Chapter 30 Willow
WILLOW
I pace in Ransom’s room, feeling awkward and anxious. I’m not sure I would’ve wanted to be part of whatever little meeting they’re having, especially if it involved talking about killing people. My nerves feel a little too raw right now to handle much more of that.
But still, the way Malice brushed me off made irritation flare in my chest. He can be so hot and cold sometimes, and it makes it hard to get a read on him. I can’t tell if he likes me or hates me or wants to… I don’t even know what.
And that’s the problem.
I don’t know.
I feel completely out of my depth in this strange and volatile new world I’ve been thrust into, and on top of that, I feel more like a prisoner than ever with the way they just left me in this room while they went off to take care of business.
From what I gathered, Malice and Ransom went to meet Vic in his room. I could try to slip out the bedroom door and make a run for it, but just like last night, I decide it’s a bad idea.
I’m safe here, at least. And out there, there’s a guy who would probably happily torture me for the information he wants. Better to be with the devils I know, since they have a vested interest in keeping me safe and away from whoever was asking Carl questions.
But I’m still stuck.
And as long as I’m here, I’m sure I won’t be allowed to go to school.
My stomach churns even harder at the idea of falling behind, especially when I’ve just been starting to hit my stride and have had time to really study and do my best. I’ve been banking so hard on college, putting all my hope into this future I’m trying to build for myself.
As if my thoughts are being broadcast through the universe or something, my phone pings with a message, and when I look at the screen, I realize that it’s from April.
APRIL: Professor Walsh is pairing people up for another assignment, and you’re in my group again. Meeting on Thursday. Don’t be late!!!
I close my eyes with a groan and toss my phone back on the bed, not answering the message.
It’s not fair.
She gets to keep going to school, worrying about assignments and her hair and whether her outfit matches her nails, easy and free. And here I am, trapped in this dangerous web of lies and vendettas and death.
I suck in a deep breath and then let it out, wrapping my arms around my torso as I try to calm down.
“It’s okay,” I whisper to myself. “It’s going to be okay.”
Looking for a distraction, I stop pacing and glance around the room I’m in, taking it in more thoroughly than I did last night.
It’s a lot like Ransom himself, casual and comfortable.
It’s not fancy, just the bed, a dresser, the nightstand, and a desk pushed against one wall, but it feels like a place Ransom has made his own.
I know I probably shouldn’t be nosy, but I can’t help myself. These men know so much about me, and it makes me ravenous for more information about them, so I start to poke around the room a bit.
He has a large desk set against one wall, and there are diagrams of various vehicles scattered across the wooden surface.
On top is a drawing of a motorcycle, with some notes made in neat handwriting.
When I pull open the drawer of the desk, I find a few photos.
No people are in them, and they vary from a picture of a winding road to the view from off a mountain with the trees and the sky stretching almost endlessly.
I remember Ransom telling me about the rides he’s been on, and my brows knit together as I peer at them more closely.
Did he take these himself? Are these all places he’s been?
After putting the pictures back, I close the drawer. I turn, about to head for his dresser to poke around in there, when the door opens and Ransom comes back in.
I jerk in surprise, turning to him to try to cover up what I was doing.
“Did you get any useful info about the guy who’s poking around about Nikolai’s death?” I ask.
He shakes his head, a grimace twisting his lips. “We’ve got a lead, but that’s all it is right now. You’re going to have to stay here until we can take care of whoever this is for good.”
I nod, my stomach sinking. I thought I was prepared for this possibility, but it hits me hard anyway, making me feel like the floor has dropped out from beneath me.
I may not be a captive in name, but that’s essentially what I’ll be.
Stuck here, locked away, until they manage to take out their enemy.
“Hey.” Ransom’s voice is soft, and when I look at him, it’s like he can tell I’m about to have a major internal crisis. “Let’s get something to eat, okay? Want some breakfast?”
I nod, swallowing hard.
He leads me out of his room and down the hall, showing me around their place a little.
Despite my roiling emotions, I can’t help but be impressed with the way they’ve made this unconventional space work for them.
The first floor contains a living room, kitchen, and a massive garage with a smaller room attached to it.
The upper floor forms their living space, with a bedroom for each of them, stretching out along the hallway, and a bathroom between Vic’s room and Ransom’s room.
We head into the kitchen, and Ransom pokes his head into the freezer for a moment before pulling out a box of frozen waffles.
“They’re blueberry,” he offers, waggling the box enticingly
I chuckle, unable to help myself. “Sure. That sounds great.”
He pops them in the toaster and then hands me a plate, putting butter and syrup on the table as well.
Eating breakfast helps settle my nerves, so I focus on the food, resting my elbows on the table as I devour two waffles in quick succession. Ransom sits down to eat with me, but before he can finish his food, his phone rings.
He glances down at the screen, recognition flashing across his face.
“I’ve gotta take this,” he tells me, rising and heading for the door. “Help yourself to more waffles if you want.”
I do, popping two more into the toaster and waiting for them to heat up before carrying them to my plate. Footsteps ring out on the cement floor as I sit back down on one of the chairs at the table, and I glance up, expecting to see Ransom.
It’s not him, though. It’s Victor.
He pauses in the doorway, hesitating, and I almost think that if I hadn’t seen him, he might just back up silently and leave. But when our gazes meet, he strides into the kitchen, heading for the cabinet.
