“Home,” he finally says.
A chill settles in my stomach. “Your house? And where is that? In the City? Upstate, near Eulogia?”
“Not far from Eulogia.”
I don’t know what I expected. The police? A safe house to protect me from my impending death? I don’t know, but I know I don’t want to go anywhere that belongs to him.
I don't even know if I'm in danger. I clearly must be, to have suffered the death of all four of my closest relatives in just a few short hours.
“No,” I say, shaking my head, “take me somewhere else.”
“There is nowhere else.”
“Then take me to Eulogia,” I demand, “Or to the Franklins. I’m sure Archie is looking for me.”
I open my mouth to continue complaining, but he gives me a look, just a look, nothing more, and my pulse trips over itself. He’s enjoying this. My panic, my defiance. I don’t know what’s worse—the way he stares at me like I’m his, or the way part of me wonders if I’m desperate to be.
He’s infuriatingly handsome. His stature is enormous, practically crowding me in the town car. There’s an angry look that seems almost frozen on his handsome face, full of striking features, full lips, and slightly tilted eyes.
“You have a misguided sense of ownership over me,” I protest, suddenly angry at his devastatingly attractive features and his bloated ego. The car is stuffy with his haughty demeanor.
He doesn’t respond, and all it does is make me want to sass and stomp my foot. I know it’s not worth it. I know how these men are, so I gulp my rage down and decide to use the remainder of the car ride to plot my escape from whatever hell I’m fast approaching.
I turn my gaze back to the window, watching the city disappear and allowing myself to get lost in thought about my impending imprisonment.
Is he to keep me in a cage, with only a water dish and a bowl of food, as though I'm a house pet? Am I to be forced into a room under lock and key, unable to return to my studies at Eulogia?
Minutes, or perhaps hours, slip by as the buildings shrink to nothing. Through the blur of my tears, the city lights dissolve into blurred halos, and all I feel is the pull away from the world I knew and deeper into his.
Suddenly, I am full of rage, and I swallow the tears, remembering why I was angry in the first place—control and control, from every corner.
And the worst part of all?
I crave it, I can’t exist without it, but for once I’d like a moment of my own. To breathe. To digest. To feel the horrific things I’ve just witnessed in private without the demands and expectations of a man.
I've given up the mental gymnastics of conversing with Hayden, so we're quiet until we reach the entrance of what I assume is his home. The car slows, tires crunching over the gravel drive as we pull forward down its private entrance. Beyond the gate, a towering mansion is illuminated by a haunting exterior lighting. A beast of a place, standing stark against the night, its looming facade covered beautifully in large groupings of ivy.
It’s as big, if not bigger than, my family's estate.
I swallow. “This is yours?”
He nearly scoffs, “Yes.”
“Yours alone?” I ask softly, wondering if there are parents or family inside.
“Just mine,” he bites back, showing, finally, the first sliver of emotion this evening.
It’s too much. The night, the deaths, the way I’m sitting here, letting him take me somewhere I can’t guarantee my safety. My breath shudders, my chest tight.
And while I'm hungry to run, this place is unfamiliar. I can’t possibly escape him here when the estate and its vast lands belong to him.
The car rolls to a stop. The driver moves first, stepping out to open Hayden’s door. He doesn’t move right away. Instead, he watches me for a moment longer, his fingers brushing the skull on his ring like an afterthought.
Hayden watches me, as though reading my thoughts. “Don’t run.”
My head tilts toward him, uncomfortable with how clearly he seems to see through me.
His lips curve at the edges, but his eyes are sharp, watching me.
