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“Ava, you will not question me. This is happening whether you like it or not.” Harlan’s bristling with rage: his face is puce, his lips compress and the muscles in his neck are corded. “Now sit and let Andreas begin.”
Andreas’s eyes are lowered and I wonder if he remembers me being as recalcitrant eighteen years ago.
A shudder passes through Ava and I lean into her, wishing I could prevent this, hating my powerlessness. “I’m right here, sweetie. It won’t take long.”
“Mom. Please.” Her eyes are wide with fright and nausea roils in my gut because her plea will go unheeded, because as much as I’d like to stop this, there’s nothing I can do.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth, and she knows it’s over.
She has no choice.
The flash of fire in her eyes is more resignation than anger. She knows I’m a prisoner here as much as she is. She only asked me about leaving Arcania once and I broke down, sobbing so hard she joined in. The fact she does all her schooling online and has the occasional tutor if one of the workers has a talent in algebra or English means she learned from a young age that she lives in a gilded cage: shiny and pretty on the outside, dark and demonic on the inside.
Because that’s what Harlan is, a narcissist possessed by a demon, his greed and quest for the compass knowing no bounds.
If he killed his own parents to get his hands on Arcania and employees continue to disappear, what will he do to us?
Ava is an empath and sensing my distress, she squares her shoulders, casts a malevolent glare at her father’s back, and stalks toward Andreas. I want to go to her, to hold her hand, to offer whatever comfort I can, but Harlan bars my way when I take a step forward.
“She’s eighteen, for goodness’ sake. Stop mollycoddling her,” he barks, only lowering his arm when he sees my brief nod of acceptance.
I wince at the first prick of the needle on Ava’s sole and clamp my lips shut when I see her lower lip wobble. There are tears in her eyes, but she’s defiant, glaring at her father the entire time, refusing to let them fall.
Our gazes lock and I hope she can read the message in mine.
That’s my girl.
Chapter23
Lucy
I’m sipping the last of my purple smoothie when I enter the yoga room. Craig and Demi are already sitting on mats and Cora, standing at the front of the room, casts me a disapproving glare.
“Sorry I’m late,” I mumble, downing the rest of my drink before choosing a mat at the back.
Cora ignores my apology and claps her hands once, loudly. “Let’s get started. Lie on your backs. Close your eyes. Blank your mind.”
Sounds like a run-of-the-mill meditation so far and nothing like the transformational experience Demi mentioned her friends had. Then again, I’m not Cora’s greatest fan because there’s something about her I don’t like, so I’m skeptical.
Cora’s voice drones on: focus on tensing and releasing individual muscle groups from our toes to our head, concentrate on pushing air deep into our lungs, exhaling to a slow count. Your generic meditation session, and I’m pleasantly drowsy when I hear it.
Mom’s voice.
Let me go. Please. I’m begging you.
I can’t stay here.
You know what happens when you step out of line.
It doesn’t matter who I am.
I’ll be killed like the rest of them.
My eyes snap open as a cold sweat breaks out over my body. My pulse races as I stare at the ceiling, stunned to see a vision of my mother as a teen running along the path to the beach, her long blonde hair streaming behind her.
I blink and refocus, and this time she’s in the foyer, patting the walls like she’s seeking an escape route. When she glances over her shoulder, the sheer terror on her face makes my breath catch.
I sit bolt upright, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it. Craig and Demi have vanished, while Cora is lying on a mat at the front of the room, staring at the ceiling.
