Chapter 67
Isabella
Look Inward
The air was still, almost suffocating as I tried to keep my panic at bay. No one in my family understood my desire to create a fortress, a sanctuary where I could be in solitude without prying questions.
No one understood that the walls I erected were a coping mechanism from the world I’d left behind all those years ago. Well, no one understood, except maybe her. But how on earth was Kinsley, the silly girl I had been rolling my eyes at every time her name was mentioned, one of my season sisters?
How?
Memories crept in like tendrils of smoke from my father’s cigars. I had tried so hard to bury those, and when I couldn’t shove them down, I painted or drew. The pounding in my head was loud, like an unrelenting war drum. I needed distance, like, yesterday.
When I managed to tear my eyes from her and looked at Nikolai, an electric surge of fear raced through my veins. She still looked sweet and shy. Just a slightly older version of the dancing girl I once knew. With my heart racing, I did the only thing I knew how to do; I ran.
Each step propelled me farther from her, from the memories clawing at my soul. But now, standing in my room at their house, the panic seized me. Did they know about her past? What if she’d talked already? I then remembered my mother and Sophia discussing Marcel and how he was counseling her.
Shit.
My skin crawled as thoughts of her talking to him about all we’d endured threatened to choke the very breath from my lungs. I couldn’t stay. There was no way in hell I could. If Marcel knew, then Bash would know.
They didn’t keep secrets from one another, especially when it came to family. This was why I stayed cooped up, confined to my small little world. You couldn’t run into your past if you didn’t go anywhere.
Leave, my brain shouted. Save yourself, at any cost. Do what you must.
Still feeling like I was in another world, I pulled my suitcase onto my bed. My muscles constricted, and my heart was on the edge of exploding. I needed to get out of here immediately. But before I could, Sebastian stormed into my room.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Great, perfect. Just what I needed.
I rolled my eyes, which I knew he hated with a passion. The irony was not lost on me that the hell I endured, elements of the lifestyle that kept me frozen in a place of perpetual fear, was something my brother and his friends practiced.
Practiced? Do you hear yourself, stupid? They don’t just practice it. They live it; it invades every aspect of their lives, and if you didn’t love them as much as you do, you’d be horrified.
I knew in my heart they were not like the men who had taken me and kept me for two years. I knew they didn’t subject women to cruelty. They would no more hurt another woman than they would me.
But the reality remained, and now—dear god—Spring was involved with them. I gulped, not even able to comprehend how that could happen. The sheer thought of it sickened me down to my core.
“Don’t do that with me, young lady.”
A scowl darkened his expression. I purposefully put my hands on my hips and gave him an exaggerated eye roll. What was he going to do about it? I picked up my phone and went to text him, but he grabbed it out of my hands.
“No. Enough, you can talk. Tell me what the fuck that was about?”
He was only being bossy because Mum and Dad weren’t around. Did I have them wrapped around my finger? Did I have them catering to my needs? Hell yes, I did. Did I feel guilty about it? Not in the least bit.
I did what I had to, to keep myself safe and sane. Feeling secure was the only thing that got me from point A to point B. Never mind that point A and point B rarely meant leaving the house or my comfort zones, but it worked.
“Bella, don’t be a child. For fuck’s sake, you’re twenty-three years old. You’re not a little girl. Grow the fuck up. If Alek, Nik, and Ivan want to sleep with the same girl, then that’s their business.”
Stupid, foolish man. He was clueless. He thought I cared about who the King brothers were sleeping with. I shook my head and snorted in laughter. I couldn’t care less who or what they were doing. It wasn’t my business. If I wanted to, I would tell him so, but all I could think about was going home.
I sneered, loving how he thought taking my phone was going to make me talk. He could keep it. It only provided me with another excuse to keep quiet. I began pulling clothes out of the dresser and threw them in the suitcase. And just as quickly, he pulled them out.
“Don’t make me call Father, young lady.”
He grabbed my hands, but I yanked away from him, smacking him on the chest. He easily towered over me and grabbed my wrists shoving them behind my back.
