Dangerously Mine

Chapter 14

The leather seat of the SUV was warm, but I couldn't stop shaking.

My mind was a complete blank. Every time I tried to think about what had just happened, my brain just stopped working. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The maid was just... gone. The men in the black masks were gone. And the man driving the car had a hole in his stomach, but his hands were perfectly steady on the steering wheel.

We drove out of the underground garage and into the dark Vegas night. I didn't know what was going to happen to me. I couldn't even speak. My throat felt like it was full of sand, and every time I swallowed, it hurt. I just hugged my knees to my chest, staring out the window at the passing streetlights, completely confused about where we were going or what we were doing.

I thought being rescued meant the nightmare was over. I thought leaving the Santos family meant I was finally safe. But my very first day with the Mikaelsons had ended in a bloodbath, and I was starting to realize that maybe I hadn't been rescued at all. Maybe I had just been moved to a much more dangerous cage.

I kept looking over at Jacob. He was wearing a fresh dark jacket he had pulled from the back seat before we left, probably to hide the blood, but I could see the dark stain spreading through his white shirt underneath it. He was driving with one hand. His face was pale, his jaw tight, but he wasn't crying out. He wasn't even groaning. He just looked straight ahead, his grey eyes reflecting the dashboard lights.

Then, the car slowed down.

I looked out the window, expecting to see a secret warehouse, a hospital, or maybe a hideout in the middle of nowhere. Instead, the bright, glowing yellow arches of a McDonald’s lit up the inside of the car.

Jacob didn't use the drive-thru. He parked the car right in front, turned off the engine, and pulled the keys out.

"Come on," he said. His voice was quiet. Nonchalant. Like we were just taking a normal late-night road trip.

I just stared at him. My mouth was open, but no sound came out. He opened his door, stepped out into the cool night air, and waited for me. When I didn't move, he walked around to my side and opened the door.

"Jhannara. Get out."

My legs felt like jelly when my bare feet hit the pavement. I was still wearing the oversized nightshirt, and I felt completely exposed. The bright fluorescent lights of the restaurant were blinding as we walked inside. The smell of greasy fries and burgers hit my nose, and it felt so incredibly normal that it made my head spin. It didn't make sense. The world outside was full of blood and guns, but inside here, the floors were clean and the menu board was humming.

There were only a few people inside since it was the middle of the night. A couple of teenagers in a corner booth looked up when the door chimed. A man typing on a laptop glanced at us, then looked away, then looked back again. They were staring. Of course they were staring. I looked like a ghost, and Jacob looked like a man who had just walked out of a war zone, even with his jacket pulled tight over his stomach.

But Jacob didn't care. He walked straight to the counter, entirely indifferent to the eyes on us.

The girl behind the register looked exhausted, her eyes half-closed until we stood in front of her. She looked at my bare feet, then at Jacob's pale face. "Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get you?" she mumbled, her voice shaking just a little bit.

"Two Big Mac meals. Large. Black coffees," Jacob said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, sliding a bill across the counter. He didn't look back at the people staring at us. He didn't even look at the cashier. He just waited.

The silence between us was loud. I couldn't hold it in anymore. The absurdity of it, the absolute craziness of standing in a fast-food restaurant after watching people die, made the words finally burst out of me.

"Are you serious right now?" I whispered, my voice cracking. I tried to keep it down, but my hands were shaking so badly I had to ball them into fists. "You still have the nerves to eat after everything?"

Jacob didn't answer right away. He took the tray from the cashier, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn't wince, but I saw his fingers tighten against the plastic tray as his injury flared up. He walked over to a booth in the corner, away from the windows, and sat down.

I stood by the counter for a second, feeling the cashier's eyes on me, before I quickly hurried over and slid into the booth across from him.

"Jacob," I pressed, leaning over the table. I was terrified of the people watching us, but I was more confused by him. "People died tonight. Your maid... she's dead. You were stabbed! You are literally bleeding through your shirt right now, and you're sitting here waiting for burgers?"

Jacob unwrapped one of the burgers. He took a slow, calm bite, chewed, and swallowed before he finally looked at me. His grey eyes were completely flat, showing absolutely no emotion.

"Strength is needed to be refilled after a long day," he said simply. He set the burger down and picked up his coffee, taking a sip. "Adrenaline burns through fuel. If I don't eat, my body shuts down. If my body shuts down, I can't drive. If I can't drive, we get caught. It’s basic mathematics, Jhannara."

"It's insane," I whispered, pulling my arms around myself. "You act like this is just a normal Tuesday. Is this how your life is? Is this what happens every day?"

"Not every day," he replied, his tone flat. He pushed the second burger wrapper toward me. "Eat."

"I can't eat," I said, looking away. My stomach was twisting into knots. "I'm not like you. I can't just switch off my brain and pretend nothing happened. I don't even know who those men were. They said I was property. They said I belonged to someone else's debt."

