Chapter 39 Thea
THEA
His arms wrapped around me might as well be barbed wire for how they make me feel.
I was instructed to wait here until breakfast was ready.
This position has my back to the door so he could easily check if I was in the spot without me knowing.
I can’t risk his anger yet. The irony is I need him to feel safe, so when I do lash out at him it’ll catch him off guard, giving me my best chance at success.
“Breakfast is ready,” he croons in my ear. I so desperately want to rub my shoulder against my ear to get that feeling off of me. He leads me out of the room and back to the same seat as last night to eat. Gods forbid I sit in a different spot.
There’s eggs, toast, pancakes, bacon. So much food. “Eat up, we’ll need the energy.” He winks. Does anyone really pull off winking? It always looks cringey and coming from him, it couldn’t be worse.
Wordlessly, I put some eggs and toast on my plate and begin eating.
I need a weapon. Something that could knock him unconscious would be best, but I probably wouldn’t be able to conceal any object like that.
Also, there’s the height difference. I doubt I’d be able to swing hard enough to hit his head.
A knife is probably best. The thought of actually stabbing someone makes me sick.
Although, stabbing Mark, the man who killed Connor, doesn’t sound so bad.
I can’t really dissect what that means for me to be okay with that.
I’m sure Connor wouldn’t have a problem with it.
You need to survive Thea, by whatever means necessary.
“Are you feeling better?” he asks, jolting me out of my thoughts. I glance in his direction. His expression is soft, as if he’s concerned. He could never make me believe he actually felt that way.
“A little bit, still kind of tired,” I say, hoping that can become a handy excuse later on.
He nods sympathetically but I see it if only for a moment, the tightening of his eyes.
Not going according to your plan? Good. Well, actually no I don’t want him annoyed.
Ugh. Playing along so he’s at ease and keeping my anger in check is harder than I thought it’d be.
But I can’t push the anger down. It’s really the only thing keeping me together, and I won’t let him break me again.
He doesn’t get to win.
That means I’ll have to do something bold.
My stomach turns at the thought. It might be my only play.
With my plan forming, I keep up the small talk over breakfast. I try to drag out our conversation.
I’m not ready for what comes next. There’s a clock on the wall near the bedroom door, it’s how I know we ended up eating and talking for about an hour and a half. I can’t stretch it out further.
He doesn’t take long to clean up and soon, he’s grabbing my hand and pulling me to the bedroom and shutting the door. Fuck. My chest feels tight with fear. Pull it together, you have a plan. The bonds have been weirdly quiet the last couple hours. I hope they’ll find me but I can’t wait for that.
Mark turns to face me, his gray eyes dark. It’s terrifying. Connor. He killed him, took him away from me, from Sophie, Max, James, and Mateo. He. Won’t. Win.
Feeling my resolve, I take a deep breath and prepare for the act of my life, literally. Before he moves to me, I approach him. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Good. Grabbing his shirt, I pull myself into him, hugging him tightly. He returns the hug easily.
Gods, my heart is beating so fast. I release him and take his hand, leading him to the bed and giving his chest a light push for him to sit.
He does so without question. He’s only wearing a plain white t-shirt and some sleep pants that are doing nothing to hide how turned on his is.
Don’t acknowledge that. I know my strengths and weaknesses and I know I can’t pull off hiding my disgust at that well.
With him sitting, his face is near level with mine.
I step between his spread legs, moving closer to him and running my hand up his cheek and into his hair.
Just do it, stick to the plan. I kiss him hard.
I don’t think I can be soft even while trying to play along.
His hands immediately grab my hips on either side, pulling me closer and damn near on top of him.
It’s all for show, just be enough for him to buy it and hopefully keep my breakfast down.
We make out for who knows how long. I need a bar of soap to wash his taste out of my mouth. Anything would be better than that. Breaking apart, I play up how breathless I am. His smile is so dopey and blissed out. Good.
“Whoa, that was intense.” I pause, swallowing.
He follows the action. “I need some water. Can I go get us some in the kitchen? We’re going to need it and I rather we don’t leave the bed once we really get going,” I say with a huskier voice than I thought I had in me and lean back into his space to drive it home.
