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“Fake it until you make it. Allow them to see only what you want them to see. Then, when they aren't paying attention, destroy their whole fucking world.”
I did exactly as he said, using his own weapon against him, and even though the advice came from him, he still didn't see it coming.
It was the longest four months of my life, until Gunner and I got free, only leaving a few men alive to use in our favor. We barricaded them in the house, using their own drugs on them and when they woke up, I hooked explosives to bracelets around their ankles. I forced them to wear them the whole time. Any wrong move and either I or Gunner would blow them to pieces. After having to do it once, I never had to again. They did everything I said, helping me create the perfect illusion.
I took their world and made it mine and then dragged my Daddy into it. I'm not ready to let him free either. He will belong to me but I will never be his. Everything he does from now on will be because I want him to do it. He's my own little personal puppet and moves at each pull of my strings, all the while assuming he's making the decisions himself. They no longer belong to him and neither do his feelings, or emotions.
I smile in the mirror, another one coming way too easily as I think back to the term he gave it when we were in the basement.
“Stockholm syndrome.”
Nineteen
Everett
The loud ringing of my phone wakes me. I search around the room and I'm completely alone. The bed beside me is empty and Iggy's clothes on the floor are the only evidence he's been here. The phone continues to go off and I reach for it, answering without checking the screen.
“Hello?”
“Evan? Where are you?” Lennon's voice comes from the other end.
“Home. I just woke up from a nap, why?” I sit up against the headboard.
“I'm guessing you haven't seen the news then?”
“What is it?” I sit up straighter, more alert than before. “Ignacio?”
“No, the boy is fine. It's Montoya.”
“What about him?” I step onto the cold floor, searching for my underwear and pants.
“He escaped prison. I'm calling because he might be coming after you and your family soon.”
After not being able to find all my discarded clothes on the floor, I grab clean ones and quickly dress. Lennon stays on the line, talking about what took place in the prison, and all I can focus on is Iggy. Is he safe?
“I have to go,” I say, grabbing my jacket from the closet.
“What? Have you not been listening? Guards were hung by their guts inside Montoya's cell and you want to leave your house?”
“I can't expect you to understand, Lennon, but I can't stay here and wait for him to come to me.”
He sighs. “This is about the boy, isn't it? You need to let him go. He's not your responsibility anymore.”
“Look, don't worry about me and go enjoy these next few days with your family.”
“Ev—”
I hang up the phone and as soon as I open the door, my brother is standing in front of me wearing a worried expression. “Where are you going?”
“I think you know.”
He sighs, his hands going to his hips in defeat. “I'd tell you not to go but I know you won't listen. That boy has a serious hold on you.”
“It's not like that. It's more complicated than you can imagine.”
“Fuck,” Connor says, his eyes widening.
“What?” I rest my hand on the doorframe.
