My stomach churns.
Shit.
“Dad!”
“Hello, princess.”
Everything in me shuts down.
My throat closes.
My limbs go rigid.
For a second, I think I’m imagininghisvoice on the other line. I’d convinced myself that he is done with me. He wasn’t going to let me go just to waste his time and come get me again. Even though I’m still on edge, I know Benedikt isn’t a man who goes against his word.
His cold, possessive voice wraps around me still like a steel chain. My knees nearly buckle. The walls tilt. The floor doesn’t feel real.
My body moves on its own, forward, and I catch myself before I face-plant onto the floor.
I move to get outside, shoving the door open with my shoulder and stumbling outside into the fresh air. The phone is still pressed to my ear.
“What did you do?” I grind out, pacing the sidewalk. “Why are you there?”
“I don’t need to answer that, do I?”
“You said you weren’t going to touch him. You said I could go!”
“I never said I wasn’t going to touch your father,” he replies calmly. “I only said you could go.”
“What was the point of all this if you were just going to?—”
“Calm down, princess. This isn’t your problem.”
I cover my mouth, trying to breathe, and trying not to scream or sob. Tears rush to my eyes and blur the parking lot. I can’t see straight as a broken sob escapes my lips.
My chest is so tight that it’s hard to stand upright.
I can’t allow this to happen. I can’t stand here and let my dad be murdered.
“Benedikt,” I whimper, failing at pulling myself together. “Please don’t.”
Silence.
But I can feelhim on the other line.
Probably smirking. Maybe enjoying himself. Holding all the cards.
“Goodbye, princess.”
“I’ll do anything,” I blurt before he hangs up on me. My desperation tastes like bile and regret as I white-knuckle my grip around the phone.
I haven’t spoken to my father in more than three years, and he stopped being a part of my life long before I cut him off for good. But none of that matters when I can hear the panic in his voice. I can’t live with the thought of letting someone die when there’s a chance I could stop it.
“What do you want?” I round the far corner of the building and duck into a quiet nook between two large shrubs. The faint scent of cigarettes clings to the bricks, mixing with the sharp bite of early spring air. “I can’t… what do you need?”
“I don’t need anything.”
His voice is calm, like he’s already decided how this ends and is just letting me catch up.