This is it, the crux of my plan. If he’s comfortable enough after that display of my “love”—gag—he’ll let me grab it alone, giving me a chance to swipe a knife.
Please, please let it have worked, I’m begging anyone who’s listening.
He leans down, kissing my neck once, twice before saying, “Yes my flower, go get us some water and hurry back.” He punctuates it with a third kiss, teasing his teeth on my skin. I nearly jump out of my skin when he does it.
I open the door and close it halfway behind me, because if I close it all the way I think he’d be suspicious.
I grab two bottles of water from the fridge and luckily, I don’t have to search for a knife as two are still in the strainer by the sink.
They must be from last night. Now how to hide it.
I still have the sleep shirt he made me wear; it has long sleeves with the ends buttoned, cinching it tighter around my wrists.
Putting it in my sleeve is the only option.
I quickly but carefully slide it under the fabric until the handle is resting at my wrist. I have to angle my hand to hold it there while my arm is down.
I have to use it the first chance I get.
He’ll notice it quickly if he’s driving the action.
Great I’m gonna have to do a repeat of what just happened.
I’m so close just a little longer. Steeling myself again, I return to the room with a little jog so he sees my supposed excitement.
Placing the water on the bedside table, I return to my previous position between his legs.
What would immobilize him more? Probably if he’s on his back.
I hope my guys forgive me for what I’m doing.
Stop, I can’t think of them right now. I’ll never pull this off if I do.
I can’t muster the strength to give him any kind of happy or sexy expression so I kiss him again.
This time I move so I’m now sitting on his lap.
Ignoring what I feel pressing against me there, I put more pressure on his chest until he takes the hint and lies back.
Now fully on top of him, I keep my right arm further down to my side with my hand braced on the bedside table so it’s out of his line of sight.
My left hand is right next to his face on the bed.
Sleight of hand…isn’t that the key to most magicians’ tricks? Let’s see if I’ll have beginner’s luck.
“Mhm, fuck. You taste so good,” he moans as we break apart and he sits up, his hands now coming up to grope my chest. Before I can do the next step, he’s ripping my shirt, sending buttons flying in all directions and exposing my chest to him completely.
It’s fine. Play the part. The steel of the knife is burning me, as if screaming to be released.
He needs to be distracted; I can’t risk him seeing me taking the knife out.
“So perfect, my omega,” he says right before taking one of my breasts in his mouth.
His eyes are closed. This is my chance. My hand is shaking.
Fuck don’t wimp out now. Moving my hand and angling it so the knife slides out of my sleeve, I fumble a bit, trying to turn it around but manage it. I’m freezing. No, no, no, no.
You didn’t do this to fail. I need to get out of here. For Connor. For Keelan. For Parker, Eli, Ben, Liam, Jake. For Micah.
I honestly don’t know what happened in the next ten seconds but when I look down, Mark’s shocked face has gone incredibly pale and he falls back to the bed. The knife is sticking out of his stomach just below his ribs. A red stain spreads out like a plague on his white shirt.
I need to move, to run. I rush to get off of him and the bed.
Once my feet are firmly on the floor, I take one full step, intending to run when he trips me on my second step.
Letting out a scream as I fall, I try to turn as much as I can so I don’t face plant.
It didn’t matter what I did the space we’re in because I fell right into the corner of the dresser by the door.
My head took the brunt of it and my body is slow to catch up.
The pain is immediate. I’ve never had a headache like this.
Black spots are dancing around my vision.
Mark pulls me up by my hair, making me scream again.
“You fucking bitch. This is what you do to the one person who loves you,” he growls out, wrapping a hand around my throat, the other around my waist to keep me upright.
I have no strength left. The bonds are singing with concern and fear.
I can’t block the pain from them. I’m so sorry.
I tried. I really did. That fall was bad, I don’t think I can stay awake.
Are my eyes still open? Everything’s black, I don’t hear Mark anymore.
That’s nice at least. The pain is still there, both in my head and his hand squeezing my throat.
With the little bit I have left, I push everything I feel for my mates down the bonds before a loud bang rings in my ears. It’s so close.