUVS close in as I step on the gas. It’s a tight fit between them, but it’s our only way out. The side of the van scratches against one of the SUVs when I drive in the middle, but we make it through.
Looking back, it's clear it'll take them a second to turn around before my eyes land on something else in the mirror. Someone stands at the docks, their eyes on this van.
“Is that Eden?” Hannah asks.
“The hell is Eden?” I ask in return.
“Fuck,” Krystal mutters. Then her head appears between Hannah and mine. “We have to go back.”
“That's stupid,” I say, the car speeding up as I drive down the long path to the gates. They’re no longer open, so I press harder on the gas, speeding up enough to get through.
“We left her!” Krystal exclaims, but I don’t care who her is.
I have what I came for. They’re safe. She’s safe.
Smash!
The car breaks through the gate, Hannah letting out another squeal when it does. Then we’re back on that dark road, leafless trees lining the path as the gothic building disappears behind us.
Krystal pounds on the back of my seat like a five-year-old. “Rye, we can’t leave her!”
“I was late, and she still missed the meeting time,” I remind her. “We cut it close.” Her eyes meet mine in the rearview. A scowl.
“She’ll be okay.” Hannah turns to her. “She’ll be happy we got out.”
“She won’t be.” Krystal sinks into her seat, my foot still heavy on the gas. “You know that.”
“Why?” I ask. “Where the fuck did our mother send you this time?” The websites and pamphlets were confusing when I read them. Order. Loyalty. Sacrifice. It’s their motto. It looks like a well-run place, more grandiose than SBU, but the girls make it sound like a dungeon.
“Does mother dearest know you came for us?” Krystal asks.
I nod. “She knows.”
“What did you have to do?”
“Give up everything.”
Don’t lose this, too.
“What does that even mean?” Hannah leans forward, glancing between us. "What did you do?”
Glancing at Hannah, there’s concern on her face, her forehead wrinkling.
“I blackmailed her,” I confess.
"The email?" Hannah asks.
"There’s enough shit in there to hold the entire Hill hostage.”
“Oh, you’re fucked,” Krystal laughs. Not a humorous one. A pitiful one. “Let me guess. She wants you out now, too?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you leave?” Krystal asks.
“You can’t.” The panic in Hannah’s voice makes my head turn to her. Those eyes, they look—
Hoooonk!
“Shit,” I mutter, swerving out of the way of a truck.
When I glance back at Hannah, she stares at me with that look on her face, my grip tightening on the wheel. I weighed my options. I weighed my outcome. So why is that look making me question my decision?
“Thought you’d want me out of the way.” Glancing between her and the road, our eyes meet for a second before she turns away.
“Not after you saved her,” Krystal snorts.
“I’m not a hero.”
And that brings Hannah’s eyes back to me, only for a second, like she’s trying to figure something out. She turns away again, and the rest of the ride is silent all the way back to The Hill.
It leaves us all in our own little worlds. It leaves me with no distraction. Even turning on the radio doesn’t help. The urge to make her pay for my decisions rises to the surface, and if Krystal wasn’t here, I’d pull over and take out whatever I’m feeling right inside her.
There’s no turning back now.
I spent my entire life making sure no one had power over me. Not my mother. Definitely not my father. I gave it all away for her.
Krystal falls asleep in the back, but even then, we don't dare speak. It's not until we turn off the highway and drive through that brick arch that the silence breaks.
“I should go home,” Hannah says.
My foot slams on the brakes as we get to a red light.
“No.” I turn to her. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I need to check on my mother.”
Fuck her mom. That woman will get both of them killed.
The light changes, but I don’t move.
Hannah turns to me, a blur in her eye.
“Please," she says.
My grip finally softens on the wheel, but staring at her eyes still fucks me up. The adrenaline from saving them isn't there anymore. Neither is the rush from escaping the guards. So… what the fuck is this?
“Ryung?” My sister’s tired voice comes from the backseat, my eyes still locked on Hannah.
“It’s late,” I say. “Why bother?”
Hannah’s hand comes to my cheek, the heat of a million suns coming with it. “Please,” she repeats.
“Uh, guys?” Krystal calls again as another car honks.
“Fine. We’ll go.” I step on the gas, passing the line into Paradise Hill. “But I’m coming with you.”
She doesn’t protest as I head into The Hill, turning towards Paradise Row. She’s still quieter than usual when we pull up to her cobblestoned driveway, her eyes on the castle she calls home.
My hand moves to her leg, and she jumps. “You don’t have to go in, Hannah.”
The clouds close in on us, blocking the moon like a warning. Nothing good happens beyond those doors.
“I do.” She doesn’t move my hand. She doesn’t make a snippy remark. She just nods, like she’s convincing herself.
My hand grips her thigh as she stares at me with that look again. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Following Hannah to her door feels surreal. Like we’ve finished some fucked up date and I’m taking her home. What role do I play here? I’m not her boyfriend. Hell, we’re not even friends.
Hannah stops when we get to her door.
Then she reaches for my hand.
Her small hand fits into mine like the perfect hockey glove, my body temperature rising. The feeling I had before comes rolling back like a wave in a hurricane. That swirl in my gut. That nausea. It was there at the parties she attended. It was there on campus. It was there in my room.
I give her one last chance to back away, her palm sweaty in mine. “You sure about this?” But she’s already turning the handle.
Hannah
“Miss Hannah.” As usual, Carrie spots me the minute I enter our foyer. She’s wearing a denim jacket with her apron off, telling me she’s finished for the night. “You’re home. It’s late.”
Her eyes move around my frame, and it’s only then that I realize I haven’t changed.
I look at Rye, who hasn’t said anything about my appearance all night. Sure, I tried to doll myself up beforehand, but navigating that weird tunnel didn't help. He looks back at me, that intense stare sharpening. It’s not repulsion. It’s not hate. It’s… something else.
“Are they awake?” I ask Carrie, so very aware of my hand in Rye’s.
It's hard to believe that weeks ago we were at each other’s throats because right now, he’s giving me the confidence I need.
“Your father just returned from Cairo,” Carrie says.
A hammer lands on my heart, my last night here flickering in my head. That poker in my father's leg. The scowl on his face. The hatred in his eyes.
“And my mother?”
Carrie looks at me with the same look she always does. Concern. Worry. But when her eyes move to Rye standing next to me, that expression softens. “She’s in the solarium.”
When I move my dirty sneakers towards it, she stops me, a hand on my shoulder. “Your father is on a phone call in his office.”
Taking a second, I remind myself and Carrie, “I’m not here for him.”
Moving to the solarium, Rye squeezes my hand, calming the frantic beat of my heart. It's crazy how safe I feel with him by my side. His tall shadow hovers over mine as we move down the corridor.
When we pass the office, my grip on Rye's hand tightens as my father’s eyes lock with mine. Phone to his ear, he looks like he’s pounded back a few hard drinks. Glossy eyes. His hair shiny but no longer slicked back. His tie hangs loose off his neck, the vein in it getting bigger by the second.
But I'm not here for him.