Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ariana
I couldn’t sleep.
The blankets were too warm. The silence too loud. The bed too big.
I rolled onto my side, then my back, then my side again, the mattress groaning with every restless shift. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus on something other than the man downstairs. But I couldn’t.
Tonight was the first time I’d seen him since the library incident, as I’d been referring to it in my head, like it was some chapter from a gothic novel.
I knew he’d been avoiding me. I’d heard him move throughout the house when he thought I was already asleep. Quiet footsteps in the kitchen after I’d crawled into bed. The faint click of cabinet doors opening and closing. The familiar sound of ice against glass as he poured himself a drink.
This unnerving avoidance was why I decided to leave him some leftovers tonight. I didn’t know if he even liked pesto, but it wasn’t about the food. It was a peace offering.
Of course, it didn’t go as I’d planned. It never did with Henry.
Why did I care so much? Why was I so desperate to ease the tension that pulsed through the walls of the cabin?
Maybe if I knew why I was here, what he wanted, I could figure out how to move through the days without the constant needling ache of uncertainty.
Wouldn’t be so curious about who Henry Fontaine truly was.
But he was still a giant mystery I’d yet to solve. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere with him, those walls slammed down again.
Like tonight.
Maybe if he treated me like the prisoner he claimed I was, it would make things simpler. But he didn’t. Not really. He treated me like a guest. A deeply unwanted one most of the time, but a guest all the same.
Why? Why abduct me, then feed me, clothe me, take care of me? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about him did.
A scratching sound yanked me out of my thoughts. I stiffened and held my breath, my eyes darting around the room. It was probably just a tree branch scraping against a window pane.
I pulled the duvet tighter and closed my eyes, trying to quiet my mind long enough for sleep to find me.
Then I heard the sound again. Louder this time. More purposeful.
I threw the covers back and padded across the room, opening the door. The house was dark, shadows curling at the corners like ghosts. I crept down the stairs, every board groaning under my weight, and scanned the living room. The sound came again, sharper now, followed by a soft, familiar whine.
Cato .
I rushed to the front door and pulled it open.
Cato stood on the porch, his dark fur slick with freezing rain. His tail didn’t wag. His ears were pinned flat. He looked distressed.
“What are you doing out there?” I whispered. “Come inside.”
But he didn’t move.
Instead, he gave a short, urgent bark before trotting down the steps, pausing at the edge of the woods to look back.
My stomach twisted.
“Where’s Henry?” I breathed, glancing between Cato and the dark forest.
At the sound of his name, Cato barked again. Short. Clipped. Then looked toward the cloak of trees.
There was no question in my mind where Henry was.
I moved to the closet and grabbed a coat, along with a pair of too-large boots. I quickly laced them up as tight as they could go before pulling on a pair of oversized gloves and a hat that slid down to my brows. I spotted a flashlight lying half-buried on the closet floor and snatched it up.
The second I stepped onto the porch, the cold hit me like a wall.
This was the first time I’d been outside since my escape attempt.
The air smelled like pine and wet earth.
I sucked in a sharp breath as the freezing rain assaulted my face like icy needles.
It made my eyes water and my lungs burn, but it wasn’t painful.
Instead, it invigorated me.
Cato led the way, his movements fluid and confident. Mine were not. Every branch that cracked underfoot sent my heart skittering. My boots slid on patches of ice as we weaved between trees, the beam of my flashlight trembling with every step. But I still pushed forward.
We walked for what felt like forever. My thighs burned. My calves ached. My lungs heaved. I didn’t know how much farther I could go.
And then I saw Henry slumped against a tree, his head lolling slightly to one side. A deep gash split his forehead, blood streaking down his temple and drying in uneven rivulets along his cheek and neck. The snow beneath him was smeared red, the stain leading to the edge of a shallow ravine.
He must’ve fallen and somehow, God only knows how, crawled his way out. No wonder Cato came to get me. Obviously Henry couldn’t make it back to the house on his own.
Which meant he wouldn’t be able to stop me if I tried to escape.
This was it. My chance.
He was alone. Injured. Barely conscious. He couldn’t stop me. Wouldn’t even be able to stand in my way without falling over.
If I left now, I could be gone before he was well enough to come after me. No more games. No more cryptic silences. No more emotional whiplash. No more unanswered questions. Just…freedom.
