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Jericho’s gaze moves to me with interest. “Not for a very long time. But don’t concern yourself with that, Little Chaos.”
Oh, I will concern myself with that. Especially when this place fills me with utter dread and bad omens. I swear to God, a feeling of deja vu smacks me in the face, rendering me breathless. There’s just something about the formidable mansion, making me want to turn and run away.
Although my mom sucked, that trailer they decided to condemn has been my home since I was four years old, when my father told my mom to officially fuck off after years of hounding him for support.
“Your father never wanted you. I did, though. I fought for you. That’s why we’re here,” my mom sighs, sitting on the couch, running a finger through her long brown locks. “But we’ll be okay.” She smiles wearily at me as my little eyes look around the trailer. “I just have to keep going to work, cleaning that mansion and…” she chews on her bottom lip. “We’ll make this work, Journey Girl. Okay?” She runs her fingers through my hair, looking at me affectionately.
My heart pounds at the remnants of her voice ringing in my head. Journey Girl. She hasn’t called me that since I was… Fuck, I don’t even know when she stopped. I don't know when she stopped being that mom and turned into the lady she is now. The woman who doesn't give a flying fuck about my existence.
That moment was one of the last times I saw her healthy and glowing with life. I was little—maybe four—but the memory sticks out so vividly, crashing into me. Why it’s haunting me now, I have no idea.
“Come on, Little Chaos. It’s been a long night.” He yanks at the cuffs, jolting me out of my thoughts.
“No thanks to you,” I mutter under my breath.
How this shitty night went so damn wrong, I’ll never know. I’ll blame the alcohol I consumed to wash away the scuzzy feeling of spying on someone who seemed so genuine. Fuck. I’m never going to get more information on Jenni if I’m tied to Jericho for fucking eternity. And my monster? Fuck. I don’t know how I’m going to get to him and let him know. Worry consumes my thoughts as I follow behind him, staring up at the gigantic mansion before my eyes.
How will I save my sister now when I can’t leave Jericho’s sight? Escape. That’s how.
And then, hide forever. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
“Wait until you see your room, Kitten!” Arrow bounces on his toes the entire time Jericho drags me down the driveway toward a side door.
“My room?”
“Your room, Little Chaos. You didn’t think I’d secure your soul without facilitating amenities, right?” Jericho purrs, stopping outside the door expectantly.
Secure my soul. This mother fucker is going to get a dick punch in the middle of the night. I smirk. Imagine that. If he forces me to sleep beside him, he’s going to get quite the wake-up call.
My pills not only stop the nightmares, but they keep me in place, too. My trauma was a hell of a thing, causing thrashing, vivid dreams, and sleepwalking. The amount of times I’ve woken up in the closet, on the floor, or in the bathtub is more than I can count. And it’s all thanks to my monster and the prison he threw me into when I was sixteen.
Jericho Viotto will rue the day he handcuffed me to him.
My nostrils flare. “What did you bring from my old room? I need…”
“Nothing.” Jericho raises a brow, stepping back for Shepp to unlock the door for him, and holds it open. “You need nothing from your old life. I’ll give you the clothes on your back and the food in your belly.” He says it so matter-of-factly that my heart drops. It’s no-nonsense. Impossible to fight him. Especially when he tugs me through the door, leading into the massive kitchen.
“Don’t worry, Kitten. I got you a fun surprise,” Arrow murmurs, brushing past me. "It's life-size and perfect for when you're in need." He winks, settling on a kitchen stool pulled up to a large island in the middle of the chef’s kitchen, fit with the best appliances and marble countertops.
I stop dead, pulling Jericho with me. My eyes flutter around the illuminated space, rich with everything under the sun. This kitchen is about as big as my damn trailer.
“You’re gawking,” Jericho states, putting a finger under my chin and closing my mouth. I glare in his direction, earning a blinding smile. “As I said, welcome to your new home.” He waves a hand toward the darkened house beyond the kitchen.
Right. The sun is still down. But it won’t be for long.
Shepp clicks the rings on his hands together, gaining Jericho’s attention. His fingers move rapidly as he signs something. But those bright eyes, focus on me.
“What did he say?” I ask when they all turn their attention to me.
“He’s going to do what Shepp does best and make you a gourmet breakfast with all the damn fixings.” Arrow grins when Shepp huffs but nods in my direction. “It’s his love language. Stuffing you full of food and other things.” He wiggles his brows.
I’d argue that I want to go to bed and take nothing from them. But my stomach, ever the hungry beast, growls loudly.
“His point,” Jericho mumbles sarcastically, pulling me onto an empty stool between him and Arrow.
For the next hour, we sit silently, watching Shepp work the stove like a five-star chef, pulling together a beautiful breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, fruits, pancakes, and French toast. Some of my all time favorites. But how does he know? Has he been watching me or something? That’d be weird as hell. So many questions run through my mind, but my panic forces me to come to a conclusion that it’s a lucky guess. Everyone loves pancakes, French toast, and eggs. Now, all that’s missing is the delicious donuts I found every morning on the countertop of my kitchen.
I watch his back as he cooks with ease. Every muscle in his body seems to lose the tension that’s always there. The smell of the food ramps up the gurgling in my stomach.
