Vicious Seduction

34

I watched her as she took it in and tried to intuit what she might be thinking. It was pointless, though. Everything about her was a mystery to me. I gave her a minute to look around while I grabbed one of my undershirts and a pair of lounge pants that would probably fall off her, but they were the best I had on hand. “Here’s something to change into. There are several guest rooms down the hall to your left. You can take your pick. Bathrooms should have everything you need for the night.” I took off my jacket and draped it over the back of the sofa. “I don’t want you going back to the club again. I don’t know what happened with your family, but those people are toxic. There’s no reason to ever speak to them again.” Yes, it was high-handed, but I didn’t care. If she couldn’t cut ties with them, then I’d do it for her. Someone needed to do it before they hurt her beyond repair.

“But you’re a member, and we’re engaged.” “Fake engaged, remember?” “Still, won’t it look odd if you don’t bring me?” Her voice rose with a hint of panic. “You can’t just go alone.” “I can, and I will.” I thought she might argue even though it was absurd for her to want to go back there. Why the hell would she want to continue putting herself through that? Lina’s eyes darted around the room, her fists curled into tight little balls. “You can’t do this.” “Do what? It’s just a damn club, Lina. Unless you want to enlighten me and tell me what’s with all the secrecy.” She lifted a shaky hand and wiped angrily at her eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.” I shook my head with a bitter chuckle. “Right. And you’re crying for nothing, then.” “No!” she yelled. “I’m crying because I don’t like self-righteous assholes thinking they can order me around. Take me home. This wasn’t part of our deal, and I want to go home.” “No, you’re staying here.” Each furious word was growled through clenched teeth. We stood across from one another, a mere ten feet and a lifetime of secrets between us. “What, am I your prisoner now? What about my things? I have a life, you know.” “I’ll go get whatever you need. You were f*****g held at knifepoint today, Lina. Give me a goddamn break, and let me have this.” My voice bellowed off the high ceilings by the end of my rant. The arctic glare she shot me could have frozen shut the gates of hell. She spun around and charged down the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind her. OceanofPDF.com CHAPTER 24 LINA After shutting myself in the spare bedroom, I didn’t turn on the lights. The dark felt more appropriate when every day felt more bleak and pointless than the one before. I stood with my back to the door. Tears cooling on my face. Heart tattered and bleeding at my feet. How would I ever get Amelie back if I didn’t have access to the people who’d taken her? I missed my sister so f*****g bad. I hadn’t protected her, and now I didn’t know if she’d ever come home. I was trying so damn hard to fix what I’d done, but I hit a new wall every time I turned around. Every day that passed tore us further apart. Every minute of the shame I carried shredded another piece of my soul. Was this my punishment? An eternal struggle to repent only to have the universe reject my efforts? I slowly slid down the door until I sat with my knees at my chest. I didn’t hug them to me. I didn’t deserve the comfort it provided. I deserved to be alone in the dark exactly as I was. You’re not alone, remember? That voice deep inside me tried to fight back the darkness like the warm glow of city lights filtering in through the window. I wondered if I wouldn’t be better off without it—the voice of hope. Learning to manage in the pitch-black would have served me better than constantly seeking more light when none was to be had. The possibility of Oran’s help was alluring, but he was one of them. A member of the club—a criminal—and a business associate of Lawrence Wellington. How could I possibly trust him? Telling him anything was so incredibly risky. But what other option do I have? None. I’d hit dead ends at every turn. Without access to the club or Wellington, I had no more leads. I could take a leap of faith and bet everything on Oran Byrne or continue fumbling in the dark. Neither sounded appealing. My fingers toyed with the hem of Oran’s shirt. I lifted the soft cotton fabric and brought it to my face like a pillow, cool and comforting against my cheek. It smelled like him—clean with a hint of spice. Another tear trickled down my cheek. God, I wanted to believe I could trust him. I wanted to believe some good was still left in the world. But I wasn’t certain. I’d seen so much ugly. Unwilling to entertain those memories, I scraped myself off the floor and changed into the white undershirt. I didn’t feel like hunting for makeup remover or dealing with cleaning up, so I made a quick potty stop, then crawled into the tall bed. Silence crept in around me as I tried to escape into sleep. It filled my ears with dark whispers, growing louder and louder until the silence was deafening. I wasn’t sure how long I lay there at war with myself. Hours? Days? It felt like an eternity. Long enough that my battle-weary psyche dropped her sword and fell to her knees. She prayed to a god she didn’t believe in and begged for reinforcements. As I envisioned her blood-spattered and broken, a story I once heard about a flood came to mind. A man escaped rising water by climbing onto his roof. When a boat came by and offered to help him, he refused, adamant that his god would save him. When a helicopter hovered overhead and offered escape, he declined, insistent that his god would save him. When the flood waters finally overtook his roof, drowning him beneath the debris, he asked his god why he had not come to save the man. His god asked him why he had refused to accept the help that was sent. I might not have believed in the hereafter, but I had to ask myself if I was being blind to a possible solution because it hadn’t arrived in an acceptable form.