Through clenched teeth, he seethed and said, “Stop.”
I fought every instinct in me to go slack in his hands, afraid if I did, he’d see right through to my secret hell. So I did what I never could back then. I bucked against his hold, twisting and writhing, becoming feral almost. He held firm.
“Let me go,” I yelled. Tears of frustration and fear stung my eyes.
But his grip only tightened, so I kicked and shoved my body into his, my movements frantic. Even though his strength overpowered mine, I kept struggling, desperate to escape.
“Stop fighting me, and I will,” he commanded.
“Never,” I hissed.
Something in my eyes must have gotten through to him, because he sighed and released his grip. Immediately, I brought my wrists to the front, rubbing them where his fingers had dug into my skin.
My breath came in ragged gasps as I struggled to regain my composure. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins, and my chest heaved as I tried to steady myself.
Taking his phone out, he said, “You’ve brought this on yourself.”
It was obvious who he was going to tattle to, and I relished it. Let him call our parents. I glared at him, defiance burning in my chest. I turned back to my suitcase and resumed packing with exaggerated, angry movements.
As I tossed the unfolded clothes into the bottom, I couldn’t resist sticking my tongue out at him, a gesture that felt oddly satisfying.
Childish? Absolutely. Did I care? Not at all.
Bash put his phone on speaker, and the ringing filled the room. I tried to ignore how hard my heart was pounding in my chest. Anger and anxiety churned in my stomach, and I froze, mid-toss, as my father’s voice crackled through the speaker.
“Son, is everything okay?”
There was nothing I loved more than the sound of my father’s voice. It was rich and refined, and his accent, even after all the years of living in London, was authentic to our heritage.
It was the one thing I dreamed about hearing the most while I was kept. My father used to read me stories each night, and whenever I heard his voice, it automatically transported me to a safe place.
“Papà, Bash is being mean to me,” I cried.
Sebastian’s eyes flared with resentment. His perfectly square jaw, which he inherited from my father, tightened as he glared. It was his turn to roll his eyes.
“Oh, now you’ve found your voice. How convenient.”
“What on earth is going on? You know your sister is sensitive,” Father boomed, a hint of reproach in his voice.
“Sensitive? No, what she is, is a brat. And you and Mother have spoiled her to the point where she is rotten.”
“That’s enough, Son,” my father chastised before directing his next words to me. “Love bug, what’s wrong? Talk to Papà.”
This only made my brother fume even more, and I grinned at him while I spoke to our father.
“Papà, I can’t stay here. I want to go home, and Bash is trying to stop me. I don’t care if you and Mama aren’t there. Please don’t make me stay.”
I fake sobbed, knowing my father would do the right thing.
“Oh, no, you don’t. Father, I swear if you could see her right now, she has a smirk the size of Buckingham Palace plastered to her face.”
“Traitor,” I whispered as he chuckled.
My father released a deep sigh. He understood more than anyone else that when I made my mind up, I made it up. He also knew I wouldn’t last a night at home by myself without having a full panic attack.
“Love bug, your mother and I are only going to be gone a few more days. Is it that serious?”
“Yes, it is. I don’t want to be here another second.”
My father sighed. “I’ll send Sampson to pick you up.”
Sebastian disconnected the call and shook his head in disappointment. I continued putting my clothes in the suitcase, throwing them in haphazardly. It would take Sampson about twenty minutes, give or take, to get here. My ass planned on being outside waiting for him.
“Bella, how much longer are you going to do this? You can’t keep running.”
“Watch me, big brother,” I mumbled under my breath, moving over to the bathroom.
He followed me. “I have a serious question for you. Do you plan to keep using your past as an excuse to control Mum and Dad forever?” His words cut through the space.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to meet his gaze. There was so much truth to his words. They stung, but the panic inside me refused to allow me to answer. Instead, I grabbed my makeup bag and other bathroom items and kept on packing.
