Corrupted Union

17

The only thing I’d ever truly wanted was to make my parents happy. My feelings had never factored into the equation, so I didn’t know how to answer the question. I needed to think, and I needed more information. Whatever was or wasn’t happening on the third floor could be an essential piece of my decision. What if it had all been a figment of my imagination? One quick trip upstairs could clear up everything and help reinstate the status quo. I could put all this insanity behind me and pretend it never happened. I was good at that, after all. Box it up, pack it away, and move on. It seemed absurd not to at least try to have a look around. I turned on the television, then snuck into the guest bedroom. Stetson had said his father was out of town, but I still felt the need to be careful. Once inside the bathroom where I’d first heard the cries, I stood motionless, straining my ears for any possible sound. Nothing. That was what all of this could be. A whole lot of worry over nothing. I needed to get my ass up there and see for myself. I returned to the hallway just outside Stetson’s room and listened for the shower. Bingo. This was the perfect opportunity. No one else was at the house. All it would take was five minutes to run upstairs, check things out, and be done with it—my worries, Keir, the disruption of my entire life plan. Determination urged my feet across the main landing and into the opposite wing, but before I started up the interior stairwell to the third floor, I took out my phone and typed a quick text to Keir. Me: Going upstairs to check it out. If I don’t text back in five, call the cops. I might have been a smidge brash, but I wasn’t stupid. Should something go wrong, I wanted at least one person to know where I’d disappeared. Shoving the phone into my back pocket, I bolted up the stairs. The two main floors of the historical home were outfitted with spacious rooms and tall ceilings, whereas the third floor had originally been built to house the nursery and staff. The wooden stairs were a simple passage up to a plain hallway that looked more like an old hotel than a mansion, if the hotel had lost power and been used to film The Shining. Little had been done to update the space. As far as I knew, the Wellingtons never even used it. The doors were all closed, limiting the light to one small window at either end of the hall. Every inch of my skin crawled with the need to run. Ro, do not let your imagination run away with you. It’s just an old house. Get your s**t together. And if it’s not just an old house? Then it’s even more crucial that you get your ass over there and find her. I inhaled a long breath of stale attic air. Walking swiftly but carefully, I hurried down the hall to the approximate area where the guest room would have been below. I found four doors clustered together, but two were on the wrong side of the hall. Of the two remaining, one had a deadbolt on the door with a key hanging on a hook beside it. No. f*****g. Way. Sure, I’d sworn I heard someone crying up here, but a part of me hadn’t believed it was possible. A part of me was convinced I had missed an alternative explanation. This was the Wellington’s, after all. We’d known them forever. Could Stetson’s father actually have a woman locked in his attic? I took the key from the wall. It was time to find out. OceanofPDF.com I texted Rowan back ten goddamn times and called twice without a response. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. The crazy woman had gone off half-c****d and would end up dead. f*****g f**k. What the hell was I supposed to do now? The Wellington house was only ten minutes from my place if traffic cooperated, but then what? If I showed up and there wasn’t a problem, I might create one. The asshole knew me now and would no doubt tell his father about the incident. Bringing any more attention to myself wouldn’t help me learn more about a possible abduction or the guns. So where did that leave me? As far as I could tell, it was time to call in a favor. OceanofPDF.com I wasn’t prepared. No matter the twisted scenarios I’d envisioned in my head, none of it compared to the reality of opening that door and seeing a young woman huddled in a corner of the room with a chain shackled to one wrist. I had to close my eyes and cover my mouth to keep from vomiting all over the floor. Get it together, Ro. This girl needs you, and you don’t have time to fall apart. I nodded and swallowed back the pooling saliva, then opened my eyes to confront the truth. The old bedroom contained a metal bed with a stained mattress and a single wooden chair. Yellowing ancient wallpaper warped off the wall along the seams, and cool air drifted in from a poorly insulated dormer window. The girl was young, maybe nineteen. She’d fallen asleep with her head resting on one wall, knees pulled to her chest and arms curled around herself protectively. I hoped she was just asleep. I couldn’t fathom the alternative. You’d know if she was dead. She’s in rough shape, but she’s not dead. Her long blond hair was tangled, and her pale skin was mottled with bruises. She wore a floral sundress that seemed at odds with the time of year and the situation. The sight of her sent a jagged metal spike straight through my heart. I took a step forward to approach, making a floorboard creak. The girl’s eyes shot open. My hands flew up in a rush to assure her I meant no harm and to hopefully keep her quiet. She scurried to her feet and surged forward as far as the short chain would allow while a steady flow of indiscernible words fell from her chapped lips. I didn’t have to speak her language to know her meaning. She was begging for help. God, did I want to give it, but how? I nodded and continued to shush her, trying to convey that I understood without wasting time. The chain led into a tiny bathroom where it hooked around the porcelain toilet. I didn’t have a key to her wrist cuff, and I’d practically have to destroy the toilet to get the other end released. s**t. s**t. What should I do? Did I go get Stetson to help me free her? Was there any chance he already knew what his father was doing? My stomach churned all over again.