49. Chapter 49
Maryn
Isat up, wrapping my arms over my chest to cover my sore nipples from the chill in the air. I could have said no. But I needed him to trust me.
My dress hung in his closet, perfectly pressed. But I stared at it and frowned. Something so bright would be visible against the black backdrop of the night.
I crossed the room, tugging one of his black button-down shirts from its hanger and sliding my arms inside.
Nervous energy shot through me as I glanced over my shoulder. His face was still pressed into the pillow, lashes resting against his cheek.
In sleep, he was the boy I’d watched on television all my life: innocent and a little naive. Today, he’d proven he was still that boy. Incapable of being anything other than his father’s son.
There had been moments these weeks we spent together that I thought he could be different, steer this nation in a new direction. But when faced with his first challenge as president, he chose the path of least resistance and killed six innocent people.
The cold stone in my stomach grew heavier.
They had died because of me. Elias had ordered it from a stage, hidden behind a title and a drone feed.
Dark eyes that promised death flashed in my mind. A different kind of killer. One who got his hands dirty and never asked for credit.
I padded across the room.
Halfway to the door, I froze.
“Just promise me you won’t run from me again.”
I kept walking.
His hand slamming the table. “I’m freaking out a little here, and I can’t even fathom what I’d do if you weren’t by my side through all of this.”
Would this man truly let me go? Could I escape him?
“And you’re mine.”
My gaze swung wildly around the room, landing on one of the trophies lined up on Elias’s dresser. It was pointed at the tip. Sharp enough to cut through skin.
I moved toward it. There was only one way.
I lifted the object, feeling its cool weight in my palm. Spinning around, I crept back to the bed, stopping over Elias.
Tendrils of blond hair fanned out on his dark sheets, making him appear angelic. Like the paintings in old religious texts the Covenant had loosely based our rules on.
He inhaled deeply, his exhale ghosting over my cheeks as I leaned closer.
My heart banged painfully against my ribs as I lifted the trophy.
His lashes trembled, eyes moving rapidly under his lids.
My arm stiffened, and I brought it up higher.
“Maryn.”
I froze, every muscle locking.
His lashes stilled. He didn’t move.
Still asleep.
The lake surfaced without warning. That first view from above—endless blue swallowing the horizon. His hand steadying me at the edge when my stomach had dropped. He’d been trying to impress me and gotten it wrong, and somehow, I’d felt safe anyway.
My arm dropped.
What are you doing, Maryn?
I turned, set the trophy back on its stand, and fled.
In the hall, I tiptoed to the side door he’d shown me yesterday. I left my tablet and anything that might be used to track me behind.
Boots clapped loudly on cement, and I pressed my back to the wall, holding my breath.
They continued, and I exhaled softly.
I reached the door, and panic zinged through me. A red bar was lit overhead. Locked. It must be biometric, but only at night. It was why no one guarded it.
Stupid, Maryn.
I chewed my nail, tearing off the corner. The front door was the only option.
I dropped my hand, retracing my steps and slipped into the hall at the entrance to President Hale’s office. The former president. No need to guard it now.
In the foyer, voices carried over the expansive space.
“Did you see him begging?” a man said.
Another man snorted. “Please! Please, it wasn’t me!”
Heat flared to life in my veins, racing up my arms and plunging into my chest.
“Yeah. Like we’d buy that. President Hale wouldn’t make shit up.”
I glanced through the half-open door, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon, cursing myself for not bringing the trophy with me.
“What about Maureen, though?”
I paused, leaning toward their conversation.
“She’s got nice tits. I’ll take care of her.”
I fisted my hands at my side. There was no need to hear more.
I stepped into the office. I needed something that wouldn’t look like a weapon if I were caught before I had a chance to use it. I skipped over pictures and old maps, books and letters under glass from the pre-war era.
My gaze landed on a tiny flag proudly displayed on the desk. I picked it up, touching the tip. Not sharp exactly, but the pole was solid metal with a pointed end. I tore the flag off the metal and slid it up my wrist.
Turning, I grabbed a bottle of amber liquid from the shelf along the wall.
Moving down the hall, I stopped at the corner.
“Hey, man. I gotta take a number two.”
“You’re sick, Marsh.”
I pressed flat against the wall, my heart thundering in my chest. A pair of boots thumped loudly as one man, Marsh, marched by. When he was gone, I pushed off the wall, rounding the corner.
The remaining guard straightened to attention, weapon at the ready.
I lifted the hand with the flagpole hidden up the sleeve and tugged Elias’s collar apart, revealing more skin.
