Chapter 24
Salvario
Robin approaches me. “Boss. We’re about to arrive.”
I look at him. “How much longer?”
“Half an hour, max. I’m preparing the capsule.”
I nod. He leaves.
I hold her tighter. I haven’t let her go once in the eight hours since we took off.
My throat constricts. “How will I live without you?” I press my forehead to hers.
“Boss, everything is ready.” Robin returns.
I rise with her in my arms. I carry her to the capsule and lay her down in the coffin. I’d prepared this to send a broken woman—one who would have begged me for death—back to her father. Instead, I’m sending back the woman who has captured my soul. In a coffin.
I take out the rose I plucked before leaving and place it between her hands. I kiss her. Then I step away.
I turn and walk to my private room. I don’t have the strength to watch her leave.
I slump onto the couch, pressing my palm to my head. One tear falls. Another follows. Soon, I’m left with nothing but sobs.
Elowen
I open my eyes, my heart sinks when I see the pale pink ceiling.
“Wen.” My mom’s sob comes first, then her arms around me.
“Mom,” I whisper.
She pulls back and cradles my face.
“My baby.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Don’t cry.”
Crushing guilt settles in my chest. My mother is like this, and yet I feel a bitter disappointment at being back.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
She shakes her head. “Why are you sorry? Don’t say that.”
Dad enters the room. He stops at the door when he sees me, then crosses the space in three strides and pulls me into a crushing hug.
“I’m sorry, Princess. Your father failed you.”
I pull away and shake my head.
“I’m fine, Dad. Nothing bad happened to me.”
He searches my eyes for any sign of a lie. My father is very good at reading faces. I don’t know if he can see the state of my heart through my eyes. I hope not.
“Wen.” Ma’s voice comes from the door. Behind her, Pa, Aunt, Uncle, and Avi rush into the room.
I accept everyone’s hugs. The look on each of their faces deepens my guilt. I have a family that loves me unconditionally, and still, I can’t seem to feel the pure joy of coming home to them.
They speak words meant to soothe me. If I had suffered the way they imagine, their words might have comforted me. They think I’ve been through a lot—which isn’t wrong—but what I went through isn’t what they imagine.
Everyone speaks, and I sit among them, but my mind and heart aren't here. They’re still in that ice-covered mansion. Patting Bruno’s head. Playing piano in the rose garden. Staring into gray eyes. Sleeping in his arms. Talking with him. Stealing moments from time and fate.
I’m still with the man I was never supposed to love.
“Wen.” Mom’s touch pulls me back. I feel the world around me—and my tears, which she’s brushing away.
“What did he do to you?” Dad asks, his voice strained, his face holding a strange emotion, like he’s afraid of the answer he’ll receive.
“Nothing. He made me do some maid’s work for a few days, then left me alone most of the time.”
“Then why don’t you look fine?” Leo asks.
I didn’t even notice him come in.
“I’m just overwhelmed to see you all again.” I force a smile.
“Do you know where he took you?” Uncle asks.
I shake my head.
“Tell us everything you know about that man. We need to find him, dear. We won’t let him get away with kidnapping you.” The anger in his voice is palpable.
“I don’t know anything.”
“His name?” Dad asks.
I shake my head. “Everyone calls him ‘Master.’”
“Did you find out why he took you?” Pa asks.
I look at each angry face. I can’t tell them. There’s a chance they might figure out who he is. My eyes land on Avi, and an idea sparks.
“He has this strange habit of making rich girls his maids. That’s why he took me.” I glance at Avi, signaling with my eyes for her to stay quiet.
We read about something similar in a book just days before I was taken.
But from the looks on the men’s faces, I don’t think they buy it.
After that, they stop asking questions, just keep talking about normal things to make me feel better.
Hours later, when everyone finally filters out, Avi takes me outside for a walk. I know she has questions she couldn’t ask in front of the others. I know she has questions she couldn’t ask in front of everyone.
When we reach the edge of the hill, she lowers her voice. “Why did he really kidnap you?”
I glance around to make sure no one else is listening. There’s no one.
“Uncle killed his father. Then his relatives—who were literal snakes—treated his mother horribly. She broke under their cruelty and died from complications of severe trauma. He wanted revenge on Uncle by putting you through the same hell.”
Her eyes widen. “Did he do that to you?”
I shake my head.
“Why didn’t you tell them?”
I sigh. “I don’t want them to find him.”
She studies me for a long moment.
“Don’t tell me you fell for your kidnapper.”
I let out a dry chuckle but don’t deny it. It’s true, even if it sounds insane to anyone else.
“Fucking hell. Is it Stockholm syndrome?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.” I meet her eyes. “But it doesn’t matter. The feeling isn’t mutual.”
Whatever he felt for me vanished that day. And now he sent me back, right after I almost died. There’s a faint memory of him holding me, whispering something, but it could be my imagination.
Avi hugs my shoulder. “You could break our pact. You could fall for someone else once you forget him.”
I laugh softly. That’s the best joke anyone could make right now.
“How can you even fall for that weirdo who sends you home in a coffin with a rose? What happened to your claim of falling for a man whose brain actually stays in his head?”
“Rose?” I ask.
She nods. “Mama told me there was a red rose in your hand.”
“Where is it now?” I frown.
“I don’t know.”
“Help me find it.” I turn and walk back toward the mansion. She follows.
If he sent a rose with me, it must be one of those roses that witnessed every part of my love: the night I fought not to fall, the morning I kissed him, and the long, endless night of my heartbreak.
Salvario
“He isn’t eating.” Antonio’s voice meets me the moment I step into Bruno’s room.
Antonio had to tie him up to stop him from running after me when I carried her out.
I walk to the bed where he’s lying, facing the wall. His ear twitches when I enter, but his body doesn’t move. I circle around and sit before him.
I stroke his head.
“She doesn’t belong here.”
He slowly sits up and releases a long, keening howl. Then his head sinks low. I stroke him, but he won’t lift it.
I clench my jaw, my eyes burning again. I rise and walk to the corner where his bowl sits. I carry it back to the bed.
I sit, bowl in hand. “She wouldn’t want you to stop eating.”
I know he can’t understand me. I never did stupid things like talking to a dog—until she did.
I extend the bowl toward him.
“Eat.”
He takes a little, then lies back down. I keep stroking his head.
The silence in this room echoes the laughter these walls held over the past few days. It makes it hard to breathe in this darkness—a darkness no sunlight can banish.
When she was here, there was only light. In the day. In the night. Bruno and I had become addicted to it.