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I gaze at the hospital as the cab comes to a stop in front of a red light. When my gaze rises to the top floor, where a girl stands in the window, my heart momentarily stops beating.
Because it’s her.
The girl who haunts my every waking thought.
Jasmine.
Our eyes connect in blazing recognition, and in an instant, I feel all the love I once felt for her crushed into a single atom. And I fucking remember all the ways I wanted to make her mine, even when she did not want to be mine.
Her eyes are filled with shock and awe. And something else … fear.
Fear for what’s to come.
Fear for what I might do.
What I’m capable of.
And when I lift the key up from my neck and hold it up to the window, her jaw drops.
The light switches to green, and the cab begins to drive. Two seconds is all it takes for her face to disappear from my view.
But I know she saw me … And we both know there is no going back now.
One day, I will claim what’s mine.
And she will offer it to me out of her own free will.
Jasmine
* * *
After saying goodbye to Jill and Luca, I rush home as fast as I can and run to the yard behind our house, scooping up the freshly dug ground with my bare hands until I hit the hard wood. With dirt-ridden fingers, I lift out the old box. The one I’d been hiding for years. The one only two people know about. Myself … and Liam.
Because that key he held up in front of the car window wasn’t just any key.
It was one of two keys that opened this tiny box.
With shaky hands, I fish my own keys from my pocket and search until I find the one, prodding it into the lock that opens with ease.
Inside are small papers.
Promises we made to each other.
Promises we intended to keep.
An old one from five years ago reads: ‘If our parents force us to marry, we’ll be kind to each other.’
Beneath that are our thumbprints in blood.
I remember signing this, blissfully unaware of how fate would twist us in a direction no one could ever imagine. Back when all of us believed Liam and I would be the ones to take over our parents’ companies as the eldest heirs.
I fish out another one that reads: ‘We will always let each other have what we want. No matter the cost.’
On the edge of the little paper is a muddy spot. A fingerprint.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.
Because beneath all the other tiny little papers filled with promises we once made is a new one. A torn paper etched with harsh lines made by pure blood.
