I gestured toward all the pictures surrounding us. So many of them were taken without my consent. “What is all this?”
His gaze darted around the room before locking back on me. “It’s…a lot of work.”
My stomach clenched. His voice was so…flat. My brain couldn’t piece together what was really happening.
“You were always a hard worker, Ash,” I said, trying desperately to keep my voice steady. “But what is all of this for?”
Something in his eyes flashed, breaking through the deadpan coldness. He shook his head, letting out a brief, humorless chuckle. “For someone who prides herself on finding out the truth, I’m surprised you have no idea.”
I gritted my teeth, fighting the terror. “I guess I’m not as good as I thought I was.”
Ash sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “You are, though. You just don’t want to see it.” He stared at me; the hair on the back of my neck bristled. “This all started when you left us.”
Us.
“When I left you and—our father?”
Finally, some anger crossed his face. “There wasn’t much I could do, Skye. He wouldn’t let me leave. He wouldn’t let me go unless I promised to help him.”
“Help him?” I rasped, throat tight. What had I done? What had I let happen to my little brother? “What did he need help with?”
He flinched at those words, looking away. “Making sure you were safe. He never wanted to let you go, either.”
The words felt heavy. They plunked down to the depths of the hidden place inside my soul where I buried unwanted memories. “Where is he, Ash?”
He cocked his head to the side. “I told you, he’s not here anymore.”
I took a cautious step toward him, to gauge how he’d react. He didn’t. There was no other way out of this room but the door he was blocking. The only window had the desk and monitors in front of it.
“Do you know where he went? Is he close?”
He gave one slow blink, and my gut knotted even more. “He’s alwaysclose.”
I shook my head, getting frustrated with the way he talked in circles. “I need you to let me out of here.”
“Oh.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t do that.”
A shot of anxiety pierced me. I took another step, and this time, his eyes shot to my feet. His brow creased. “Yes, you can,” I said, trying to sound calm.
When his gaze met mine, there was pain in his. “You can’t leave me.”
Something shifted in the air. Something instinctual inside me urged me to move. To run.
My muscles coiled. Freedom lay behind the doorway. He seemed to understand what I was thinking.
He lunged for me.
I used the only thing I had to my advantage: my smaller frame. I was faster.
I juked to the right, ducking under his left arm and sprinting toward the doorway. He grunted, but I didn’t look back at him as I fixed my stare ahead. Focused on the task. I needed to get out. Out of this room. Out of this house.
I made it to the hallway, but the triumph was short-lived as something grabbed the back of my shirt. I stumbled, and a hand wrapped around my arm. I yanked away as fast and hard as I could. His nails scratched my skin, but I was suddenly free, the resistance gone momentarily as I ran farther down the hall.
I had almost made it back into the living room when his forearm wrapped around my waist. He pulled me hard against him, and I let out a scream. I flailed, using my elbows, my hands, my feet, whatever I could possibly use to kick or hit him. But he was too close, and nothing landed with enough power.
“Calm down,” he panted in my ear, winded. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“No?” I spat, using all my body weight to lean forward. He was like iron, though. Unrelenting. I barely moved an inch. “Then let me go!”