If I focused on the task at hand, then I could manage the attack that was threatening to consume me. Bash leaned against the doorframe, blocking my path, his expression tense.
“Do you have any idea what they’ve given up for you? Their entire lives revolve around you, are dedicated to ensuring you feel safe. The only friends they have now are the Kings. And it’s all to make sure you’re comfortable.”
Damn him. I glared and then tried to move around him. But he wasn’t budging. I counted to twenty inside my head and took a deep breath. It was easier for me to retreat and shut down. It was all I knew how to do.
“What kind of life is this?” he continued, softening his voice.
“You’re so blindsided by the fact that your sense of control is fake.
It’s not real. You think you’ve got this fortress built around you, keeping you safe in a cocoon?
It’s not real, Sissy. You have to manipulate everyone around you to get the results you crave.
Mum and Dad let you. But I won’t. You call this false sense of control a safety measure, but it’s just a prison. One of your own doing.”
My throat closed tight, and I blinked back tears. He had no idea the extent his words had on me at that moment. He may as well have punched me. The struggle to keep my emotions in check and not fall to my knees was monumental.
Why did it have to be her?
He raked his hand through his hair, and his frustration mounted with my silence. “What happens when Mum and Dad are gone?”
I gasped. That reality was far away. Our parents weren’t that old. I wanted to scream at him to shut the hell up.
“Do you think this can go on forever? Damn, don’t you want a future? A life outside of this one?”
Our eyes locked, and my coping mechanisms, which truly ran the show, reared their defiant heads.
“This is how I survive. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you or your friends ever again. I thought you understood by now. I will do whatever it is I have to to feel safe.”
“But it’s contrived, this safety you think you’re creating. Why can’t you see that? If you have to run, then you’re not free.”
“Oh, that’s rich.”
I shook my head, hating myself for not being able to stop the words that demanded to be said. I stared deep into his eyes, wanting to inflict the same measure of pain his words had done to me seconds ago.
“How about instead of worrying about me and my life, you look inward. Ask yourself how long you’re going to pine for a dead girl? What about your life, your future? Just going to live vicariously through your best friends? Come talk to me when you’re ready to deal with your shit, Brother.”
He drew back as if I’d slapped him, and his eyes grew sad as he shook his head. With a voice filled with disappointment, he said, “Fair enough.”
In my panic, I lashed out the only way I knew how. “You know, the ironic thing is my life would be all you think it should be and more if one single, solitary thing about that day had been different.”
His face went white as the color drained from his face. I never hated myself more than I did at that moment. I wanted to reel the words back in, and my heart seized inside my chest as guilt filled his eyes.
My heart felt like it had been pierced with a knife. I’d never brought up that day, never wanted to because I knew he felt horrible for not showing up.
But did I stop myself there? Reel it in? No, unfortunately, I didn’t.
“So go, run and be with your friends. It’s where you prefer to be, anyway. I’ve always wondered why you didn’t show up that day. You promised me you would. Oh well, I guess it doesn’t matter. Now, if you don’t mind.”
He let me pass, but not before I saw the full weight of my words and the pain they caused.
His shoulders slumped, as if he were physically bearing the weight of the world.
This was another reason I kept silent. My silence not only protected me but those around me from the rage waiting to be unleashed.
In silence, there was safety, no matter what he said.
Tears streaked down my cheeks, and I wiped them away angrily, hating them almost as much as I hated myself.
I was so tired at that moment, but my fight-or-flight response wouldn’t let me back down.
Not now. I threw the remaining things in the suitcase and zipped it closed.
He grabbed my arm, and I looked at the ground.
“Isabella, at the end of the day, I love you and want you to live a good life, a rich one, full of all the beautiful things this world has to offer.” He paused as his voice broke, and all the emotion he was feeling seeped out.
“I hope that having some time and space will help you clear your head on this. Kinsley could use a friend, and our annual summer trip is already scheduled. I hope Mum and Dad won’t have to miss that one, too, because you want to be stubborn. ”
Without so much as a glance at my brother, I walked out of the room.