65. When World’s Collide
When World’s Collide
Why white?
Kate stared at the ceiling, the walls, the marble of the kitchen. All white. Even the dog currently perched elegantly on the couch, pressed against her thigh, was white as fresh snow. Makes one wonder.
Beep, beep.
For all she knew, it was to balance out the darkness of his actions. Dark versus light and all that. He was a cleaning freak too, that much she’d gleaned from the man of the house. Wait, did he suffer from germophobia?
God, I’m rambling.
Everything was good enough to shield herself from other, darker thoughts that would shove her straight down the edge of a cliff.
And then there was… freedom. She wondered what that would even look like.
Holidays with Lucien? A blanket tossed on the soft white sand of some far-off island.
They would what, kiss? Tell each other those three words like every other couple did?
Psss. One kiss had sent her brain into a sprawling fantasy world.
But that fantasy was… what kept her sane, if for the moment.
She folded her legs beneath herself, goosebumps raising over her skin. It was almost as if the house grew colder with every passing second.
Beep, beep.
Huh?
Ghost’s ears perked up toward the front door. The wolf-dog jumped off the couch, landing on soft paws before going to stand by the front door with his head tilted.
Kate pushed up from the couch as well, a stone weighing on her stomach as she crossed the living room into the kitchen. Reaching out to pick up the phone she’d discarded earlier, her fingers grazed the thick casing before something barrelled into her. Ghost.
Her knees bumped into the kitchen counter while his anxious whine assaulted her ears. “Jesus, Ghost!” Her irritation faded quickly, seeing the hairs of his neck standing upright. She bent down on her haunches behind the counter, smoothing down his fur. “What’s wrong, little guy?”
“Honey, I’m homeeee.”
Kate froze. That ice-cold voice could only belong to one person.
Ghost stayed next to her, the skin above his wide-stretched eyes wrinkled in panic. Her heart leapt up in her throat, telling her to move, do something. But what? Go for a gun? Lucien doesn’t keep one in the house.
A knife. She pushed up from the floor, staying low to crawl over to the bamboo knife stand near the stove. Her hand reached for the stand, the marble cold beneath her forearm when…
“Max… to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Her fingers stilled. Lucien, so close by.
Had he lied to her? Used her as bait to lure Max out? Had spent all that time lying in wait in the forest?
“Set foot in that house and you are a dead man walking.” No. His voice came from the front door. The camera. He wouldn’t be threatening the man in front of her door, he’d have fired a round through his heart the second he’d laid eyes on him.
She pressed up into view, faintly making out a conversation between the two killers. Could hear Lucien try and persuade Max to stay outside the house. But they all knew, he wouldn’t be back soon enough.
Max had all the time in the world to make her regret her survival.
Kate shoved the smallest blade into her ankle-high house shoes, the ones Lucien had gifted her weeks ago. Bamboo met her trembling fingers when she drew the biggest knife. It won’t do me any good. Lucien already showed me that.
But what else could she do? Bring her fists into a fight that would almost certainly involve a gun?
Bang! The door shook in its hinges from the force Max was inflicting on it. Setting flame to her already roaring adrenaline.
“I will enjoy this one.” The glee in Max’s tone was overwhelming. Sending the blood rushing through her ears. Bang! She scrambled back to her position behind the counter with the sharp weapon clutched in her grip. Alone. I’m on my own.
“Kate. Whatever you do, don’t panic.” Her head snapped up, focusing on the camera trained on her.
“Lucien, I-I don’t know what to do.” Fear coated her voice, her shaking limbs, her entire being.
He sounded as calm as always, but in the background the engine roared. Back, he was making his way back here like the devil was on his heels.
Bang!
Half of his sentence was swallowed by the racket “—you’ve trained for this, you can do this. I believe in you. But use your fists, not a knife. He will use it against you.” He kept rattling on, sharing what he could in the time they had left. “Ghost will leap towards the door the second it opens.”
“But he will… die.” She furiously blinked back the tears. Ghost had heard Lucien, charging up to stand near the door. His posture said it all. No one would come through it alive.
Bang!
“Don’t worry about him. When he does his thing, I want you to…” He trailed off, looking for what she could do.
“There is nothing I can do, is there?” Her trembling voice evened out, and she steeled herself.
“Kate, think back to the moment when we met. Untrained, poisoned, barely standing on your legs. You gave me the fight of my life. Max is nowhere near my level.” She heard the forced humor in his tone. “You can survive this.”
Survive. It was all she’d been doing.
Her eyes closed. Bang! The door trembled. Through, he was almost through.
In and out, in and out. The knife slipped out of her hands and clattered over the floor.
Fear. Desperation. She thought of the overwhelming emotions that had run through her during her fight with Lucien.
But there was something more now. A willingness not only to survive, but to live.
To visit that far-off beach, to laugh her head off with Lucien’s cocky jokes, to slap him over the arm.
To feel his steady weight and warmth at her back, comforting her when the nightmares inevitably visited.
“Lucien.” She bit in her lip, resolve taking over. “I love you.” Pressing up from the floor, she straightened and jerked her chin up in the air. The way she knew would make him smile.
It was better to face her end standing than to die on her knees.
“I know now, I would have given everything to see the rest of this world with you.” Her voice threatened to break, but she would not allow it.
“Thank you… for everything. For showing me the Northern Lights, for that chocolate cake and the blanket on the snow.” She laughed softly.
“For wiping the floor with me. You’ve given me so many good memories to hang on to. ”
“Sweetheart…” She heard the desperation seep into the endearment.
Watch, he was forced to watch, and she would not falter.
But if she lost the fight, she needed him to know.
The man who had been the villain in her book was now the one who had promised her freedom, maybe even more.
And she… would face whatever waited behind that door.
Because she, Kate Withers, deserved a future where freedom wasn’t a reward but a given.
Another bang rocked through the house, what lay behind threatening to break through the barrier of her world.
Kate raised her chin to the camera for the last time. Picturing the way he’d be looking at her, pride and grief wrestling on his handsome face. His green depths alight with admiration.
“Fight like hell.” Was all he told her.
“Oii.” She sent a wink to the camera. “Aren’t you going to say it back?”
“No need.” Bang! “I’ll do so tonight, when I clean the blood off your hands—”
The door crashed against the wall and a shadow crawled over the concrete. Max was here.
I am here, I am ready and I will not give up.