26. Tristan
26
TRISTAN
W hen I come back down later with her dinner, I find her trying to pick the lock on her manacles with what looks like a splinter from the bedframe. Amusement ripples through me at the sight. I have to give it to her, at least she’s resourceful.
But I make sure to keep any traces of amusement from my face as I close the door behind me with a thud.
Elle leaps up from the bed and quickly tries to hide the splinter behind her back. I keep my eyes on her as I walk over and set the plate of rice and beef stew on the nightstand. She says nothing, but it looks like she has recovered fully from the side effects now. Though she looks a bit nervous. Probably because I caught her trying to pick the lock.
And because I fucking love lording my power over her, I decide to press the matter.
While letting a dark expression settle on my features, I straighten and then take a step towards her. She instinctively takes one back. And she keeps her hand hidden behind her.
“If you stick that into the lock, all that will happen is that splinters of wood will get stuck in it,” I say, locking hard eyes on her. “And then that will clog it so that it can’t be opened with the key. Is that what you want?”
A hint of alarm flickers across her face. Then she clears her throat. “No.”
I hold out my hand. “Then give it to me.”
She hesitates.
“You can either give it to me willingly, or I can come over there and take it from you,” I declare. I let threats and unflinching authority bleed into my voice as I add, “You have five seconds to decide.”
A jolt shoots through her. Then she hurries over and places the wooden splinter in my waiting palm.
Satisfaction washes through me. While slipping the splinter into my pocket, I nod towards the bed. “Sit.”
She watches me with suspicious eyes, but walks over to the spot I indicated and sits down.
“Eat,” I command.
For a few seconds, she just holds my gaze in stubborn silence. Then she heaves a resigned sigh and picks up the knife and fork and starts eating.
Smug victory pulses through me, and my cock hardens.
Fuck, I love bossing people around. But I love doing it to her more than anyone. Holding her life in the palm of my hand is so fucking addictive. And it’s even better when she knows it too. When she knows that she is entirely at my mercy. Oh, how the tables have turned since high school.
Just to rub it in her face, I remain standing there right in front of her while she eats, so that I can truly loom over her like her own personal god.
She grinds her teeth at the power play but doesn’t protest. Instead, she simply eats the food I brought her while purposely not looking up at me.
Once she has finished eating, I nod towards the empty plate. “Done?”
Slowly, she raises her head to meet my gaze. She holds it for a few seconds in complete silence. Then she says, “No.”
I frown. “What are?—”
She shoots up from the bed and stabs the utensils at me.
Leaping back, I barely manage to avoid getting a damn knife and fork buried in my chest. She misses by mere inches, but when my body is no longer there to meet her weapons, the move makes her stumble forward.
The moment she’s off balance, I launch my counterattack.
While she’s still staggering forwards, I swipe my foot and take her legs out underneath her. She hits the floor with a huff, but recovers immediately and slashes the knife through the air. I’m forced to jump to keep it from connecting with my calf.
Astonishment pulses through me.
Her technique is awful, but the sheer fierceness in her moves is incredible.
Landing on the floor again, I quickly kick the fork out of her hand and then drop down over her. The fork dings against the concrete as it skids across the floor.
Elle tries to roll away, but my knees hit the ground on either side of her before she can escape. Alarm flashes across her beautiful face.
Quickly shifting the knife to her other hand, she stabs it towards my throat.
I simply yank my hand up and grab her wrist before she can even get the strike halfway to my neck. With a firm grip on it, I hold her wrist steady while I reach out with my other hand and pluck the knife from her fingers. It clanks metallically as I toss it to the side. Then I return my attention to Elle.
Her chest is heaving and she yanks furiously to get her hand out of my grip. I flash her a sharp smile while I move her arm down until the back of her hand is pressed against the floor beside her head. Fury burns in her eyes as she struggles hard underneath me.
I chuckle and then shake my head, still astonished by her fight. “Where was this fire in high school?”
She glares up at me while grinding her teeth in annoyance. But she says nothing. Only tries to use her free hand to pry my fingers from her wrist. So I wrap my other hand around that wrist and shove it down on the ground next to her head, pinning both of her hands to the floor.
A frustrated snarl rips from her lungs, and she wiggles frantically underneath me. And because I’m straddling her hips, the move makes her grind herself against my cock.
Electricity shoots up my spine at the sensation.
It takes everything I have to keep it from showing on my face.
Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I try desperately to compose myself and block out the feeling.
“Answer me,” I demand, trying to focus on something other than how fucking good her body feels underneath mine. “Where was this fire back in high school?”
She lets out another frustrated noise and yanks futilely at my grip on her wrists.
“Do not make me ask you again,” I warn.
