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“A metaphorical cage. But sometimes it felt as if the walls of my room were surrounded by steel bars. As if, if I breeched the outside world, an electric shock collar would be triggered and rip through me.” She shrugs. “I got to go to school but a social life was out of the question. Dad, he didn’t…” she trails off, not finishing the sentence as I work the anger down my throat.
“I understand what you mean,” Amiyah says softly, pushing Primrose’s hair that got stuck to the mask back from her forehead. “My dad is old-fashion to a fault. As if the nineteen hundreds aren’t in the past. But hey,” she smiles, “we regrew our clipped wings, we’re free, and that’s all that matters. No living in the past.”
I smile, my hand tangling with Prim’s as her eyes well up before she shuts it off like a light. The fact that she can turn off her emotions so quickly hurts my soul, but I push it away—for now.
I rise, swaying my body around to the beat of the music, hoping to brighten Prim’s mood with a dance party. Amiyah grins, standing and joining in. Prim watches as if we’re crazy before she rolls her eyes. She stands and joins us. All of us laughing as we dance around the room like we’re twelve again. Three songs pass and I remember why I originally wanted to come here. Even if it does leave a sour taste in my mouth to do so now.
“Hey, is it okay if I step out to go call my aunt Beth?” I ask Amiyah, and she nods.
“Free rein of the house. Go for it. Just be cautious around dark corners.”
“Why?” I frown.
A grin stretches over her face. “I hear it’s rabbit season.” She winks.
Prim giggles and I roll my eyes. He better be able to take a punch if he scares me. I’ll knock his ass out.
I close the door behind me, walking down the long hallway. I lean my ear against the door next to Amiyah’s, listening. I hear Madden talking to someone on the phone. Quickly tiptoeing to the next one, I frown. I hear Vance’s deep voice speaking harshly in French. As if he isn’t fluent in the language, or maybe he’s just angry. Sneaking to the room across the hall, I press my ear against the door and listen. No sound comes from the other side. I look down the hallway to make sure it’s clear and quickly duck inside. His scent hits me first, the clean woodsy smell that has me closing my eyes. His room is impersonal. Plain black sheets and window drapes. Not a single piece of clothing or shoe in sight. Like a staged room for someone who is wanting to sell a home. It’s boring, and the lack of life in here makes me uncomfortable.
I walk to his desk, quickly opening drawers and snooping through them. My hand brushes over a weak spot in one. Pausing, I reach to the back of the drawer, finding a space big enough to slip two fingers into. I do, raising the false bottom. My eyes latch onto the sketches, the photorealism of… me. The detail in the lines and shading so intricate, so mind-blowing, at first I think it may be an actual photo. The different shades in my eyes, the placement of my freckles that spread across my nose, along my cheeks, and on my forehead. The highlight on my small button nose, and the way my face contorts into a scowl. He drew this from memory. This isn’t a pose from art class.
I do something irrational. Something so stupid I will probably regret it later. I shove the picture into my shirt. Why? Because it’s the most exquisite thing I have ever seen. Because he, the homicidal psychopath, drew me so breathtakingly beautiful. And no one has ever looked at me the way he does.
“Beckett,” Devlin yells from outside the door.
“Shit,” I whisper, placing the false bottom back, throwing the papers back on top quickly and shutting the drawer. I look around frantically, every horror movie scenario playing in my head. Closet? First place they look. Under the desk? The chair is across the room. He may notice.
I glare at the bed. No, that’s how that girl inTakengot snatched. And I have no badass dad to save me. But what choice do I have? “Fuck it,” I murmur, diving under the giant bed.
The door opens, Vance’s voice filtering through. “Fuck off, Devlin. I have emotions I need to work out with Beckett.”
“You don’t feel emotions,” Devlin deadpans.
“Exactly my problem.”
The door shuts and I hear a deep sigh. “Thanks,” Beckett says.
“Nothing is free, you owe me.” Vance chuckles.
“Noted. Now, these emotions?” Beckett asks.
“She’s three doors away.” Vance groans.
Primrose. I’ll lock our doors tonight. His obsessive stalker behavior is a lot to deal with. Not sure why I didn’t think of that before coming over.
“She’s too fragile for you. One touch and she’ll crumble like dust between your fingers,” Beckett says, the bed shifting under the weight of whoever just sat on it.
“I know, but fuck, I want her.”
“Why don’t we go out for a bit? Get your mind off her?”
There’s a long pause, seconds turning into a minute. It has me on high alert. The silence too thick, suffocating. “All right.”
I hear their footsteps, the door shutting closed. I sigh in relief. My head falling to the floor as I calm my racing heartbeat. Something strong wraps around my ankle, jerking me as I try to dig my nails into the ground to stop myself from being pulled out. A scream catches in my throat.
“Silly rabbit. Only stupid animals get stuck in a trap.”
9
