36. Thirty-six Freya
Thirty-six: Freya
K aleb had lied to me. My father was involved in all this, and he hadn’t told me. Was it the reason he’d got so close to me? To weasel information out of me about my father? I felt sick. I wasn’t sure about the timings of everything and when certain information had been made apparent, but I knew one thing for sure. My father was a criminal, and the man I loved was adamant about putting him behind bars without my knowledge. Did he expect me never to find out? Was he planning on keeping it from me forever?
I couldn’t think. I was driving on autopilot over to Hannah’s house with a racing heart. I couldn’t stay at Kaleb’s house any longer, and I immediately muted his number so I didn’t receive any calls or texts from him. I wasn’t in the frame of mind to talk to him about all of this.
When I reached my best friend’s house, she flung the door open and engulfed me in a spine-crushing hug. I wasn’t complaining. Even without her lanky arms wrapped around me, breathing was a task, anyway. My body was rejecting the oxygen.
I told her everything, and she remained quiet as she allowed me to vent. I clutched onto the hot cup of coffee she’d made me, relishing in the way the heat stung my palms and took my focus away from the crushing sensation my heart was experiencing.
This wasn’t the life I’d envisioned for myself. I was no longer going to have a father. He was a felon, and his work buddies were hunting me for some unknown reason. They were dangerous, and that also meant that so was my dad. Had my father been involved in murdering people, too?
My head spun.
How would I ever look Kaleb in the eyes again without thinking about him helping lock my father away and getting so close to me without admitting it to me? Kissing me. Sleeping with me. What I thought was perhaps loving me. Fuck.
I fiddled with the gun he’d given me in my hands—it had become a habit to bring it everywhere.
“You’re going to be fine,” Hannah soothed me, offering me a sad smile.
I wiped at my teary eyes. My emotions were running rampant, wreaking havoc on my body and destroying me mentally and physically. It was as if I was being swallowed whole, encased in a dark blanket of heartache and agony.
What had my life turned into?
Hannah and I spent a little while talking about everything, but after an hour, we settled into a comfortable silence and focused on the TV. My throat was hoarse from speaking, and nothing else needed to be said.
My phone vibrated.
Ty: Hey Freya, the party starts at seven tonight. In advance, I’m sorry about the house. It’s kind of ridiculous, but my auntie and uncle have far too much money and like to make it known. See you and Hannah soon!
Hannah gazed at me as I read the message aloud, and she cursed under her breath.
“I have work tonight. Damn it, I forgot about Ty’s party.” She pouted.
“So had I.” I sighed, running a hand down my face. Apparently, Ty’s auntie and uncle had explicitly asked him to invite some of his friends to their dinner party to keep him occupied. I felt awful leaving him with no one to keep him company—none of his hockey buddies could attend.
“I’m sure he’ll understand if you—“
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll go. I don’t want to let Ty down. He seems excited.”
Hannah allowed me to shower and raid her closet, and I slipped into one of her old dresses, dusting my face with a tad of makeup.
The house was forty minutes away, and we spent most of the journey in tortuous silence. I wanted to open my mouth to speak, but I didn’t have control of my body. Hopelessness had taken the reins. I was going to need to plaster a phoney smile on for tonight.
“Jesus,” Hannah muttered as she slowed the car down and pulled onto a narrow cobbled path leading to a steep hill. “Ty’s uncle and auntie are rich as fuck.”
The hedges directing us down the path were freshly trimmed and blossoming, and the large manors and estates that we passed were definitely worth millions. Their exteriors were exquisitely decorated, with gargoyle figurines standing guard outside each door, the stone glistening in the setting sun.
“This is it,” I said, pointing to a set of open black iron gates. “I’m not sure Ty’s uncle and auntie will appreciate me bringing this in.” I laughed as I gestured to the gun that sat on my lap, and Hannah shook her head at me.
“You have people wanting to kill you, Freya. Sorry to be blunt, but you need it. What they don't know can't hurt them."
I nodded, hiking my long burgundy dress up and wrapping the gun's strap around my thigh, clicking it in. It felt inappropriate to bring it to a dinner party, but Hannah was right. I needed to make sure I had it handy, just in case.
