“I – what!?” Killian demands, “Do you need to pullthathard?”
I remain frozen in the chair, the stylists’ hands still in my hair while Killian glares daggers at her, “They’ll cut my cheque.” She says on a wobble.
With the admission, my heart cracks. “Keep going,” I urge, “Don’t worry about anything else.”
“Fuck no,” Killian snaps.
“You have no opinion on this,” I grit my teeth, turning my attention to him where he stands observing the stylist as she brushes my hair. “This is notyourdomain, notyourkingdom, it is mine. And if all you’re going to do is have an attitude and a sour face, I will ask security to escort you out.”
“You came home with a headache yesterday,” Histeeth grind.
“I always come home with a headache!” I snap at him, “Make your choice, Killian.”
We remain in a battle, eyes locked together in the reflection of the mirror. His temper shows in the way his jaw pops as he clenches his teeth, and how his hands are balled at his sides.
“Fine,” He growls eventually.
I can’t help it, my mouth ticks up at the corner, “Look at you, you can be a good boy after all.”
His eyes flare, “Watch it, Tiny Dancer.”
I challenge him in the mirror with a quirk of my brow but inside, my chest is tightening, my heart doing a little flip at the use of the nickname. He’s never called me anything other than Savannah or at a push, Savvy.
Dropping his gaze, I turn my eyes to my clasped hands as the stylist continues working on my hair, softer now but she still has to make it tight.
When I’m ready and there’s nothing left to do, I hop from the chair and make my way to the door, purposefully keeping my eyes averted from Killian. I don’t know what happened or where I went wrong but his dislike for me physically hurts something inside of my soul. I miss being his friend.
I feel him behind me as I walk the corridor to the main studio, the lights blinding as I head inside.
“Who is this?” The director snaps, his patience already at its end apparently.
“Bodyguard,” I lie, “Sorry, managers rules.”
“Has there been an issue?” He asks, seeming to rein in the aggression.
“No, but you know how it is.” With a shrug, I skip to the set, pretending like nothing is wrong. And then for the next five hours I dance.
I dance like no one is watching, like Killian isn’t at the edge of the room, arms folded across his chest, face stoic and expression impossible to read. I dance like my life depends on it because, in reality, it does. This is the only thing that is mine, it is a skill and an art I have honed to perfection. I am wanted for the art I create, and nothing will stop me.
Not even Killian or the impenetrable wall of ice he’s built between us.
Chapter Seven
There is no air to breathe.
No light.
It’s so, so dark. Everything is dark and the walls are closing in. Beyond the door I can hear the screams, full of pain and nothing else. They’retorturinghim. His cries are wet and bloody, and even as he begs, they continue.
This is my punishment.
They know they can’t hurt me anymore, not because I am untouchable but because I no longer scream. Buthescreams. And when he screams, it tears mysoul apart.
There is no escape.
“Killian!” He cries out, pleading for me to stop this. To stop the pain. But I can’t, I can’t get to him. I’ve let him down. I always fucking let him down.
“Killian!” He screams again and the walls, they’re closing in further, pressing me into an abyss that’s cold and lonely. Icy claws scrape at my skin, at the organ beating inside my chest and with every scream, they dig in further. Eventually the door is yanked open when the screaming falls silent, but I can’t tell how much time has passed. Minutes? Hours?
