Mama took me in her arms and held my quaking body to her. “Poor baby,” she said. “It’s normal to be scared of heights. But don’t worry, Seraphina. You won’t fall.”
I never did tell her the truth. I wasn’t scared I’d fall. I was scared I’d jump.
Now, he keeps his hand on my face, his eyes glinting, but doesn’t speak again right away. As I get used to the sensation of his warm skin against mine, the terror fades just enough for me to get my shit together again. I’ve never fallen apart before, not since I shook in Mama’s arms at the top of the Empire State Building, and I’m not planning to start now. I lash out, “Why did you take me?”
My voice comes out in the weird, awkward squeak that I despise, the words formed with difficulty. I’m not used to speaking. I think I must have said about twenty sentences since I was ten. This makes twenty-one.
His mouth quirks into a smirk. He studies me intently, more interested, it seems, in the sound of my voice than in the question I’ve asked.
Then he grips my chin and lifts up my head, examining me like I’m some animal he’s thinking of buying. I half expect him to open my mouth, check the sturdiness of my teeth.
Instead he lets go of me, and, forgetting for a moment the gun at my temple, I lift up a hand to massage my jaw. He squeezed hard.
I catch just a dangerous flash in his eyes before he turns away and cringe back, my heart thumping wildly. I can’t help the fear. I’m not used to it, I don’t know how to handle it. It cuts through a decade of numbness, a weird, uncomfortable feeling that squeezes my lungs.
Why are his eyes flashing like that? Is he angry I moved? Is he going to kill me now?
But his anger seems directed at someone else.
“What’s that bruise on her face?” he growls, and in the muted reflection in the window, I see Logan Colt shrug.
“She had it already. Vale’s men didn’t touch her.”
“According to Vale himself, I suppose,” says Damien, his voice full of distrust.
“He’s a Devil,” comments Logan.
Damien looks back in my direction, but his eyes aren’t on me now. He’s looking to the side, to the gun trained at my temple.
“Put that away. What do you think a skinny thing like her can possibly do?”
My fear dissolves as suddenly as it bubbled up inside me. Anger takes its place, choking my chest. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of. The moment his back is turned, I’ll show him. I’ll show them all.
The cold steel against my head vanishes. I breathe easier for amoment, but then the headache comes surging back. I find myself almost missing the gun. At least it was cold.
My eyes scan the room, looking for something, anything, that can serve as a weapon. On the desk is a pad of paper, a gold pen set, and a sleek laptop. A stapler, too. I guess that’s my surest bet, but it’s not exactly ideal.
“Well, go on, Logan,” says Damien at last, standing near the window. “You’ve got her here, do your worst.”
My hands form hard fists. I stare at them in cold resolve, daring them to do their worst. Just let them try. I’ll show them.
I guess Damien is ordering them to kill me. The minute Logan Colt stands up from the couch and heads toward me, I’ll lunge at the desk and grab the stapler. I calculate I have at least one chance of making it. The couch is about eight steps to my right. Igor is closest to me, but he seems a little… dense. Slow, at least. And Damien is now on the far side of the room, by the window.
I might just have a shot, since they seem to think I’m a quiet, weak girl. Iamquiet, but I’m certainly not weak. I’ll have the element of surprise on my side, and I’ll push that stapler into whoever’s arm tries to stop me. Their momentary shock will give me just enough time to run through the door.
And then, I’ll try very hard to scream. Alert everyone to what’s happening. I assume I’m at Devil Tower, but I can’t believe all their employees know a girl has just been abducted. Devil is supposed to be a respectable company, not a gang of criminals.
I run the scenario through my head a few times, and each time it seems less likely to succeed. But I have to try. I may drift through life like a jellyfish, but I have a polar bear’s heart.
I notice Damien staring at me, and I suddenly realize I’m smiling. I turn away, but it’s too late. He’s noticed my expression, and he seems a bit puzzled.
I’m not smiling at the idea of running away, though. Not even at the prospect of stapling one of their arms, though it is an enticing thought. I always smile when I think of my spirit animals. The jellyfish and the polar bear. Two creatures that everything opposes and yet that coexist peacefully on the cover of the old battered animal encyclopedia that is one of my few prized possessions.
I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts that I’ve all but forgotten Damien apparently ordering Logan to kill me. It all comes crashing back as he hides his momentary confusion behind a smooth, cold mask, and prompts Logan. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
I grow tense, but neither Logan nor Igor seem particularly intent on killing me anymore. Logan merely says, “Fine. Igor, give me the bag.”
The man beside me leans down and grabs something from the floor. That would be the perfect moment to escape. But I realize it a beat too late.
