Chapter 6: Stop Trying to Control Me
961 Words
Out of breath, I yanked the car door wide just in time. Gravel cracked underfoot as my heels slammed down, the fabric snagging, ripping near the edge. Not that it mattered. Air scraped my throat. Each gasp pulled tight across my ribs. Her shriek clung behind my eyes - his wife - ringing without pause, sharp as shattered glass.
Something shifted in the air just as my foot touched the first step. Adrian stood close now, too close, his fingers settling on my arm like a secret. Gentle at first. Maybe even careful. But holding firm, as if testing how much pressure it would take. A quiet line drawn without words.
"Inside. Now."
"Don't touch me."
"You're making a scene."
Spinning fast, I yanked my arm back. Under the bright glare of his flawless house lights, I stood face to face with him. His jaw clenched hard, hair wild from sprinting, breath coming quick as if he’d been wrestling shadows. Someone had shouted at me - loud, public, raw - and yet here he was hauling me away, acting like I was the problem
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why are we running?"
Stillness filled the space between us. There he remained, upright, air moving slowly through his lungs, fixed on me with pale eyes giving nothing away. Above, the bright lights droned without pause. From deep within, the sound of a clock starting its count crept into the silence.
"Who was she?" I asked.
"No one."
"She knew my face, Adrian. She pointed at me like I'd killed someone."
One finger caught the knot of his tie. It came undone slow. Tightness showed along his jawline. Get into the house now, Lena
"Stop controlling me."
He stopped speaking. Moving nearer instead. Then said it again - control. One more pace forward. You were the subject now
A single sound hit sharp, stinging each time. Still I stood firm. Not once did my eyes waver. Up went my face, fingers tight in knots beside me, pressure building till the bone along my jaw throbbed without letup.
"You signed a contract," he said, voice low, almost a whisper. "You agreed to obey."
"I agreed to wear your ring and sleep in your house. I didn't agree to be dragged around like a dog while strangers scream at me."
"Then you should have read the fine print."
Out of silence, a laugh rose. Deep. Unsettling. Hahaa - nothing like his expression, nothing like the scene, nothing at all but that empty stare. It spilled out like he’d lost the habit, like the sound had stiffened from years underground.
Back I moved. Under my heels, the gravel slipped.
"What's wrong with you?"
He quit laughing. Blankness returned to his face, that chill creeping back like a cover slipping into position. What messes me up - it is you
"That doesn't make any sense."
Nothing here adds up. Away he turned, fingers dragging through his hair. Two paces forward, then three more followed. His shoulders trembled - no chill caused that. Some unnamed thing did. You could’ve refused. Left my office and kept going. Never glanced behind. What held you there instead?
"You know why."
Your brother. The way he said it tasted bitter, as if the phrase burned his tongue. All people carry brothers. All have motives behind their choices. Yet you - He froze mid-step. Turned fully toward me. There was moisture in his gaze. Not weeping. Only damp, like sorrow waited just beneath but found no release. Loving him is real for you. Isn’t that right
"Of course I love him. He's my brother."
He chuckled once more. Quieter now. Nearly heavy with sorrow. "Wish I had that."
It made no sense, what he said. Had no wish to make it. Cold crept up from the fabric of my dress, then deeper, settling inside bone. My arms pulled tight across my chest while I stood still, eyes on him breaking down - slow, uneven - as if time stretched each c***k open beneath those bright lights in his front drive.
"We're not done talking about that woman," I said.
"We're done."
"We're not –"
Out of nowhere, he lunged. Speed surprised me - sharp, sudden. Past my shoulder his arm snapped, aiming not for skin but space beyond. The glass table near the entrance caught my eye next. On it, a vase stood. Pale. Costly. Packed with blooms I’d overlooked until that second.
A sudden slap of his hand sent the vase skidding. Midair, it twisted, flinging droplets that caught the glow above like scattered sparks before crashing.
Broke apart near the wall close to where I stood.
CRASH.
Shards lay broken on the stones. One cut into my ankle. Warmth spread, sharp pain came - still, I stayed still. Not a twitch. There I remained, in that ripped dress and worn-out shoes, eyes fixed on Adrian Voss gasping as if he’d leapt from a high edge and landed hard.
A creak broke the silence as the front door swung wide. Figures stepped forward - quiet, quick. Behind those shapes, Mira’s gaze drifted into view, never blinking, never leaving.
Clean this up,” Adrian said, his voice firm once more - hollow now. The mask had returned. Get her indoors before the cold takes hold
Footsteps moved by without pause. Down went his eyes, nowhere near the shattered pane. My cut heel stayed unseen. His gaze skipped my skin entirely.
Yet there was his hand, plain to see.
A c***k runs down the neck of it, left by fingers now still. One motion did this - swift, careless - a palm opening too wide. Glass split like ice on water. That grip once held nothing so fragile.
It was shaking.
- Writer
