Chapter 14 #2
“Walk through the guests, Ella.” Deputy Garron’s calm voice crackles softly through the hidden earpiece nestled beneath my blond hair.
“Let him find you. If you hide, he won’t approach.
We need to keep this as efficient as possible and minimize casualties.
” Casualties. The word echoes inside my skull.
Of course. This is not only about me. I draw a slow breath through my nose before forcing my feet to move, reminding myself to smile, nod, pretend, and keep walking.
I murmur silent greetings to strangers, accepting polite smiles as I move through clusters of conversations that dissolve into white noise.
Every few seconds, my eyes betray me by drifting toward the entrance despite every promise I made myself not to look.
I catch only glimpses of Tristan between shoulders and evening gowns.
His mother, magnificent in a dark, bloody red.
Nate beside him. Tristan greeting guests with effortless composure, almost. Because I know where to look.
His foot taps beneath the tablecloth covering the registration desk, invisible unless someone happens to glance downward.
The muscle in his jaw tightens every few seconds.
He adjusts his cuff, then adjusts it again.
My man, trying so desperately to appear calm while every instinct inside him is probably screaming to come and stand beside me.
I love you, I wish he could hear me say.
“And who do we have here?” A voice drifts against my ear like poison poured into honey. Every muscle in my body seizes, and before I even turn, the smell reaches me. That same metallic aftershave crawls into my lungs until suddenly I am not standing beneath chandeliers anymore.
Concrete. Darkness. Chains. Shower hose. Shouting. Barking. Repeat. My fingers shoot instinctively toward the emergency necklace hidden beneath my bodice. No. Too soon. Not yet.
“Keep calm,” Deputy Garron says through the earpiece.
“You’re doing well.” They are watching. I am not alone.
It’s different this time. I am not trapped in a basement with nowhere to run, and I am not helpless anymore.
I repeat the words until they almost sound believable.
I am in control. A lie, maybe, but a necessary one, because sometimes bravery is not the absence of fear.
It is simply refusing to let terror drive your decisions.
Across the ballroom, Tristan’s head snaps toward me so abruptly my heart lurches.
He finds me instantly. Of course he does.
His eyes meet mine for barely a fraction of a second before I force myself to look away.
Don’t let Cole see. Don’t let him uncover how deeply we are woven into each other, so deeply they would have to bury us side by side if tonight goes wrong.
“Blonde suits you.” Cole’s voice is almost pleasant.
Anyone listening would mistake us for old acquaintances exchanging harmless conversation.
I turn toward him, sweat gathering in my palms. He’s wearing a white tuxedo with a red mask, the color of the devil, which suits him well since he’s the personification of evil.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, darling,” he coos with a soft chuckle.
“Turns out you’ve been hiding at his place all along.
” Ice floods my veins. How much has he figured out?
“I knew they’d disguise you,” he continues.
“To think they actually believed I wouldn’t recognize my bird…
” He laughs, then trails off. “Fools.” Coles takes the champagne flute from my hand and sets it on a nearby tray.
“Not only have I spent the evening speaking with several investors who don’t mind getting their hands dirty and moving their business away from your boyfriend…
” His eyes sweep slowly over me. “I also intend to leave tonight with a prize.” The back of his fingers skims across my cheek with unbearable familiarity, and my stomach lurches.
“We’ll do things differently this time.” For one horrifying second, I am not wearing silk beneath crystal chandeliers.
I’m sitting, barely dressed, beneath fluorescent lighting while he orders me to eat with my hands, dried blood still tangled in my hair. I fight the urge to gag.
Somewhere across the ballroom, Tristan’s gaze burns into the side of my face.
“So here’s what’s going to happen.” His smile never wavers, fake enough that anyone watching us would mistake us for lovers whispering secrets in the middle of a masquerade.
“I’m going to take your hand, and without a fight, you’re gonna follow me, because, you see Ella, I’ve got a nine-millimeter sitting comfortably in my holster right now, and if you do something foolish, like trying to run, I’ll blow this lovely little head of yours off your shoulders before your boyfriend even realizes what’s happening.
