Page 31 of Coal Hearts

“No, it didn’t.” Henri lowered his jaw. “It shattered the day I was born.” Stalking toward the silver tray on the bar holding a row of crystal liquor bottles, he added, “I’ve just been fighting it for so long, I can’t decide if I’m capable of embracing what I truly want or if I should get as far the fuck away from you as possible.”

A cold edge filled the room.

The older man shifted and looked at Henri with a bit more respect. He studied him the same way he’d studied me: devious and manipulative, plotting things I couldn’t fathom.

The guy beside the older one, with his pressed suit and large belly, finished his drink and clapped his hands. “So...Henri completed your task, Victor. Now what?”

Henri splashed alcohol into a tumbler and shot it back. He did it again, gulping down booze as if it had the power to erase whatever was about to happen.

Time to go, Ily.

I reached for my cellphone tucked into my skirt waistband.

I needed to call the police.

I need to get the hell out of here.

Withdrawing my phone, I flinched as a hundred reflections in the mirrors did the same thing.

I wobbled as I turned to the door behind me. My heels sank into the ruby carpet, my hand outstretched for a lifeline that would save me. My right hand grasped the handle all while my left thumb flew over my keypad, calling the emergency number.

A rustle of motion behind me. A masculine curse.

I didn’t turn to look. I yanked on the door and—

It didn’t budge.

Panic.

Panic so hot, so thick, so suffocating, I couldn’t breathe.

Come on.

Come on!

I tried again. And again. Pulling, pushing, jerking on the handle.

It stayed stubbornly shut.

Breathing hard, fighting the shaking of my bones, I glanced at my phone. The emergency number wouldn’t connect—the signal just kept whirling, whirling searching for service.

This can’t be happening.

Please!

“As you can clearly see, the door is locked,” the older guy murmured almost apologetically behind me. The splash of liquid on crystal revealed Henri had poured himself another drink.

Fighting every instinct to bolt, I clung to bravery and turned to face the three men.

Henri refused to meet my eyes, glowering into his glass. His entire demeanour bellowed with regret but also savage desperation.

“Your phone is useless too.” The older man slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small black device. “This little thing will scramble any signal within a twenty-metre radius.” He smiled with a half-hearted shrug. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the moment you stepped into this room, you handed over your life...to me.”

“Open the door. Right now.”

“No.” He smiled. “And be careful how you talk to me, girl. You do not want to see me angry.”

“Angry?” I bared my teeth. “I’m the one who’s angry. You have no right. No right to hold me against my will. Let me the hell out.”