CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
His eyes narrowed then. In hurt or in anger, I couldn’t tell. When he spoke, his voice was cold. “Yes, Maila. You shouldn’t have to ask me that.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
But suddenly all the adrenaline, all the rage that had been building earlier, the desire to make sense of all of this…it all melted away. I felt an exhaustion the likes of which I have never felt before, even the day that I lost Irene and my father.
There was nothing for me. There was no one for me. I couldn’t trust Cato. I couldn’t trust Zander. Most painfully of all, I couldn’t trust Kieran.
I was completely, utterly defeated.
Kieran’s eyes widened in alarm. His gaze trailed downward, and I realized tears were dripping down my cheeks. I didn’t try to stop them. Didn’t care to stop them.
“Maila.” His voice cracked on my name. “I need you to trust me. They’re trying to turn you against me, but I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me.”
He had to be joking. Wasn’t this about as big a reason not to trust someone as you could have?
My hands were still tightly bound, as were his, but he reached for them. The Enforcer yanked him back into his chair again.
A different hand rested on my shoulder, and a voice sounded from behind me.
“I think you’ve done enough damage here,” Zander said. He was speaking in that commanding tone again, the one that left no room for questions. “Stop trying to justify what you’ve done and just let it be. Let her process and heal from this.”
Kieran smirked. I knew him well enough to brace for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “Why, so you can move in?” he asked with a wink. “You are in love with her, aren’t you?”
“I do care about Maila,” Zander said carefully but also confidently.
“I’m not ashamed to say it. Unlike you, I see the wonderful woman that she is and how much she has to offer.
I would never dream of hurting her. Using her the way you have.
” As he said the last part, he rubbed his thumb against my shoulder. Affectionately. Possessively.
A beat passed.
Everything happened at once.
A flurry of movement. Kieran was no longer across from me.
There was shouting all around. I twisted to look behind me and saw Enforcers from both sides of the table converging on one spot.
In the breaks between them, I caught flashes of fabric and of limbs.
I heard a series of thuds, a zapping noise, something slamming against the carpeted floor, a shuffling of fabric, a zapping noise again, and various other sounds that I couldn’t place.
And grunting and Enforcers giving commands overlapping with one another.
Then there was quiet.
When the knot of Enforcers thinned, I saw Zander sitting with his head in hands. Blood poured between his fingertips, gushing down his arms in rivulets. There was so much that it was impossible to locate the source. His eyes were squeezed shut. He was panting heavily.
Next to him, Kieran lay prone on the ground, hands bound behind his back this time instead of in front of him. His ankles were bound as well. He was unconscious.
“Well,” Addis said from his spot at the table.
“Things have certainly taken a turn. I was hoping we could all remain civilized, but we are dealing with a Stranger here. Maila?” At my name, I tore my eyes away from the scene behind me.
Addis was standing, as were Quinn, Westley, and Cato.
“Rest up, and we’ll chat more later.” Then over my shoulder, “Bergam, why don’t you take Maila home? ”
Before I could respond, the round-faced Enforcer with the blue eyes was standing in front of me, offering a hand to help me rise. I took it and was immediately grateful for the support, my legs wobbling. He was directing me toward the door we had entered through when I paused, turning back around.
“What about Kieran?” I asked. Several Enforcers had positioned themselves around his limp body and were beginning to lift him.
“Don’t worry,” Addis replied warmly. “He has a lot to answer for, but we’ll be taking him somewhere safe and secure in the meantime.”
The word “secure” set off those warning bells again, but Bergam had a hand on my back and was gently but swiftly guiding me forward.
My head still turned, I heard the click of the door opening behind me.
Meanwhile, the Enforcers back at the table, with a suspended Kieran between them, were starting to move toward the alternate exit that Leon had left through earlier.
Even after everything, I made a move to go back. Back to Kieran.
But Bergam pushed me—hard this time—out the door and pulled it shut behind us.
“Here’s you,” Bergam said cheerfully, holding my apartment door open for me.
My new door, I observed. Someone had replaced it while we were gone.
I stepped inside and noticed immediately that all remnants of my old door had been cleared away. It even looked like someone had gone the extra step to clean my carpet.
I moved deeper into the room.
The counter above my cabinets was the cleanest I had ever seen it.
Practically shining. The saucer and glass that Kieran had used were no longer in the sink.
The desk also had the gleam of being freshly wiped down.
My candles, which had been stumpy and dripping from use, had been replaced with new ones.
The bed was made. I could only assume that my comforter had been replaced, as the one in its place was nearly identical but missing a few rips and permanent stains that had accrued over the years.
I turned on my heel and hurried to my bathroom to find a similar scene—everything fresh, clean, sparkling. The towels and bandages and other items that Kieran had used the night before were gone.
I knew, intuitively, that the items Kieran had used, the traces of him left here, were not simply put away. I went to the kitchen cabinet where I kept cups and plates.
Three glasses and three saucers. I was missing one of each.
“Who cleaned my apartment?” I turned back to Bergam, who was still standing in the doorway. “And why?”
“You’ve been through a lot,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “And we kicked down your door. The Council thought it was the least we could do for you.”
The answer only raised additional questions. Had someone literally been standing around the corner with a fresh comforter and a caddy of cleaners, waiting for the Enforcers to usher Kieran and I out so they could get to work?
Instead, the question I asked was, “When can I see Kieran?”
Bergam gave me a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Kieran doesn’t seem to play well with others,” he said, as if that were an answer. “Why don’t you just focus on getting some rest, and I’ll be out here if you need me.”
We shared a long look as his meaning sunk in. He wasn’t going anywhere.
And neither was I.
Bergam stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. I continued to stand there motionless, staring after him.
Eventually something in me urged me to move, at least enough to go sit down.
I passed my desk and my bed. I thought about opening the glass door and going to my balcony, my usual spot.
But something told me there was an Enforcer posted just out of view, eyes trained on the balcony.
Partnered with Bergam to make sure I stayed put.
I sat down in the middle of the floor. I considered myself to be a clean person, but my carpet truly hadn’t been this clean since I first moved in ten years ago. I ran my hand across the fibers.
Slowly, a rumbling began to build in me. It rose up like a tsunami.
I curled into a ball, pulling my legs into me.
Wrapping my arms around them. Holding on so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
My breaths came fast and hard as I squeezed my eyes shut, willing someone, anyone, to rescue me from what was coming.
But the wave was rolling in and there was no stopping it.
The sound that erupted from me was somewhere between a scream and a wail.
No one was coming to save me. No one cared enough.
In every aspect of life, I was just a means to an end. Something to be manipulated. Something to be used. Something to be lied to and taken from and ripped to pieces until there was nothing left of me.
And I felt it again. Rushing through me, filling every part of me.
The same feeling that consumed me after I watched the light go out in Irene’s eyes.
Smothering the sobs that wracked my whole body.
Smothering my sense of self. Smothering any flicker of anything that was left in me.
That creeping numbness. That living death.
It was all that I could feel. All that I was.
I felt nothing.
Absolutely nothing.