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But then I remember that I’m in a small space with them and that there’s nowhere to run if I piss Nate off.
The elevator dings on the Penthouse floor after Nate punches in a code. The doors separate and we’re met with darkness. I step out, looking left to right, searching for anything in Bishop’s flashy apartment.
“There’s no one here!” I state the obvious. “Hell—” I turn around, but they’ve all disappeared, the elevator door now securely closed.
I don’t like fear. In fact, fear makes me violent. If someone was to sneak up on me, I am not responsible for what happens to their face. OR their dick, for that matter.
“Really?” I roll my eyes, entering the vast space farther. The moonlight is the only form of vision, beaconing through the large floor to ceiling windows that are in the lounge room. You have to take a couple of steps down to get in there. I turn to the left, to see—nothing.
Okay. I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling. I will bite. A little.
“What do you guys want?” I keep my eyes closed, afraid that if I open them, I’m going to see my life flash before my eyes.
“Sorry it had to be like this, Tillie, but we can’t do this same song and dance any longer. We’ve waited, fucking god we have waited…” Nate says, and I spin around to catch his voice, but I’m met with nothingness again.
“What do you mean!”
“Little terror, wake up….” Brantley’s voice teases, bouncing off the walls.
“I can’t, Bran Bran!” I yell, squeezing my fingers. “I’m not dreaming!”
A hood is shoved over my face, blacking out my vision completely. “What the fuck!”
Handcuffs are clamped to the back of my body and I twist and turn, trying to get out of whoever’s grip is behind me.
“Move forward, baby.” Nate’s voice caresses the back of my neck.
I fight the urge to kick back. “I don’t like games…”
He thrusts me forward as I hear the elevator ding, and then I’m shoved forward again, another hand clamped around my upper arm, the one that’s holding onto Daemon’s book. The lights from the elevator filters through the material of the sack over my head.
My breathing thickens. “This is a little dramatic,” I deadpan, allowing my fake confidence to erupt in the middle of the small elevator.
Nate chuckles. “I’m done, Tillie.”
Done? What does he mean done? We were never together. The doors ding open again and I’m being dragged back into the parking lot. There’s a car idling near us and I feel them all freeze. The car sounds rich, the smooth rumble of an expensive engine.
More silence.
“You guys talking behind my back?” I tease. I really shouldn’t. I’m in no position to torment them right now.
Doors slam shut before the car skids off, the tires tearing up the asphalt.
“Move, baby.” Nate shoves me into the back of Brantley’s car and we’re off.
We’re driving for twenty minutes before we slow down, the car turning around sharp little corners.
The car stops, and I’m being yanked out. If I wasn’t wearing Nate’s hoodie, which by the way, is doing sweet fuck all to comfort me right now, I would be freezing my ass off.
A lighter flame flicks in front of my face, sifting through the mesh. It’s Nate, smirking at me. “Say her name, Tillie.”
“What?” I yank my head back. “What are you talking about?”
The light disappears. “Our daughter died.”
“Stop it, Nate.”
The lighter flicks on again. “She died, Tillie. It broke me in half, and she took that half to the grave with her. But listen to me, Tillie. She’s gone.”
“Stop it…” I warn, my eyes slamming shut.
I need Daemon. Why did I do this? The first thing I’m doing when I get back is taking him and I back to Perdita. It’s not bad there. At least I’ll be away from monsters that lurk in the dark.
“Say it, baby.”
“No!” I snap, my eyes slamming shut again.
“Why are you holding Daemon’s book?” Nate asks. Is he circling me? Is it just us here? Why is no one else speaking? I feel drops of water pelt down gently on my head through the rag.
“Because you told me to bring it!”
“Did you find what you needed?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No…”
“Say her name…” Nate mutters again.
“Nate, please,” I plead, my shoulders shaking. “I don’t want to. Don’t you understand?”
“I assure you, I do, but say her name. You never say her name out loud. Say it.”
“Bro…” Brantley’s voice cuts in, but he stops.
“Say it, Tillie!” Tears stream down my face, my knees weak. “She’s gone. You did what you could, this wasn’t your fault!”
“It was!” I snap, screaming at him. “It was my fault! I didn’t lock the door, I was the last person to see her, I took her to bed, I read her her last fucking book!” The sobs are unleashed, now my chest is jerking. I fall to my knees, curling over my thighs. “I killed her. I did it. It’s all my fault.”