“Hey.” My voice came out thick, less sultry than I’d tried for.
His eyebrows rose as his gaze swept over me. “Miss.”
“What are you doing out here by yourself?” I sauntered toward him, the whiskey bottle sloshing in my left hand.
“Keeping you safe, miss.”
I laughed, stopping a few feet away. “Have a drink with me?”
He glanced around. “I shouldn’t.”
I stepped closer. “Outside? No one will see.”
He cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to my naked legs.
“One?”
I laughed again. “Unless you wanted more.”
His shoulders drooped, gun falling to his side.
“Sure.”
The door opened, and a tremor shot through me, the outside world coming into view. He held it for me, and I strolled past him, smiling as I went.
The long drive was dark; no sign of guards outside. I exhaled a whoosh of air.
The guard’s hand landed on my shoulder, spinning me around, and I stumbled into him.
“Oh yeah, you’re feisty,” he said, walking me backward until I was pressed against the wall.
I wedged a hand between us, shoving, but he was immovable, crowding in and licking the side of my face. My chest seized as he pressed into me harder, his erection unmistakable through the thin fabric, my shoulder blade grinding into the wall.
I winced. “What about that drink?” My voice was breathless and far less confident than I needed to regain control of the situation.
His big hand came up, groping my breast through my shirt. “You like that?” he asked, ignoring my question.
Ice froze me in place as I gave up all pretense of the game and wriggled under his weight.
His gun slid into its holster, and a second hand dug painfully into my hip. “Mother.” He groaned, grinding against my stomach. “There’s nothing under that shirt, is there?”
I tried to bring my knee up, to tear his hands off me, but he was far stronger.
“Stop,” I demanded.
He laughed, the hand on my hip sliding down until fingers scalded my bare flesh.
“You came straight out after you fucked him, didn’t you?” He licked my face again, rough fingers sliding along my thigh. “I bet you’re still wet.”
I fought harder, shoving with all my strength.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you like he couldn’t.”
I stilled, the fight draining out of me. I couldn’t win. I couldn’t stop what was about to happen to me.
Calden’s warm breath against my ear surfaced, and I clung to the memory, trying to block out the hands ravaging my body. His words came back to me in a rush. His soft touches.
“A blade, or anything sharp. Slid between the ribs.” A gentle finger traced the line of my ribs. “Will incapacitate a man long enough for you to run.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to incapacitate this man. I wanted him dead.
Calden’s phantom thumb touched the sensitive skin behind my ear, then slid lower, tracing a line along my neck. “A blade across tender flesh, or a quick, deep jab. A man doesn’t get back up.”
My eyes flew open, and my grip tightened around my weapon.
The guard’s neck was tilted as he leaned lower, sliding his tongue down my chest.
I raised the weapon over my head and slammed it down with all my might, driving it into his neck until my fist met flesh. My whole arm rang with it.
He gurgled something, his grip on my sensitive skin loosening, and his head sank against my half-exposed breasts. He slid to his knees, choking, spitting up blood.
I kicked him off me, watching as he fell backward into the dirt.
Overhead, thunder cracked, jolting me back to my body.
Escape. I had to escape.
The man’s eyes dulled, his stare on some distant point. I didn’t waste time checking for a pulse. I leaned down, wrapping my arms around him and dragging him away from the door.
Thunder clapped again, and a drop splashed my cheek. It burned. I winced, pulling harder on the dead weight. Another drop landed on my calf, and I gasped. Ten feet. It would have to be enough.
Soft rattling sounded from under the bushes. A snake was coiled tight, hissing each time a splash landed. Our eyes met. You won’t survive here.
Then, the sky broke open. I ran.
Under the roof’s overhang, I wiped my wet arms, whimpering as red welts rose.
I had to wash it off.
Where are you?
Inching around the side of the house, back to the front door, a set of lights flashed on once, then off. At the end of the drive, a dark car with one-way windows made my chest swell.
I waved my hands over my head.
He was parked less than two hundred yards away—still a death sentence in this rain.
My limbs trembled, the events of the evening catching up with me.
The engine purred as the car rolled toward Elias’s driveway.
It stopped as a set of bright beams flashed onto the road, barreling toward him.
He rolled forward, lights off, past the drive, and my chest tightened.
No.
A massive black vehicle bounced toward me, headlights blinding me. I swore, turning and grabbing the front door. I twisted it, pushed inside, and ran to the hall restroom.
I scrubbed. He would wait. We would wait for the rain to stop.