The way he came to my apartment and took care of me seems like a long time ago, and it’s hard to believe it was just yesterday. But then, it was also just yesterday that he killed a man in front of me like he was a trained assassin or something.
For a few minutes, neither of us speak, even though we’re clearly both aware of each other. He goes through the motions of making his coffee, carefully measuring out the grounds and leveling them off with precision, and I keep my attention on the last of my waffles.
“Did Ransom tell you you’ll be staying with us?”
His voice breaks the silence, and I look up.
“Yes,” I reply, smearing a bit of syrup around with my fork. I hesitate, then add, “Will… will I be able to keep going to school?”
“No.” He shakes his head, his expression inscrutable. “That’s too much of a risk.”
His answer doesn’t surprise me, but I still deflate a little when I hear it spoken out loud. All this time, I’ve been trying to build toward a better future, trying to make sure I wouldn’t end up stuck in the same vicious cycle as my mom, and now it feels like it’s all slipping from my grasp.
I press my lips together, trying not to let my feelings show too much, even though I feel a little like I want to cry. I don’t want Victor to see my vulnerability.
But if the look he gives me is any indication, he picks up on enough of it. I can’t quite tell what he’s thinking, and his expression hardly changes, but his blue eyes seem to soften a little as he gazes at me.
“School isn’t the only way to learn. I didn’t go to high school or college,” he tells me. “Malice and Ransom didn’t go to college either, and we’re all plenty smart.”
It’s hard to be totally reassured by that, since I don’t exactly have ambitions of opening a chop shop or becoming a hacker. But still, this is the nicest and most… human Victor has ever been around me, and the fact that he’s trying to make me feel better does help a little.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
He doesn’t respond, just sets the coffee to brewing and snaps back into business mode.
“I scrubbed the trail of security footage that leads to your apartment,” he tells me.
“In case anyone decides to check on your old boss’s whereabouts last night.
He’s not married, and he has no kids, so I’m not sure anyone will miss him.
But it’s likely that the employees of Sapphire will notice his absence and report it, so I wanted to make sure any evidence that he went to your place is gone.
I also modified some traffic cam footage so that there’s evidence of his car passing through an intersection far away from your apartment not long before he died. ”
“Wow,” I say, impressed. “That’s a lot.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I’m good at what I do.”
“That’s how you were able to put all those cameras in my apartment without me knowing,” I murmur, and it’s not really a question. More a statement of fact.
He nods. “Yes. We needed to be able to watch you.”
That’s also more a statement of fact than anything else. He’s not making any apologies for doing it, just telling me why it happened. They needed to keep an eye on me, so he found a way to make that possible.
But it makes embarrassment and anxiety burn under my skin, thinking about how long those cameras might have been there and what Vic might have seen while he was watching me through them.
I didn’t ask yesterday about whether he was watching the feed the night Malice brought me home, but now I feel like I need to know.
“Did you see… things?” I whisper.
I don’t know how to elaborate more than that, but when Victor’s eyes flash, I can tell he’s picked up on the unspoken meaning of my question.
He nods, his expression shuttered. “Yes.”
My cheeks flush. I can only imagine all the things he might have seen.
Me touching myself. Me naked as I came out of the bathroom to get dressed.
Me getting eaten out by Malice. He probably watched it all with that cool, perceptive gaze, and just thinking about it makes me want to run from the room and hide.
But at the same time, something hot curls deep in my belly.
Vic sees everything.
He notices everything.
Nothing gets past him, and knowing he watched me makes me feel…
I wrap my arms around myself, choosing not to follow the thread of that thought.
“I don’t let people see that much of me,” I say quietly. “I don’t let them see the scars.”
Victor looks at me, his eyes sweeping over my body.
It’s not the way Ransom looks at me, or even the way Malice stares at me with his intense gaze, but something more analytical and piercing.
It’s like he’s stripping away my clothing, the invisible armor I wear…
all of it. Like he’s seeing right down to the heart of me.
Then he steps closer, almost like he can’t help himself.
“I’ve seen the way you try to hide them,” he murmurs. “Your scars. You always wear long sleeves, even to bed most nights. You work so hard to keep them out of sight. But I don’t understand why.”
I make a face, wincing. “I just told you why. I don’t let people see them.”
He shakes his head. “No, that isn’t what I mean. I don’t understand why I like them. Your scars are… chaotic. Disorderly. But for some reason…”
He takes another small step closer to me, and his hand stretches out. His fingers never touch me, but they hover over the part of my right side where my scars crawl across my ribs beneath my shirt.
Even though there’s still an inch of space between us, I’m intensely aware of how near he is.
The heat from his hand soaks into my skin the same way a physical touch would.
My breath hitches, eyes flying up to Victor’s face to find him looking right back at me, more emotions than I’ve ever seen before flashing through his eyes.
Then Ransom comes walking back into the kitchen, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he strides toward us.
I jerk backward, and Victor straightens up, stepping away. My heart is pounding hard, almost as if Ransom walked in on the two of us kissing or something. But he didn’t. We weren’t even touching. It wasn’t even that intimate, it just… felt that way.
Ransom seems to notice the strange vibe that sprang up in the room in his absence, and glances between the two of us, his brows drawing downward. Then he shakes his head and speaks to Victor.
“Well, I’ve got good news.”
“Good. We could use some of that,” Victor replies, carefully not looking at me as he turns to his brother. “What is it?”
“We just got a meeting with Ethan Donovan. We can finally set up this deal with him and his crew.”