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“Pia,” the strange but handsome man says. “We need to move now.”
I glance at him, but the movement behind him catches my attention. It’s my father off in the distance with a group of men.
They’re coming right for us.
I can’t go back to my tower. I just can’t. I’ll die in there if I do.
“Pia,” my stranger says again, this time grabbing my arm. “We have to go.” I let him pull me up, and then we’re running through the olive tree farm. I look at the olive trees as they blur past and wonder if I’ll ever see these exact ones again. Will I ever live in my father’s house again?
By the insistence of my stranger, I’m going to assume not. He wants to make me his bride. Why do all of these men want me all of a sudden? I don’t know any of them, yet they all seem to know me. I wonder what my father told people about me—if he ever told the truth—that I was locked away after witnessing him kill my mother. I seriously doubt it. My father is a proud man and won’t let anything ruin his reputation. I’m actually amazed he wants me to speak as badly as he does. As long as I’m mute, I can’t tell others about what he’s done.
My stranger grips my hand. His touch is a comfort despite my fear of him. I don’t even know his name, and he’s speaking about marrying me. Even so, why do I feel safe with him? He protected me from getting shot, which helps, but there’s something else, too. Something I can’t put my finger on.
“They’re over there!” Someone shouts in the distance. One of my father’s guards. A horde of footsteps is coming closer and closer to us.
I look back and forth, searching for a way out of the olive tree farm, but it’s only olive trees for miles in every direction. The only way out is the road back near my house, but we’d have to face my father and his men. I seriously doubt my stranger could take all those men on at once and still get us out alive.
“Come on,” my stranger says, tugging me down another row of trees.
I want to ask him where we’re going and what we’re going to do, but as always, I try to force the words out, and they refuse to come. It’s frustrating when you know that you used to be able to speak but now can’t. I feel so alone in this world. I can’t even help my protector.
“You doing all right back there?” He shoots me a grin. Gosh, he’s handsome. I’ve never seen a man so captivating in looks as him. With his black hair, dark eyes, and the scruff on his jaw, he looks like he stepped out of a romance movie. My father gave me books to read and movies to watch in my captivity, so I wasn’t completely isolated from other—even though they were always in the pages of a book or on a TV screen.
I nod as I pant harder. I’m not used to running. My tiny room didn’t give me much space to move around.
“Good.” Even his voice is a comfort. I think back to how he threw himself on top of me to protect me from the gunshots and how nice it felt to touch another human being. I haven’t felt the touch of anyone else since my mom died. She used to give the best hugs, and I desperately miss them. When my stranger’s body was against mine, I felt like I came alive for the first time in years, despite my terror of being shot. Now, with his hand wrapped around mine, I honestly don’t want to remove it. I don’t know what this man has planned for me other than marriage, but if he helps me get away from my father, I’ll take it. I just hope he doesn’t reveal himself as bad or worse than my father. My heart wouldn’t be able to handle it.
“We’re going to get through this, Pia,” he tells me. “Don’t worry.”
He picks up his pace, helping to tug me behind him. I hear the footsteps of the guards getting closer. I glance over my shoulder, and my gaze lands on my father. He’s at the helm of the men chasing us. His scary eyes are narrowed in anger and determination. He wants me back, and he won’t stop until he gets exactly that.
I tap the stranger’s arm, and he looks over and sees the men behind us. He nods at me before gently pushing me out of the way.
“Get behind that tree,” he orders. I huddle down and watch.
He lifts out his gun and begins firing. One of the guards lands on his back, and he doesn’t get back up. He’s dead. I shield my eyes. I can’t watch this. More death. Always death. The image of my mother bleeding out in my father’s arms flashes through my mind. My breath becomes even shallower. I can tell it’s not just from the running but the panic coursing through me. I can’t breathe. I think I might be dying again.
I hunch forward and gasp in breaths. It hurts so much. Will I ever get the chance to live my life not feeling so much pain?
The gunshots continue, but I can’t look up. Will my stranger be all right? I want him to be.
Then I hear footsteps coming near, and I look up to see my stranger \ standing before me. He crouches to meet my gaze. “I killed some of them but not all. We need to keep moving.”
My eyes wander over his body. Not a scratch on him.
I clutch my hands to my chest and shake my head. I can’t move. Can’t he see I’m dying here?
My stranger grips my shoulders. “Pia, we need to move. Now.”
I can’t do it. I can’t do it.
He growls, then scoops me up into his arms bridal style. I gasp and clutch at his shoulders. In this new angle, I can see the brown flecks in his dark eyes, which draws me in even more, like I could sink into his eyes forever.
My stranger begins to run with me in his arms. I look over his shoulder to see my father still pursuing us. When will he ever stop? How will we get out of this?
I’m still gasping for air. Where his hands touch my body, my stranger squeezes me. Is he trying to give me comfort? Why would he care? No one since my mother has cared about me.
It feels like a balloon pops in my chest, and I can breathe again once we reach the main road and are out of the olive tree farm. I love those trees but being lost in them was something I never needed to do.
