Chapter 6 #2
When he turns and looks back at me, a tick is pulsing in his jaw.
“His name is Sin Savano, and he’s the leader of a rival secret society, Shadow and Ash.
They’ve been coming after us for months now.
Not long ago, they slaughtered a Burning Crown member on our own front lawn, and almost killed Lucas, too. ”
Violence. Chaos. Mayhem. Yeah, all that tracks with the Burning Crown.
“Why does he know my name? I have nothing to do with the Burning Crown.”
“He must’ve dug into my past...” I can hear the hesitation in his voice. “But he’s full of shit. He can’t know anything. He’s just trying to get a rise out of me.”
Whatever this is between Sin and the Burning Crown, it’s dangerous. And I don’t want any part of it. The fact that this guy knows my name, knows I’m hiding things, hits way too close to home.
“Just let me go home, Jackson,” I plead. “I won’t say anything to anyone, I swear.”
“I wish I could trust that,” he says simply.
Frustration and anger play a game of tug-of-war in my head. All I want is to go home to my boring job and my simple, uncomplicated life. To the people who love and need me.
I lift my hands in frustration. “Then do what you normally do. Threaten me to stay quiet. Manipulate me. Pretend it’s all for my own good. Whatever. Just let me go home.”
“No.”
You know what, fuck this. I don’t need him to let me do anything. I lunge for the nightstand, snatch my phone, and bolt into the bathroom, slamming the door shut, then twisting the lock.
Oh, my God.
I can’t believe I just did that.
But I don’t have much time to consider the consequences. In literal seconds, Jackson will be ripping that door apart with his bare hands. So with a shaky breath, I unlock my phone, pull up the keypad, and type in 9-1-1 quickly.
Right on cue, Jackson’s fist slams against the door, rattling the thick wood. “Ava, open the door.” His voice is calm, but with Jackson, that’s even worse than if he were yelling. Another thunderous hammer of his fist. “Now!”
Before I can chicken out, I jab the green call button. The line rings, and rings, and rings, while Jackson pounds at the door hard enough to shake the frame.
With my heart in my throat, I fumble with the window lock, the phone pressed clumsily to my ear.
Finally, a woman’s voice filters through the receiver. “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“Hello,” I half-whisper. “My name is Ava, and I was—”
A deafening crash cuts me off as the door explodes inward, ricocheting off the bathroom wall. Jackson storms in, rage etched on his face. He tears the phone out of my hand, ends the call with one swipe, and drops it straight into the toilet.
“What the fuck?!” I yell, lunging for it, but he intercepts me and holds me back, his arm like an iron band across my chest.
“You’re lucky that call was too short to track.”
Yeah, I don’t feel lucky.
I try to twist out of his grip, but, of course, it’s useless. He’s so much stronger than I am. But I keep struggling, because giving up feels too much like surrender, and I can’t give him that.
“Fuck. You,” I scream at the top of my lungs, the words ripped from my throat with a desperation that leaves me feeling empty, hollow. I hate feeling so fucking helpless.
He eases back, and I push past him to rush to the toilet. My phone lies at the bottom of the white porcelain bowl like a stone. Fishing it out would be pointless, so I don’t even try. It’s been submerged for far too long, and all the rice in Southern California couldn’t resurrect it.
Tears sting my eyes. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”
“One day you’ll understand why this had to happen,” he says darkly, then shrugs. “Or maybe you’ll just curse me for it until the end.”
That doesn’t even make sense.
With a sigh, I try to move past him again.
He grabs my upper arm again and pulls me against his chest, holding me there.
He stares down at me with those cool green eyes, and I swear to God, my heart stops for a full second.
All the anger is momentarily gone, replaced with a raw hunger that claws at me from the inside.
God, I hate myself.
“Ava, everything that day had to happen,” he says firmly. “My stepdad was a piece of shit, and he deserved what he got.”
The senator was hardly a saint. But seeing him bleed out...that image will haunt me forever.
“Three weeks,” he says abruptly. “Give me three weeks, and if you aren’t begging me to love you by then–” He shrugs. “I’ll put a hundred thousand dollars in your account, and send you on your way…”
I snort. Beg him to love me? Not a chance in hell. And I’d tell him to shove his offer up his own ass, except…that one hundred thousand dollars could change my life, or more importantly, my family’s lives. My dad could finally retire. My sister could quit two of her three jobs…
“Two hundred thousand,” I counter. “And two weeks.”
“Done.”
Oh. He agreed so quickly. Too quickly. Now I regret not asking for more money and less time.
“But, I have a few stipulations—” he adds. “First, no matter how bad it gets, if you leave, you forfeit everything, including your freedom.”
“My freedom?” I ask, not quite understanding.
“The only chance you have of getting out of here is through the agreement. Two weeks. Try to escape, and I swear to God, Ava, I will hunt you down, drag you back to my bed, and chain you there if I have to.”
I swallow at the visual. “So you’re not actually giving me a choice. You’re giving me an ultimatum.”
“Semantics.”
Ugh, the cunty, cunt, CUNT!
“Fine,” I snap. “But I have a few stipulations of my own.”
“Shoot.”
“You owe me a phone,” I bite out.
“There’s a reason you don’t have a phone,” he says, like he’s talking to a child. “You just tried to call the police.”
I push out a harsh breath. “Fine, then I need to see my dad. Not a phone call. Not a text. I need to look him in the eye and know he’s okay. Chase, too.”
“That’s a hard no on Mr. Manbun,” he growls. “As for your dad, fine. You can see him tomorrow.”
“Why not now?” I ask. “I talk to him every day. He’ll freak out if he doesn’t hear from me.”
“Christian texted him from your phone last night. Told him you were staying with a friend for a couple of days.”
“He won’t believe you,” I tell him. “He’ll know something is wrong. I never go anywhere.”
My life is work and home. Occasionally, the grocery store. That’s it.
A smile touches his lips. “He said you deserved a break and not to worry. He’ll get what he needs from your apartment.”
My heart lurches at the blatant invasion of my privacy. “W-what else did he say?” What I really want to know is, what else did my dad reveal?
His thumb brushes my jaw, deceptively gentle. The scent of copper lingers in the air, proof of the violence that lives inside him, simmering just below the surface. And no one knows when that violence is going to erupt. I don’t even think he knows.
“He wants you to have a good time,” he says. “And lucky for you, I’m the only one who knows how to give it to you.”
I make a disapproving sound.
“You were having fun earlier,” he says with a smirk.
I twist my head and glare up at him. “You’re a monster, Jackson McKnight. You destroy everything you touch. And you may have gotten me off, but don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten how dangerous you are.”
Or, more importantly, how dangerous he is to me.