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I will make it clear to her that I will not tolerate this kind of misbehavior in my household.
Even as I glare at the footage of her running across the grass, I can’t help but smile. She’s got some spirit to even attempt to escape.
I run after her. She’ll never get away. She might climb the wall or squeeze through the front gate but there’s nowhere out there for miles but wilderness. I’ll easily track her down and bring her back. Then me and her will have a conversation about obeying the rules. I’ll make it clear what will happen if she continues to fight me.
I spot her in the distance. She’s nearly at the gate. There’s a car on the other side. Who the hell does that belong to? A figure is getting out of it.
He’s too far away for me to make out who I’m looking at, but all my instincts tell me something very clearly. If it’s who I think it is, this is not good.
I put on a fresh burst of speed. The only question now is who will reach her first, me or the hitman on the far side of the gate?
Eighteen
Anna
* * *
Itried to do the right thing. I gave him back the stupid toy. The way he reacted was totally uncalled for. Sure, I shouldn’t have been in the attic and I shouldn’t have pocketed it. But if he’d used his words like a grownup and told me why he wanted me to stay out of there, of course I would have been more respectful.
It’s academic anyway. I’m not staying here to be yelled at. I’m not thinking about where I’m going to go, I’m only thinking about getting away from the house and from him.
When I’m in there, it’s like there’s some weird spell over me. I find myself attracted to him beyond words, despite how he’s acting. Now I’m outside, the spell’s broken and I can see him for who he really is. A monster.
He’s not a beast going to be turned back into a prince at the end of the story. He’s just a bastard. Using me to get revenge on my father. He doesn’t care about me at all. I’m better off without him. I’m better off with no one.
My method of escape was simple enough. When he yelled at me like that, I knew I had to leave. I couldn’t stay any longer. I waited until he disappeared upstairs, then I broke the window in the dining room. I knew he’d come running back down quickly.
I had just enough time to hide between the heavy velvet curtains that ran from ceiling to floor on either side of the back door. I held my breath when I heard him coming back downstairs.
The rest was textbook. He ran out of the back door, leaving it open just long enough for me to slip out after him. He headed straight around to the dining room.
I ran the other way, heading for the gate that separated his grounds from the wilderness and forest beyond.
I’m still running through the wet grass, fearing that he might come after me at any moment. Once I get into the trees, I’ll have a chance of hiding. After that, I’ll work out what to do next. For now, all that matters is getting away. I can’t fall under his spell again. It’ll destroy me. Nothing that intense can ever be a good thing.
When I spot the gate, I angle toward it, slowing down as a car comes to a stop on the far side. It’s a sleek black vehicle, and the driver gets out, waving at me. “Come here,” he shouts. “Where’s Marco?”
“Looking for me,” I say, skidding to a halt in front of the gate. “Who are you?”
“Your father sent me. I’m here to take you home.”
“My father?” I look at the man in front of me. He’s smiling but the warmth hasn’t reached his eyes. He’s wearing a black suit, cheaper than Marco’s, more ill fitting. His hair is slicked back with grease and his grin is getting wider. “Climb over,” he says. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“I’m not going to my father,” I say, turning away and running along the length of the wall. The guy shouts after me and at the same time, I hear another voice. I look to my left. It’s Marco. He’s sprinting down the slope toward me, reaching inside his jacket as he comes.
I’m trapped between the two men. I glance behind me. The one by the gate is climbing over, jumping down to the grass. I put on a fresh burst of speed, no idea where I’m going.
“Stop,” the guy shouts. “I’m here to help you.”
“My father helped no one but himself,” I shout back, my breath running out too quickly.
Marco is getting closer, but as I look, he’s stopping dead. He’s no longer looking at me. He’s got his gun out and he’s pointing it at the other guy.
I slow and stop. It’s a standoff. They’re pointing their guns at each other. I appear to have been momentarily forgotten.
“Been a while, Theo,” Marco says, no warmth to his voice.
Hand her over and no one has to die,” Theo shouts back.
