CHAPTER THIRTY
LILA
I watch as my world stands still while New York City buzzes with life beyond my window.
The nightlife glows, electric and endless, as I lie in bed where I’ve been since Kage dropped me off five hours ago.
The rest of the ride was dead silent. Neither of us said a single word.
All I could do was let silent tears slide down my cheeks as the trees blurred past the window.
He shattered me with a single, thoughtless move.
And I showed him exactly how brittle I really am.
Wow, Lila. You really are fragile. Nothing like Aster. Nothing like Jasmine. Nothing like Natasha.
I thought I was having fun playing his game. But maybe he took it too far. Or perhaps I did.
Either way, he doesn’t have to think about money. Or consequences. Or people like me.
I flip over, facing the wall where the vent with the hidden camera sits. "If you’re wondering why I’m rotting in bed," I say, my voice hollow, "it’s because I’ve had a terrible day." My voice dips as I feel the tears threaten to break free. "But it’s not like you care."
I feel insane talking to the vent. He’s probably not even watching me. Why would he? He left his mask behind. That was his way of saying goodbye. And I know deep down… that was the last moment I’ll ever see him. "Also… if you texted me, I don’t have a phone anymore."
My voice cracks. "Or maybe you didn’t text me at all."
The words fall out, broken, splintering the little strength I have left. A tear spills onto my pillow. And then another. And then I can’t stop them. “I’m nothing. No one. Who could love a girl who can’t even stand her own reflection? ”
At that, my whole body caves in, and I sob into my pillow, drowning in it. Nothing but my cries and their echo in this tiny studio apartment. He’s not there. He’s not watching. He’s busy with someone worth his time. Someone who isn’t me.
The clock on the wall glows 7:45 p.m. Time doesn’t care that I’m falling apart.
Maybe I should shower.
Mascara streaks my face. I smell like snot and rock bottom. But before I can move…
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
I bolt upright, my heart pounding against my ribs. A cold wave of fear rushes through me. My body trembles, buzzing with panic.
Is it Natasha’s guards? Did she find out I hacked her computer? Her brother, The Wolf? Is it his men? Well… if it were them, they wouldn’t be knocking. They’d just barge in and kill me.
I glance down at myself. A blue satin nightgown clings to my skin, and my long blonde hair is twisted into a messy bun. I’m not exactly decent. Should I pretend I’m not home? But if I don’t answer, they might break the door down.
“Who is it?” My voice comes out shaky, barely louder than a whisper. Silence. “Hello?”
There’s no peephole. My door is so old, I can’t even check if this person looks remotely safe.
Am I about to get kidnapped again? What will they make me do this time?
I slowly reach for the tarnished silver knob, trying to compose myself. My palm is slick with sweat. I can barely hold on. I crack the door open, keeping the chain in place. It’s flimsy and useless, but it’s all I’ve got. If someone wanted me badly enough, they’d rip it off and take me anyway.
“Are you Miss Anderson?” A teenage guy stands there, stoned out of his mind. Greasy hair. Pale skin. An unruly beard. A red cap and a matching collared shirt that resembles a local delivery service uniform.
“Um… I am. Is everything okay?” My voice is tight, but my heart finally starts to slow.
He doesn’t seem like a threat.
“Everything’s great. Just have a few bags and packages for you.” I glance down and see five or six reusable grocery bags and two small boxes piled near the door.
“For me?”
“Yes, ma’am. Want me to bring them in?”
“No!” I cut him off, too fast. “Just… leave them right there. I’ll get them. Um, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for the generous tip and for using our services.” He strolls down the stairs, whistling as if this were just another ordinary delivery.
I have packages? From who? Why? Am I still in danger? Could it be a bomb? Did he find a way to reach me from prison?
Inhale. Exhale.
“You’re okay, Lila. You’re not in danger.” I shut the door and press my back against it, breathing slow and deep, holding a hand to my chest. "You’re okay. You’re not in danger." I whisper it again, trying to convince myself, trying to calm my fight-or-flight mode.
I’ve already had a pretty shitty day. But with the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were a bomb.
I unlock the door, slide the cheap chain off, and peek my head out, left and right.
Nothing. No one .
Well. Here goes nothing.
I grab the bags quickly and drop them inside, slamming the door shut and locking it again. Not that the lock makes me feel any safer.
I plop down in front of the pile, emotionally and physically wrecked.
Tearing the first box open, I gasp. A brand-new phone.
Top of the line. Shiny. Pristine. This thing probably costs three grand, way more than I could ever afford.
The kind of phone someone with my status wouldn’t even dare touch in a store.
And sitting right on top of the screen, a sticky note, written in the most beautiful, clean handwriting I’ve ever seen: "Everything has already been set up.
Your contacts and pictures have been transferred. "
Short. Sweet. To the point.
Is this really… mine?
I rip into the second box, and my breath hitches.
Bandages. Cleaning solution. Antibiotic ointment.
Everything I’d need to treat the cut on my neck.
The one I still haven’t even cleaned because I came home and collapsed in bed and never moved.
Another note is tucked inside: "I don’t need you ending up in the hospital.
Clean it up and be at work on Monday. Don’t be late. "
Kage? It must be. Could this be his apology? He didn’t say sorry, but then again, neither did I.
I reach for the rest of the bags and halt. This isn’t cheap instant junk. It’s real food, fresh, expensive, too good for me. A note peeks out from between the bags, and a laugh slips from my lips before I can swallow it down.
"Throw the ramen away. That shit is bad for you."
I shake my head, muttering, "You sound like my mom."
My eyes drift back to the phone. The bandages. The groceries .
It’s him. This is from Kage. He did this. But why? Is this an apology? A bribe to keep my mouth shut? Or just another chess move in a game where I don’t even know the rules?
My stomach twists. I clutch the new phone against my chest, feeling the weight of it. And for the first time tonight, I can’t tell if it’s a gift or a loaded weapon, waiting to break whatever pieces of me are still left.
I guess I’ll find out.