” Something inside me shuts down. Completely.
It is as though every door inside my mind slams shut at once, each one locking behind the other until I am standing somewhere deep inside myself, pounding against walls that refuse to open while my body remains outside, perfectly still, obedient, breathing because lungs apparently remember how to do their job even when the rest of me has forgotten. What is happening? What about the plan?
First, the music dissolves. Violins were floating through the ballroom only seconds ago, but now they disappear beneath a low vibration that grows louder in my ears until it resembles an ancient chant carried by a thousand unseen voices.
Suddenly, the ballroom no longer exists as crystal and silk and expensive perfume, but as blurred colors bleeding into one another while faces lose their features and become moving shapes I no longer recognize.
His hand closes around mine. My gut makes a double spin.
My fingers fold around him almost automatically as I shut down.
“You’re doing so well, darling.” His breath brushes the shell of my ear, carrying with it that same dusty aftershave that has seeped into every nightmare I have had since escaping, and revulsion tears through me with such violence that I suddenly want to sink my teeth into his face.
Not to defend myself but to hurt him, to feel cartilage beneath my jaw until he finally understands what it means to be trapped inside a body that no longer belongs to you.
The thought horrifies me almost as much as he does. What is happening to me?
Every emotion crashes against another until I no longer know which one belongs to the woman I am and which one belongs to the girl who learned to survive underground.
One part of me wants to wrench my hand free and run until my lungs burst, while another whispers that following him is easier, that resisting only delays the inevitable, that perhaps if I am good enough, he will leave me alone afterward.
Somewhere beneath those two strangers is the real me, clawing desperately at the surface, begging to be let back inside her own life.
“Stay calm, Ella.”
Tristan.
The second he says my name, something catches inside my chest and pulls so sharply that I almost stumble.
I turn instinctively, searching for him, but the crowd swallows every familiar face as Cole guides me away from the ballroom and toward the opposite corridor, the one we are not supposed to take, the one that is not in the plan.
Panic begins spreading through me again because I am supposed to be leading him, to have some small illusion of control.
How na?ve I was to believe a man like Cole would ever let anyone else hold the board.
“I’m right here,” Tristan murmurs, his voice so confident and calm that it feels impossible.
“I’ve got my eyes on you. I know this isn’t the plan anymore, sweetheart…
We’re-we’re adapting. All you need to do is keep breathing.
I got you, baby. I see you. You’re safe, you’re okay.
” I cling to his voice like a lifeline. I cling to evenings spent reading beside each other in silence, to ridiculous chess lessons that end up in hugs and uncharted territories, to brand new books carefully placed on his library shelves because he wanted me to have something that belonged entirely to me before I even decided whether I wanted to stay.
I cling to all of it because my mind is slipping.
And right now, only Tristan can save it for me.
“I love you, sweetheart.” His voice cracks so softly it almost disappears.
“You’re doing so well. Picture us at home later.
Picture the mug you like, you know, the yellow one with a butterfly on it, picture the books I bought for you, that terrible science-fiction series you said you would only read because I recommended it?
Picture us there, because that’s where we’re going after this.
I know it sucks, and I know it’s fucking terrifying, but I’ve got you.
You’re not alone anymore, Ella. You’re never alone anymore.
Don’t- don’t let him take your mind away.
” My throat tightens until swallowing hurts, and I manage the smallest shake of my head, knowing he can see me somewhere beyond the sea of masked strangers.
I love you, I wish I could say back. Desperate times call for desperate measures. If things had been different… I wish I had told him face to face. Instead, using my free hand, I fold my middle and ring fingers into my palm, leaving my thumb, index finger, and pinky extended.
I love you.
I can only hope he sees it on the camera.
“Me too, sweetheart.” His voice cracks. “Me too.” I blink hard, my heart catching. I can do this. Focus, Ella. Focus.