A suited and grey-haired butler was waiting in the manor's foyer as I stepped in, and he nodded at me and took my coat, hanging it up with the rest of them. I tried my best not to gawk at the beautiful tiled flooring and regal ceiling, but I’d never seen a house so lavish. It oozed elegance.
I was directed into a room to the left, and I pushed open the door to reveal it to be full of guests in expensive dresses and designer shirts and slacks. There was a glossy wooden table in the room's corner—an array of canapes and alcohol placed on it.
I was out of my depth here, but I released a sigh of relief once Ty squeezed his way past a few people and bounded up to me, dressed smartly in a shirt and pants.
“You made it.”
“I did.” I smiled, the action feeling fake. I was far from happy, but Ty didn’t need to know that. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin his good mood. “Hannah had to go to work. She's annoyed she forgot."
He handed me a glass of champagne. “No problem. Thank you so much for coming. This really isn’t my scene, and I wanted to head out instead, but my uncle and auntie were adamant about meeting some of my friends.”
I smiled, sipping my drink. “No, of course. This place is amazing.”
“Making enough money to afford moving out can't come soon enough. This place is way too tacky, and most of these guests are snobs. Between you and me, I can’t name one of them I actually like.”
Ty introduced me to a few people, and although I tried my best to pay attention, I couldn’t shake Kaleb from my thoughts. The only thing I knew I could do was give myself some time to step away from the situation and register it—otherwise, I'd end up doing or saying something hurtful.
I didn’t want to associate him with my criminal father, but that was now inevitable. The idea cut me deeply, leaving me with throbbing open wounds.
“Oh, Freya,” said Ty as he nodded toward the crowd. “My uncle is over there. Is it okay if I introduce you to him so he doesn’t hound me any longer about you being my girlfriend?”
“Sure, let’s go.”
I apologised to a few people as I weaved around them, keeping my arms and legs close together so as not to scrape against anyone. The sensation of my cold gun grazing against the skin of my thigh came to my attention, and I feared it was going to fall from its strap and clatter to the ground. That wouldn’t be a good look.
“Freya, this is my uncle.” Ty gestured to the back of a lanky man, and at the sound of his nephew’s voice, he turned, causing my heart to seize up, my blood running cold as it pumped through my constricted veins.
“It’s great to meet you, Freya,” he jeered, a small smile on his face, his evil eyes sucking me in, chewing me up, and spitting me out.
My hands shook, and I released a small gasp as my glass of champagne slipped from my clammy fingertips to the tiled flooring, smashing into tiny pieces by my feet. I drew in a sharp breath, nausea wavering through me.
Standing in front of me was the man who I assumed wanted me dead.
Will Sheffield.
I inhaled deeply, my lungs collapsing and my head throbbing. I felt the colour drain from my face, leaving me snow-white.
Ty was quickly ushered away by Will to grab a dustpan and brush to clean up the shattered glass, and I stood glued to the ground in the corner of the room with Will towering over me, his usual cigarette hanging limply from his mouth.
One of his hands clutched his gun strapped to his waistband, most of the firearm concealed by his suit jacket, and he leaned a little closer to me. “You’re going to come with me, or I’m going to start shooting innocent people,” he growled, his voice hoarse and breath stinking of smoke. “If you try to run, I’ll kill you. My butlers all have weapons, and they won’t hesitate to shoot you in the head at my command.”
My body shook. My dress was wet with champagne and my perspiration as I considered my options. I needed to get out of this alive, and the idea of being shot in the head didn’t leave me with a tremendous amount of optimism.
I had my gun, and although I wasn’t the most confident when it came to actually using it, I was sure I could take a shot at Will when he wasn’t looking to keep him down long enough to run. Then, I could find a back entrance to slip out of, avoiding the butlers.
“Make your decision quickly, Freya,” warned Will, a strand of his gelled hair falling in front of his penetrative eyes. “Before my nephew comes back and I have to involve him in all this.”
I grimaced, and my lips settled into a frown before I nodded at him, glowering at his cheerful expression.
“Perfect.” Will grinned—a smile that could curdle cream. “Come with me.”