I glanced in the direction I’d just come, wondering if I’d be able to find my way. I was fairly confident I could. I’d just need to follow the tracks Cato and I made in the snow.
A low growl sounded beside me and I looked down at Cato. Almost like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Planning your big escape?” Henry’s hoarse voice cut through the silence. “It’s the perfect opportunity.”
I flinched and turned toward him. His eyes were cracked open, blood crusting in the corners. He looked like hell. Nothing like the intimidating man who abducted me from my own home.
“I should leave you here,” I muttered.
“You should.” He gave a weak smile. “You’d be stupid not to. You’ll most likely never have the opportunity again.”
He was right. I should go. If I stayed to help him, I’d miss out on what could be my one chance to escape. But I couldn’t leave him here. Not like this.
He wasn’t my captor right now. He was a man bleeding in the snow, half-frozen and broken, looking more human than he’d ever let himself be around me.
Probably everyone else, too.
I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands already moving over his outstretched leg, feeling for breaks or swelling. “Can you walk?”
He hissed through his teeth when I gently squeezed around his boot. “Ankle’s fucked. Head’s worse.”
“You’re bleeding everywhere.”
“I noticed.” His hand drifted lazily toward his head, then fell to his side.
“You need a hospital.”
He laughed, and then immediately doubled over, retching into the snow.
I reached for him instinctively, steadying him with a hand between his shoulder blades. His body trembled violently beneath my touch.
“The nearest hospital is three hours away,” he gasped as he fought to catch his breath.
“Three hours?” I stared at him. “Why would anyone live this far from civilization?”
He slumped back, his eyes barely open. “That’s a question for another day, princess,” he managed to say through his chattering teeth.
“You might not have any blood left in three hours.”
“Looks like it’s your lucky day. When you leave, take the Jeep. It’s better navigating these mountain roads in this kind of weather.”
“You need stitches,” I continued, ignoring his statement. “You obviously have a concussion. You could have internal bleeding.”
“Just promise me one thing before you abandon me out here.” His eyes cracked open again, bleary and unfocused. “Take Cato with you. Look after him. He’ll look after you, too.”
I blinked, taken aback by his statement. He was injured. Cold. Disoriented. Yet, his sole concern was of his dog.
I studied him again. But unlike all the other times I was around him, I really looked at him. Blood-streaked and pale. Shivering. Eyes glazed with pain. And yet still trying to ensure someone else would be okay.
I was right. He definitely wasn’t the monster he claimed to be.
“Cato will be fine. And so will you.” My voice softened, barely audible over the wind.
As I moved closer, my hand grazed the inside of his thigh, and his breath caught.
“I sprained my ankle,” he murmured, a sly smirk tugging on his lips. “Not my dick. But if you want to keep checking to make sure?—”
“You’re definitely concussed if you’re making dick jokes.”
“I used to be great at dick jokes. A real connoisseur.”
I shouldn’t have smiled, but I couldn’t help myself. I liked him like this.
“I’m going to help you walk,” I said softly. “We’ll take it slow. Okay?”
He nodded.
“Do you need my help standing?”
“Maybe.” A hint of vulnerability washed over his expression. “Everything’s a bit blurry right now.”
“I’ll help steady you.”
I moved to his side, slinging his arm over my shoulder. I was easily a foot shorter than his imposing frame, but I didn’t let that stop me. Bracing myself, I helped him rise, inch by agonizing inch.
“Are you ready to walk a few steps?” I asked, my breath ghosting in the space between us.
“Sure.”
We took a step. Then another. Cato remained by Henry’s side every step of the way.
“If you need a break, tell me. Same if you get too lightheaded or dizzy. I don’t need you falling on top of me and injuring me , too.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you.” He tried to waggle his brows but only managed a grimace. “Me on top of you.”
He probably wouldn’t remember anything he said later. Which meant he probably wouldn’t remember anything I said, either.
“Truthfully, I prefer being the one on top.”
“Duly noted.” He flashed me a wink before he schooled his expression.
“What is it?” I asked, raking my gaze over his frame. “Do you need to stop?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me.
“Why are you helping me, Ariana?”
It was one of the few times he called me by my name. Not princess. Not Mrs. Kane. Just Ariana.
I slowly lifted my gaze and peered into his eyes. No response came, though. Because I didn’t know how to answer his question.
Instead, I tightened my hold on him and continued toward the house.
“Let’s get out of the cold.”