Jacob didn't say anything for a long time. He just ate his food, one slow bite at a time. The people in the other table were still whispering, pointing over at us. I felt my face getting hot, and I shrank back into the plastic seat, trying to make myself as small as possible. I had spent eight years locked in a house, wanting nothing more than to see the outside world, to experience what regular people experienced. And now here I was, at a regular McDonald's, feeling like an alien.

"They won't touch you here," Jacob said suddenly, breaking the quiet. He didn't look up from his fries. "Too many witnesses. Too much light. My enemies are professionals, not street thugs. They don't do scenes in public unless they have to."

"But they know where we are," I said, my voice rising a little. I caught myself and lowered it quickly. "They know you took me."

"They knew where we were in that exact moment," Jacob corrected, his voice dropping into that deep, heavy tone that demanded authority without even trying. "The situation is being handled."

I looked down at the burger in front of me. The warmth of the paper wrapper was starting to seep into my hands. My body was exhausted, aching from being dragged across the floor, and despite the terror humming in my veins, the smell of the food was starting to make my stomach growl. It was a humiliating feeling—being hungry when people had just died for me.

Slowly, hesitatingly, I reached out and unwrapped the burger. My hands were still trembling, and a fry fell out onto the tray. I took a small bite. It tasted like salt and grease, but it felt solid in my mouth. It gave me something to focus on besides the image of the maid lying on the floor.

"Who was she?" I asked quietly, chewing slowly. "The maid. She told me she was protecting me because you ordered her to. She said her life didn't matter compared to your command."

Jacob paused, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. For a split second, his eyes darkened, a shadow passing over his pale face before his mask slipped right back on.

"She was an employee," he said flatly. "She knew the risks when she took the job."

"How can you say that?" I asked, a spark of anger cutting through my fear. "She died for me! She didn't even know me, she didn't even like me! She told me to shut up earlier while eating, and then tonight she took a knife for me. You can't just call her an employee."

"In my world, Jhannara, everyone has a price," Jacob said, leaning back against the booth. He let out a short, sharp breath, his hand moving to press against his stomach under the jacket. "She received hers. Her family will be taken care of. That is how the system works."

"It’s a horrible system," I whispered.

"It’s the only one that keeps you breathing," he retorted. He didn't say it meanly. He said it like a teacher explaining a boring fact to a child. He was completely detached from the cruelty of it.

I looked at him, really looked at him under the bright, ugly lights of the restaurant. He looked tired. The skin under his eyes was dark, and his face had a ghostly tint to it from the blood loss. But he didn't complain. He didn't ask for a napkin to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He just sat there, dominating the space around him by simply existing.

The teenagers in the corner booth finally stood up and walked toward the exit. As they passed our table, one of them stared a little too long at the dark stain on Jacob's shirt. Jacob didn't move his head, but his grey eyes tracked the boy with a cold, dead stare that made the teenager instantly look down and sprint out the door.

The heavy glass door clicked shut, and the restaurant went back to its quiet hum.

"We leave in five minutes," Jacob said, checking a plain black watch on his wrist. "Finish your food."

"Where are we going?" I asked again, taking another bite because my body was forcing me to. "Are we going back to the mansion? Is it even safe there anymore?"

"We are going back," he said simply. He didn't offer any details, and I knew better than to push. The Mikaelsons didn't talk unless they wanted to, and I was starting to learn that my constant questions were just bouncing off his stone wall.

I finished half the burger before my stomach couldn't take any more. I pushed the tray away, watching as Jacob neatly folded his wrappers and threw them into the brown paper bag. He handled the trash with the same precision he had used to handle his gun in the garage. Everything he did had a purpose. Nothing was wasted.

He stood up from the booth, and for a brief second, his knees buckled. It was so fast I almost missed it, but I saw his hand shoot out to grip the edge of the table to steady himself. His knuckles turned white.

"Jacob," I said, my hand instinctively reaching out toward him, though I didn't dare touch him. "Are you going to be okay? You need a doctor. Real doctors, not a fast-food restaurant."

He straightened his spine, pulling his jacket over his stomach again, his face returning to that smooth, unreadable expression.

"I have a doctor waiting," he said, his voice completely level. "Move, Jhannara."

I got out of the chair, following him closely as we walked out into the cool night. The transition from the bright, greasy comfort of the McDonald’s back into the dark, silent SUV felt heavy. The mood instantly dropped again, the reality of our situation settling over us like a cold fog the second the car doors slammed shut.

As Jacob turned the key and the engine roared to life, I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. My first full day as a Mikaelson was over. I had wanted freedom from the Santos attic, I had wanted to see what the real world looked like, but as we pulled back onto the highway, leaving the bright yellow arches behind, I realized the real world was much more terrifying than the darkness I had left behind. And the man sitting next to me was the most terrifying part of it all.