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GENEVIEVE
When I wake up, Eric is gone and the bed is cold. I shiver as I roll over, sighing when I smell his tell-tale cologne. Closing my eyes, I just let myself feel my desire for them for a moment. The…trust.
Fuck, is that what the feeling racing through my body is?
I check it, thinking of them, and for the first time, I realise I’m not scared of them or what they might do. I’m not even angry. I’m just…here. I do trust them.
I’m an idiot, but they have kept all of their words. I know that shouldn’t mean much since they kidnapped me, but it’s clear it’s not the norm for them. Despite that, they have looked after me, which is more than I can say about my cheating bastard fiancé, so it’s obvious I can’t trust my own judgement when it comes to people. After all, I thought Chaz was a good person.
The person for me.
So, sayingfuck itto myself, I give into these feelings. I’m not going anywhere soon, so if you can’t beat them, join them. Forcing myself from the bed, I hurry to the bathroom, where I wash my face and brush my teeth with the little bag of stuff that was dropped off the other day without a word. There’s a brush and a bobble, so I quickly tame my hair and braid it, smoothing down the flyaway strands before putting on some lip balm and rolling my lips.
I have no makeup, but they don’t care, and I’m finding I don’t either. Where I live, however, I wouldn’t leave the house without it for fear of being branded sick-looking or pale. Shrugging at the freedom I have in this house, despite the clear lack of freedom, I wander downstairs in my pyjamas. It’s uncouth and crazy, but the world is a mad place, so why not just join in with the madness and enjoy it?
When I get downstairs, it’s quiet. I don’t see any of them. I hesitate briefly with my hand on the railing before I move slowly to the kitchen. There’s half-eaten breakfast on the table, the sausage and bacon left to grow cold on the old china. I guess I overslept. I still don’t see or hear anyone, but they have to be here. It doesn’t even click in my mind to try and escape until I’m pouring myself a cup of tea. By then, though, I hear car doors and shouting, so I scurry into the living room. Pulling my knees to my chest, I rest the mug there and wait for them.
Excitement fills me at the thought of seeing them, wondering what they will do today and what I’ll find out about them. Maybe Eric will cook and dance with me again. Maybe Booker and I could go for a walk and talk more about our trauma. I could even try to help Archer if he wants, I have a keen mind. And Gage? Well, my face flushes at what I want to do with him.
I force those thoughts away as I hear them come through the backdoor, stomping their boots to dislodge the mud that is inevitable in the country. Their voices lower, and when they freeze in the doorway, I smile warmly at them.
“Morning,” I greet, curling my hands tighter around the mug for warmth as my eyes drag down their bodies. Flicking my gaze back to theirs, I try to hide my blush and dirty thoughts.
Eric’s lips thin as he looks me over before he throws the others a glare and, without a word, storms upstairs. A moment later, a door slams, making me jump. I blink in bewilderment before looking at the others.
“What did I say?” I ask sadly, scooting to the edge to sit up and go after him.
“Stay there,” Archer demands, “or I will tie you up again. Do you understand?” he snaps, his voice cold and angry.
“What?” I question, my brow furrowed. I look between them in confusion. Booker’s fists and jaw are clenched as he stares at a point above my head. Gage gives me a glare as if he’s debating murdering me where I sit.
I shrink back under their fury, under their united front.
Fear winds through my hopeful heart.
I trust them, and I like them, but I don’t understand what’s happening. Why are they being like this? It’s just like when they first met me, not like the men I’ve gotten to know. These are cold thieves who are looking at me as if I’m the enemy here.
“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” Archer demands slowly, stepping towards me. He spits his next words, not stopping until he cages me against the chair, where I shrink, trying to escape the anger in his eyes. “You used Eric and hurt him. As soon as he let his guard down, you took advantage of him.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I whisper, unable to think past the panic as he curls his lip in disgust.
He leans closer, his lips meeting my ear, and my traitorous body shivers in lust, despite my terror. “You are a liar, Genevieve.” Standing back, he throws me a cold glance. “You phoned out. Luckily, we know the number, and I’m betting since you are still here, it didn’t go well.” I jerk, opening my lips to protest, but no words come out to defend myself. “I thought so. You are confined to your room. You will not be allowed near Eric again, do you understand me? You will remain silent and behave, or I will let Gage put a bullet in your pretty head like I should have the first day.” With that, he walks away.
He leaves me there with my hand pressed to my slamming heart. Fear and pain thread through me until it’s hard to breathe. They know. Worse, Eric is hurting, thinking I used him, but didn’t I?
He trusted me, was vulnerable with me, and I took advantage.
He had to expect it, right? I’m a prisoner here, so of course I want my freedom. It doesn’t matter how much I like them or want them, I can’t stop fighting. It’s just not in my nature to give up, but it seems that one mistake has cost me more than I could have ever imagined—their trust.
Now I’m back to being a prisoner, hated and unwanted, and that thought hurts more than my fiancé’s betrayal.
