41. Rhett
Rhett
I wish I could say this is the first time I’ve awoken beaten and bloodied, strapped to a chair.
My head feels like a boulder with another hundred ramming into as I lift it.
My neck is stiff and it takes all my concentration not to black out from the pain.
My eyes flicker open, adjusting to the low, warm light.
The room is small and empty. There’s a screen opposite me and on either side of me. That’s all.
Every breath spears my insides with knives, but as I examine my hands I see someone has bandaged me. There’s a cannula in my arm and an IV drip next to me.
The door opens, and the grinding of metal against stone makes me sick. The sight of my uncle makes me lurch in my chair despite the restraints and the agony piercing through me.
“Take it easy, Everett. Don’t want to delay your recovery. You have a long road ahead.”
My anger is coursing hot through my veins, and maybe my willpower alone can break the bonds strapping my arms and legs to the seat.
But two men stand at the door, and I’m too incapacitated from my injuries to take out everyone I would need to take out in order to make it out of here.
And I have to make it out alive. For Ana.
A timid woman comes in holding a glass of water. She raises it to my lips and I have no choice but to drink it as my throat is dry as fuck.
“I’ve waited a long time for you, nephew,” Alistair says, pacing in front of me.
“I watched you all this time. I studied everything you built, and I’ll admit, I’m impressed.
You’ve genuinely caused a lot of trouble for me and cost me a fortune.
But part of me believes it was all worth it, for who you became in your vengeful search for me.
You let yourself be everything you were destined to be. ”
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I seethe at him.
It’s a promise. I made it the day Sarah died, written in as much blood as I had to spill to get here.
“I don’t think you will,” he says calmly.
When he moves from the screen and a picture floods the black, I hope to hell this is a nightmare.
That I’m still lying in the wreckage of the SUV or even fucking dead if it means she’s safe.
If it means I’m not staring at Anastasia Kinsley in the worst place I’d ever want to see her.
A room so familiar it makes the cowardly child in me shrink away.
It’s dark and tastefully old fashioned, but it’s all a guise for the wickedness that lurks in every corner of Alistair Lanshall’s office.
“Let her go,” I snarl. I’m going to kill every man in my way to her.
“I’m not holding her,” Alistair says.
I know his tells even after all this time. He’s telling the truth, and I can’t decide if that makes this so much fucking worse.
“Anastasia came to me. She took my hand. I see why you’re drawn to her. Like calls to like, and your darkness has awoken hers. Now it will be my pleasure to craft it.”
“Please,” I say—it’s all I have. A miserable, pathetic plea to spare Ana. “I’ll do whatever you want, just leave her be. She doesn’t belong in this.”
Ana wanders around his office observing the décor, until she lingers by the fire pit that blazes against her silhouette. She’s wearing all black. I’ve never seen her so passionless and dark.
“You know she does.”
“What have you told her?”
“Nothing but the truth.”
“Did you use me to get her to come?”
“No. Anastasia saw the wreckage of your car. She’s since believed you dead.
So, you see, her being here is entirely of her own volition.
She’s not restrained, not resisting. Not like you.
Perhaps watching her grow into all you could have become will make you see sense.
You could be reunited. Imagine the two of you working for me. The power we would have.”
“Never,” I snarl.
“We’ll see.”
Alistair leaves along with the woman who checked all my wounds, but I’m numb to the pain now, fixed only on Ana, wishing the screen would change.
That it’s some kind of trick. Her hand runs along the back of the tall seat I sat across from Alistair in so many times before.
In front of a raging fire pit. It haunts me to see her there now, like my past awakening, and eerie laughter rattles my mind.
Then Ana looks up, right at the camera, and I want to scream, shout as loud as I can, and by some miracle have her hear me. I need her to know I’m alive and that she doesn’t have to do this.
I can’t figure out her mind, what she’s thinking as she walks into the mouth of the viper.
Oh, little bird, what have you done?