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"I can't let you leave, Morgan. It's not safe."
"How do I know you're safe?"
No sound comes from the other side of the door, almost to the point that I thought he had walked. "You'll just have to see that for yourself."
"The same can be said for you, too," I counter. "If you want me to trust you, you have to extend the same courtesy to me. Treating me like a prisoner and locking me in a bedroom isn't going to help that. It only makes me think you're no different from the others with your sinister plans for me."
Nothing happens for a few moments, but then the lock disengages. I pull the door handle, and it opens with ease, Trent standing on the other side.
"Don't make me regret this, Morgan," he says, a clear warning in his tone and his gaze.
I force a small smile on my lips to give him the illusion that I'm more calm. "Where's the trust, Trent? I thought we just agreed to trust each other," I muse.
He only stares at me, but he doesn't return my smile. He only turns and walks away in the opposite direction and leaves me standing there. And there it is, that professional, just-business demeanor I'd seen when we were at my house. I moveaway from the door with a sigh and go back to the bed, grabbing the plate of food and eating. While I understand where he's coming from, I'm still determined to leave. He can try to make himself out to be a hero all he wants but at the end of the day, he's also still one of the bad guys. Just because he has a change of heart doesn't make him any different from the three men who attacked my father and me.
Dad.I need to know if he's alright, if he needs to go to the hospital for his injuries, or even if he's arrived at the hotel. I make a mental note to call him as soon as I get somewhere safe to check on him.
When the house falls quiet, I poke my head out the door and look both ways down the hall. Trent's bedroom door is cracked, and everything leading out to the living room is dark. I slip back into my room and grab my shoes and phone before turning off the light and tiptoeing down the hall. My heart thunders in my chest as I take soft steps down the hall, almost expecting Trent to pop out from behind a picture frame to bust me.
I make it to the living room and release a long, soft breath. My heart beats so fast that I think I just may pass out before I even reach the door. The living room is pitch black aside from the sliver of light that filters in through the stained glass at the top of the front door. I look behind me just to make sure Trent's door hasn't budged, and then I slowly move forward. I use my hands to feel around me to make sure I don't bump anything, keeping my eyes on the moonlight streaming in.
"Almost," I whisper.
"But not quite."
I scream at the deep voice behind me, a pair of strong arms wrapping around me before I can even react. "No!"
I kick my legs and scream, trying to knock him off balance so that he'll drop me to give me a chance to make it. But his hold on me is too strong. He pulls me farther and farther away fromthe door, heading back down the hallway. I've watched plenty of movies to know what happens to the girl who tries to get away from her captor.
"Please, I'm sorry!" I cry as he pulls me down the hallway. "I was just scared! I won't do it again!"
"Morgan, relax," Trent coaxes. It's only the softness of his voice that calms me just a little. Instead of taking me back to the guest room, he puts me on my feet and leads me back to his bedroom. He closes and locks the door behind him and moves over to the bed, looking back at me when I don't follow. "Let's just try to get some sleep. It's been a long night."
"How do I know you won't hurt me?" I ask with a sniffle. It probably sounds pathetic, but after everything I've learned today, I can't even trust my own judgment. I'd believed this man was a twenty-three-year-old college junior who was majoring in tech. I'd thought he was normal, and I loved that he treated me like I was normal and didn’t try to use me like everyone else has in my life. To know that all of that was fake is still hard to process. I can't trust him enough to want to sleep next to him; I can't even trust myself right now.
He walks over to me and tries to take my hands into his, but I pull away. "I'd never hurt you, Morgan," he says, holding my gaze. "Ever."
"How do I know that?"
"Because if I wanted to truly hurt you, I could've done that from the start." He takes a step forward. "If I wanted to hurt you, I could've hurt you last night when you were at your most vulnerable." His hands flex as if he's going to reach out to touch me, but he thinks better of it, closing them into fists instead. "I know you're probably feeling blindsided and betrayed, but the one thing I can guarantee will always be true is the fact that I'll never ever hurt you."
I wipe away a stray tear and glance toward the bed. "Then I guess I'm going to bed," I murmur.
I get into bed and make sure to put enough distance between us. And as I lie there staring into the darkness, all I can hope is that this is all a bad dream and that I'll wake up from this nightmare in the morning.
If only things were really that easy.
13
TRENT
Ilook over at her for what feels like the hundredth time since we've been in bed. With everything that's happened up until now, I'm not surprised that she attempted to run. I want to comfort her, but I also don't know what to say. Her back is toward me, and she's nearly hanging off the bed, a clear sign that she wants to be nowhere near me. I reach out and brush my fingers along her arm, only for her to pull away from me.
"Don't touch me," she mumbles, scooting farther from me. I sigh softly into the darkness, turning my attention to the barely visible ceiling. So much has changed in the past twenty-four hours that it's given me emotional whiplash. Just hours ago, I dreaded having to tell her the truth because I knew this exact scenario would happen. I just didn't expect to have my hand forced in telling her so soon.
Soon enough, her soft snores fill the room when she finally falls asleep. I can't imagine everything going on in her head right now. It's not every day that you learn someone is plotting to have you killed. And it's definitely not every day that you encounter the very person who's been contracted to kill you. I think back to everything that happened at her house. Iremember the panic that coursed through me when I heard her screaming. The fear and shock on her face when she saw me will forever be ingrained in my memory. Even now, anytime she looks at me, it's that same shock and betrayal I saw at the house despite the fact that I only did that to help her. I can't be angry with her; she thought I was completely different from how I'd portrayed myself to her. Now, my biggest obstacle is getting her to trust me enough to allow me to help her make it through this alive.
Her warm body suddenly appears against me as she cuddles up, still asleep. I push the thoughts from my head and try to relax enough to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, hopefully one that can be a clean slate so we can work to get to the bottom of all of this. I wrap my arm around her and close my eyes, breathing in her flowery scent as I will my mind to settle down.
