The walkway comes to a dead end, and my heart starts pounding.
He's going to kill me and leave me here where no one will ever find my body. He lied. He told them he was doing this to keep me safe, but he's just going to drain me dry to make sure the Sanctum can't get to me. I can't believe this is how I'm going to die, without even the sky to keep me company in my last moments.
He lifts his phone, leaning it against the wall, and after a click and a grinding sound, warm light assaults my senses. My hands shoot up instinctively to cover my eyes. His steps resume as he steps through the crack created in the wall, and I tiptoe in behind him. As the wall closes behind us, my eyes finally stop burning and adjust to the sight around us.
Oh.
"Not what you expected?" he asks, not looking at me as he places his coat on a rack just inside the entrance.
Unable to speak, I shake my head.
It's almost… cozy.Almost.A couple of deep brown leather couches sit before a flat wall painted the same white as the door outside. Something hangs from the ceiling, like a camera pointed at the wall.
"Projector," Eamon answers my question before I can ask it. "Much easier to transport than a TV."
While it's not warm by any means inside, it's thankfully no longer cold enough to need this monster of a coat, so I ease it off, hanging it beside Eamons as I take a couple more steps inside. A coffee table sits between the couches, covered in books and empty beer bottles.
If I keep my eyes away from the flat gray of the walls and floor, it almost looks like a normal house—one full of rugs and throw pillows to counter the lack of color and tons of lighting on the ceiling and in the form of lamps to illuminate the whole place with warmth.
To one side, there's an entryway to a kitchen; the other holds a dark hallway.
He travels to the kitchen, and I follow without any thought attached. It's not like I have a choice; what else could I do?
The deep, warm wood and concrete countertops contrast so starkly, and the black hardware and lighting create what can only be described as a man cave. Everything in this place screams masculine, from the sparse decorations to the scent. Let me rephrase: Everything screams Eamon. This whole place smells like whatever cologne he wears, with a hit of the aged whiskey in the decanter on the counter and the coffee pot sitting in the corner.
Ignoring me completely, he grabs a beer from the fridge, sits on the island, and uses the counter's edge to snap the top off. With a long, slow pull from the drink, he sighs and runs a hand down his face.
Finally, his eyes meet mine where I stand, as far from him as I can without losing sight of him.
He's waiting for me to say something, do something, but I can be a stubborn ass, too, so I raise my chin and stare down my nose at him.
His eyes sparkle with mischief and malice, and I get the feeling he could quite literally do this all day, but I'm crawling out of my skin with his gaze glued to mine like this.
"Bathroom?" I grit, just to say something and escape from the full heat of his attention.
"Down the hall, first door on your left."
I've turned and walked away before he can finish the sentence, the stomp of my boots too heavy in this quiet space. Almost comically so.
The door he directed me to is cracked open slightly, and I ease my way in, blindly reaching for a light switch. Once I find it, I allbut slam the door behind me, praying for a minute of solitude. I can't bring myself to look in the mirror, knowing what I'll find.
Instead, I sink to the floor with my head in my hands, letting the tears that have been begging to appear rain down my cheeks and jaw.
There's no telling how long I remain unmoving, sobbing into my knees at the callous way I've been stolen away from my life, my home. Just because Eamon thinks I'm in danger.
That's such fucking bullshit. Does Eamon kidnap every single person who might be threatened by the Sanctulillies or whatever?
A soft knock jars me from my thoughts. "Isla, you can't stay in there forever. Stop sulking, come on."
"I'm not sulking," I sniffle.
"Yes, you are."
"I'mnot."
A huff of laughter floats through the wood between us, "Then what are you doing?"
There's no good answer, so I ignore him, burying my head further as if I could burrow into myself and disappear.