Anger flickers in her eyes, and she practically spits out her reply. “Do you really think the mayor’s daughter was allowed to get into knife fights? ”
And something about the bitterness in her tone sets my teeth on edge. She has no fucking right to be bitter. She grew up having everything. Her life was a fucking walk in the park. How dare she act as if her life has been hard?
“Aww, boohoo,” I taunt, and flick a mocking look up and down her body. “It must’ve been so hard to be the pretty little rich girl who got everything she ever wanted without even having to work for it.”
Her eyes flash with pure rage. “You know nothing about my life.”
“What’s there to know? You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You’ve never had to struggle. You’ve never experienced the pressure that comes from having to prove that you’re good enough. You’ve never had to experience how suffocating it is to not even have control over your own life. And you’ve never been able to understand that just one sentence can ruin someone’s entire life.”
The words just tumbled out of me. One after the other. Once I had started, I couldn’t seem to stop.
My chest is heaving now.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have said all that. I shouldn’t have allowed her to know what I’ve experienced. She doesn’t deserve to know how I feel.
Releasing her wrists, I abruptly climb off her and get to my feet. Then I start towards where the fork is lying on the floor.
Clothes rustle behind me. And so does the chain. I don’t turn to look. Instead, I just snatch up the fork from the floor.
“Why did you steal it?”
Her voice is like a sharp knife slicing through my soul. Not because of any venom in it. In fact, there is no accusation in her tone at all. It’s the exact opposite. Her voice is soft. Full of genuine confusion and curiosity .
With my back still to her, I squeeze my eyes shut in order to block out the sudden burst of pain behind my ribs. Then I flex my fingers on the fork and straighten.
When I turn back to face her, I find her standing in the spot where I left her. But there is no fury on her face anymore. Instead, her big brown eyes almost look a little sad. I grip the fork so hard that it almost bends in half.
“Because you did steal it, didn’t you?” she continues, her eyes searching my face. “You didn’t get arrested on false charges. They actually found all of that expensive equipment from the school’s chemistry lab in your house.”
I swallow. Fuck, why is it suddenly hard to breathe?
“Yes,” I find myself saying. “Yes, I did steal it.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, her brows furrowed. “To sell it?”
Frustration suddenly tears through my soul, and something snaps inside me. “Sell it?” A cold laugh rips from my lungs. “Is that what you think?”
“What else would it be?”
“I needed the equipment so that I could practice for the final exam!”
She jerks back in shock. “What?”
Raking a hand through my hair, I shake my head as years of pent-up pressure and exhaustion washes over me. “I had gotten a scholarship for the engineering program here, but I needed to keep up my grades. I needed an A in chemistry, and I was barely keeping it. All the other courses, I could study for with books in the library. But the final exam in that class was a practical lab experiment. Which I couldn’t practice for without the actual equipment.” Another humorless laugh rips from my chest. “So I stole a set of equipment so that I could use it to study.”
Her mouth is slightly open as she stares at me with wide eyes. “You… You stole it so that you could… study?”
“Yeah.”
“God, I didn’t… I didn’t realize…” Sorrow and empathy shine in her eyes as she looks at me. “Living like that, you must have felt so trapped.”
Pain stabs straight through my heart. It’s so intense that I think I actually flinch. How could she have known that? How could she possibly have known that that was how I felt? Not angry. Not sad. Trapped . She knows that I felt trapped . How is that even possible?
The emotions inside me turn into a twisting nest of pain and panic and anger. Letting out a harsh breath, I shake my head and stalk over to where the knife is lying on the floor next to the desk. After snatching it up, I shift both utensils into one hand and then turn to face Elle again.
“Yeah,” I reply, bitterness coating my voice. “And yet, you still decided to rat me out.”
She flinches. Then desperation washes over her features. “That’s not what I… I didn’t mean to…” A miserable breath escapes her as she looks at me with those big sad eyes. “When the police officers came to our school, they called me in because the teachers knew that I had been outside, waiting for my dad when it happened. So they asked me if I had seen anyone leave the science building around that time too. And well, I told them that I saw you. Because I did. I did see you.” Her expression turns pleading. “But I didn’t know that you… I didn’t realize why you had stolen them and…”
She trails off. Swallowing, she watches me as I walk over to the nightstand and grab the empty plate from it. I say nothing. It feels as if strangling vines twist inside my chest.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
The words are a stab right into my heart. Because I can tell that she means it. She isn’t saying that because she’s hoping that it will make me release her. She actually means it. She truly is sorry.
Anger crackles through me, drowning out the pain.
I don’t care if she’s sorry. She still ruined my life. One careless sentence from her destroyed my future. Nothing else matters.
Straightening, I turn to face her again. She looks absolutely miserable. It only makes me angrier. She has no right to feel miserable. I’m the one who’s miserable.
Gripping the plate and utensils hard, I level a merciless stare on her. And when I speak, my voice is cold and bitter.
“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t change anything, sweetheart.”