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“It’s a fantasy romance,” I tell him. “About a court jester and a princess who fall in love.”
He laughs coldly. “Is that how you’ve been spending your time, dear niece? That sounds very childish.”
I bite down, warning myself not to react to his taunting. This is the way it always is with him, countless insults flung at me which I’m expected to meekly take.
Which I do meekly take because let’s face it, I don’t really have a choice.
I shrug. “It is. It’s silly. So I guess there’s no harm in submitting it, then?”
He sighs and leans forward, his eyes turning hard. “You know the answer to that, Ruby. And don’t give me that naive puppy-dog look. I can’t let you traipse around, publishing books, because you’re smarter than you seem. You’ve hidden a message in that book somewhere. I’d bet my life on it.”
I want to tell him his life is meaningless, so bet away.
But I know that if I openly challenge him, he might graduate from kidnapping to something else.
Uncle Aaron is a vicious man.
So far he hasn’t turned his sadism on me.
But he could.
Easily.
I swallow down my protests and nod.
“Okay, Uncle Aaron. I just thought I’d ask.”
“It was a stupid question,” he says dismissively. “And you know it was a stupid question? Now, was there anything else?”
Rage boils up inside of me, moving through me like acid, eating away at my self-restraint. I want to leap out of my chair and scream at him, roar at him for killing my dad and keeping me prisoner and turning my life into a monotonous hell.
Which is maybe better than other kinds of hells, but I still hate it.
“Okay, uncle,” I say, standing. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”
I leave the office calmly, nerves making my chest tighten, my heartbeat thud against my ribcage.
It’s time for plan B.
It’s time to run away.
Before my dad died, he sat me down one evening with a stern look on his face. I think he knew something bad was going to happen to him. Aaron had distanced himself and the Cartel was making their presence known in the city.
I can still see the way he stared at me, his soft eyes turned hard, his hands clasped on the table.
“If you ever need to go to the police,” he told me, “you seek out a man, Rider Rawson. He’s the best cop in this city. He knows how to handle complex situations. If you ever find yourself in a position where you need help, do not go to the police. You hear me? Don’t even dream of it. The Cartel will have contacts with them.”
His voice deepened in a way I’d never heard before, his tone compelling.
“I understand,” I murmured, too young to truly take his words to heart.
I thought he was going to be around forever.
I was so freaking naive.
“This is his address.” He slid a piece of paper across the table. “Hide this, Ruby. Do you understand? Nobody can ever see it.”
I’d kept his address folded up in a paperback stored under my bed for three years. I’d rarely given it any thought, falling instead into reading and writing, a way to escape Aaron and his crap.
But then I figured out a way to escape, or at least a chance.
A few weeks ago the safe alarm went off and Aaron ordered all the guards – even the ones at the gates – to rush into the house.
It’s the sort of paranoid thing he does. He’s terrified of somebody sneaking in here and stealing his traitor’s money.
It turned out it was a false alarm caused by a minor earthquake that trembled through the house. But it gave me an idea.
Set off the alarm, sneak out, and head for the nearest exit, about a thirty-second window. Slip into the nearby forest and walk north, and keep walking north until I meet the road. Then I’ll find my way into the city and to Rider Rawson’s apartment if he still lives there.
And then what?
I don’t know.
But I have to try something.
I take a sip of my coffee and then lay the cup on the table, glancing at my bag near the door. I’ve only packed what I need – my laptop, my writing materials, the copy of Harry Potter Dad gave me when I was a kid, and of course some clothes – but it still looks heavy.
I swallow down my nerves, pick up the ceramic cup, and aim it at the safe.
“Fuck you, Aaron,” I whisper.
I let it fly.
It smashes against the safe loudly, and then, a moment later, the blaring alarm cuts through the house.
I grab my bag.
Chapter Two
Rider
Alex Garcia – my partner in the police for the last decade – laughs down the phone. I smirk as I stand at the window, looking down upon the city, as the sun reaches its zenith, glittering over the buildings and across the sea. The bridges leading out to the countryside, to the large estates of the elite.
