Willing Captive(61)

One of the men comes closer, nodding. His gentle eyes pull me in. “Okay, honey. Get down from the bed and we’ll go for a little walk around, alright?”

My shoulders slump in relief. Thank God, he understands.

Taking his hand, he helps me off the bed. And just when I smile up at him, something jabs me in the thigh. Snapping my head around, the other man pulls the syringe from my thigh and nods to the other man.

Son of a bitch!

The effects of the drug work fast. My vision blurs. Feeling lightheaded, my hold on his hand weakens, and I slur, “You tricked me.”

The man holds me tightly, and the last thing I remember is him whispering into my ear, “I’m sorry.”





***





I wake with a start, the vision of the safe house going up in flames fresh in my mind.

My father stands from the chair he was sitting in, and Mom—frazzled and tired looking —rushes over to the bed, clearly distressed. Putting her knee on the bed, she crawls over the covers to me and hugs me ferociously.

This is so unlike my mom that it startles me.

I hear all the time that daughters are usually close with their moms, but I never was. My dad kept me so close to him that Mom got tucked away in a corner. Feeling her body shake against mine, I wrap my arms around her, and breathe in her familiar scent. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m okay.”

Her voice cracks, “I was so worried. My baby all alone and scared.” She squeezes me tighter. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her hugs. She repeats on a whisper, “All alone and scared.”

I hold her and stroke her hair while I keep my eyes on dad. My brain, needing someone to blame, picks him. The easiest target.

Releasing Mom, I pull back from the hug as Dad approaches. Holding a hand out, I say, “Don’t.”

He stops mid-step, and I watch his face fall. My normally handsome Dad now looks exhausted. Fisting the sheets of the bed, I tell him through gritted teeth, “You should’ve told me. I would’ve never found out if Nox hadn’t given in and told me.”

Dad’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Lily girl.”

My eyes match his tear-for-tear. I sniffle through quivering lips, “It won’t bring him back to me.” Suddenly furious, I lean forward and hiss, “I deserve to be happy. And I was happy with him!”

Understanding dawns on my father’s face. Mom grips my hand tightly.

Dad responds quietly, “Oh, Lily. I didn’t realize you’d—oh, darling. I’m so sorry.”

The anger melts away. Dipping my chin, I whisper, “He was it for me. We were meant to find each other.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dad opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Mom squeezes my hand again. “Tell me what you need, honey. Anything. I want to help.”

The anger returns with a vengeance. “You think a cup of cocoa will fix this?” My parents wear matching expressions of sadness. It just peeves me off even further. I screech, “You think a sandwich or a f*cking cookie will fix this?”

Mom starts, “Baby, I-”

Looking away, I order, “Out.” Mom stops talking. I repeat, “Get out.”

We sit in silence for a minute before my parents, obviously hurt, stand to leave. When I hear them move towards the door, I call out, “I want Terah. Bring me Terah.”

I need my sister.





***





Seven hours later…





Tired, sore, and seriously pissed off, I roll my eyes when I hear a faint knock at the door.

I’m tired because of the sedatives they’ve been feeding me. I’m sore because my forearm, knees, and forehead are torn to shreds. And I’m pissed off because I want to go home where I can mourn the death of my boyfriend in peace. I bark, “What?” before turning to the door.

At the sight of my equally tired sister, I gasp. She offers a small smile, then asks, “Can I come in?”

Not trusting myself to speak, I nod and she walks over to me. Climbing onto the bed, she sits close to me, sitting up. Her arms open to me. I look at her through glossy eyes before I sink into her, resting my cheek onto her chest.

Terah rocks me gently, placing soft kisses on top of my head.

So many thoughts drift through my head, but regardless of how many there are, they always come back to Nox. A sob bursts out of me.

Then another.

And another.

Terah coos, “I’m so sorry, kid. I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

She rocks me as I cry openly and freely for well passed an hour. Finally calming, I ask, “Where’s Jett?”

Her body stiffens at his name. No doubt Jonathon told her about what his plan was. After a moment’s silence, she says, “Gone, sweetie. They both are.”

Taking a moment for that to sink in, I realize I’ll be mourning for more than one person today. “How?”

Terah’s voice hitches, “Jamie was found in the apartment. Two gunshot wounds to his chest. Jett got too close to the explosions at the safe house you were kept at. He bled out on the back lawn. Jon said he had glass shrapnel all over his body. A shard of glass pierced his stomach.”

Sounding a little too indifferent, she states, “Jon said it would’ve been a painful way to die.”