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I’m not sure what scares me more: the sight of the needle in that damn machine about to pierce my skin repeatedly, the slight glaze in Andreas’s eyes that suggests he’s smoked weed before coming here, or Harlan’s maniacal obsession.
I want to rant that I don’t care about generations to come. That I don’t care about this place. But he scored an indirect hit when he mentioned Ava’s birthright.
My daughter is the reason I married Harlan. She’s the reason I tolerate his idiosyncrasies and don’t call him out on my suspicions regarding his parents’ death and the regular disappearances of our workers. Ava is my world and I’ll do anything to protect her, so if that means getting some stupid tattoo to appease my lunatic husband, I have no choice.
Harlan beams his approval when I slump in the chair beside Andreas, and he lifts my foot and rests it on the arm. I brace for the first prick of the needle, clenching my teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack. When the sting comes, it’s excruciating and I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut and blindly reaching for Harlan’s hand.
But I come up empty and when I open my eyes, Harlan’s gone.
* * *
A few hours later,Spencer finds me curled up under my favorite tree in the orchard.
Our tree.
The one where he lay me down on a blanket that first time and made love to me.
It’s my go-to comfort spot and I used to bring Ava here in the months after she was born, lying beside her on a picnic blanket, content just to watch her. The way her eyelids fluttered as she slept, her endless fascination with her toes, her gummy smiles. I never expected to love someone so completely. The kind of love I’d do anything to protect.
Which is why I need to keep a closer eye on my husband.
I don’t like the change in his demeanor since he inherited Arcania. He’s a demanding and controlling boss and I hear the whispers from the workers: they view him as a cult leader.
He has all the traits: charismatic, convincing, dominant, persuasive. He has an innate power to get people to do what he wants, like the workers who’ve never entered an ocean in their lives but are happy to learn to dive because Harlan presents his case in such a way they want to please him.
And he’s bringing more people into the fold on the pretext of expanding the orchard. There’s a lot more single employees now, men and women, who I can see are misfits. People like me when I first arrived here, craving a sense of belonging, of acceptance. Then there are the others, middle-aged and lonely, going through a transition in their lives, probably divorce, and they’re particularly vulnerable as they latch onto stability, which belonging to the Arcania community provides.
I want to warn them it’s a con. That Harlan doesn’t care about them, that he’s only using them to further his own agenda, that once they arrive they won’t leave. I’m resigned to being stuck here. Having Ava has bound me to a man and a place I don’t want. But my maternal instinct is strong and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure my daughter’s safety.
Because I know if I ever try to run, Harlan will come after me.
He has the resources I don’t and he’ll find me and Ava, and I can’t bear to think what he’ll do to punish us.
“Are you okay?” Spencer sinks onto the blanket next to me. “You don’t look so good.”
“What every woman wants to hear,” I mutter, and he laughs at my droll response.
“Seriously. Are you alright?” He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek and my breath hitches.
I make it a point not to be alone with Spencer like this because I’m susceptible to him. He genuinely cares about me and I’m so starved for affection I might do something rash.
“Harlan forced me to get the tattoo.”
Spencer’s eyes widen. “What do you mean by forced?” His jaw clenches and his hands curl into fists. “Did he hurt you?”
His protectiveness is heartwarming, but what can he do? If he ever challenges Harlan he’ll be fired and then where will I be? I like having an ally in this place, someone I know will help me if I ever need it.
I shake my head. “No. But he knows I abhor needles, and he guilted me into it.”
“I’m sorry.” He reaches out to squeeze my hand, and I snatch it away.
“Please don’t. If you touch me now, I may start bawling and never stop.”
Sadness downturns his mouth. “We could run away. You, me, and Ava. Get as far from this place as humanly possible. I’ll look after you. And I’ll raise Ava as if she’s mine—”
“Stop. Please.” I barely squeeze the plea past the lump of regret lodged in my throat. “You know him. He’d never stop until he found us and I don’t trust him not to do something… drastic.”
The resignation in Spencer’s gaze matches mine because he knows I’m right. But this time when he reaches for me I don’t stop him, as I sob into his shoulder and savor the comfort of his arms holding me tight.
