There’s that flicker on his face, the almost smile I’ve seen before.
“Do you think it’ll happen again, the night terror?”I ask, the thread of dread still dangling like it’s waiting to coil itself around me.
“I don’t know.It’s no surprise if you think about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve had a stressful few days.Your life has been threatened,” he reminds me.
“Please,” I hiss.
I’m no stranger to death threats.You don’t grow up being the daughter of a gangster without having some sort of threat hanging over you.I should be scared—most people would be frightened living this way—but I’m not.If anything, I feel coddled, stifled, and wrapped in so many layers I can’t move.I’m in fear for my life, but not in the sense the Beast is referring to.I fear what is to become of it.That it’s not my own life and never will be.
“But this is different.You’ve been moved out of your house.Cut off from your friends,” he says.
“Do you see me with friends?”I ask, glancing around the kitchen at my invisible fan club.“Who wants to be friends with the daughter of Barrett Devall?I’m not allowed to go anywhere without my bodyguards.No one is allowed within an inch of me without having undergone a full background check.And no one wants to be accidentally killed just because they were hanging out with me on the wrong day.I’ve always been alone.That’s never going to change.But don’t feel sorry for me.I’d rather have it that way.I don’t want to be responsible for someone else being hurt on my account.”
He appears to consider this.“That makes sense.”
“Do you know, when we arrived here, I was pleased.”
He raises one eyebrow.
“I thought it might be my chance to run.I could get in the Jeep and drive off, never to be seen again.”
Straightening, he puts his glass down.
I roll my eyes at him.“Don’t panic.I’m not going anywhere.But do you know why I haven’t tried to run from this sorry existence?”
He shakes his head.
“It’s not that my father would find me.Though he would, let’s face it.You can’t outrun a man like him.It isn’t even that I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, never being able to settle in one place, never being able to live the life I so desperately want.It isn’t any of those things.”
“What is it, then?”the Beast asks.
“He’d kill Willa.He’d kill Markus.He’d kill Bastian, and he’d kill you.All of you.Because you’d be the reason I got away.You’d be the people who failed him.You’d be the reason his precious daughter has vanished.It’d be your fault, and he’d make you all pay in the most heinous way possible.It wouldn’t be quick.You wouldn’t be spared.He’d take his anger out on every part of your body.He’d make an example of you.All of you.And that’s the only reason why I won’t run.”
NINETEEN
HAYAMI
PRESENT
The kitchen looksdifferent in the daylight.Gone is the glow from the under-cabinet lighting.The rain has fizzled to a misty drizzle—no rhythm upon the windows now, just an ominous presence.The whisky has been returned to the cupboard, where, hopefully, it won’t be needed again.
After we’d finished our drinks last night, the Beast took me back to my room.He checked the cupboards, under the bed, the en suite—looking for what, I don’t know, seeing as there’s no one here but the three of us.Maybe he was just on autopilot, doing his job the only way he knows how.
I climbed back into bed, the sheets cold, the air stagnant, as if there was still a wisp of what happened a few hours ago.
But what did happen?A bad dream?A night terror?Whatever it was, I hope it was a singular event.
He stood by the bed, assessing me before he looked up at the camera.I wanted to ask him to stay.Fought the urge to beg him to sit with me, to hold my hand, to tell me he wouldn’t leave—because I was terrified that I’d have to endure that night terror again.
“I’ll be watching” was all he said before leaving the room.
That was the only thing that got me to sleep.Knowing that beyond the lens, he was sitting vigil in his little room under the stairs, watching.
I scour the pantry, trying to find something for lunch with the bizarre array of ingredients.I love cooking.I learned how to in high school food tech, but I was never allowed to test my skills at home due to Leo, our chef, hissing me out of the kitchen, telling me he would not hear of me preparing a meal for myself, even if it was only a slice of toast.
