“Levar and I did what we had to for our family’s survival! A snake like you wouldn’t understand.”
“Please… stop it! Stop fighting!” I yell over them, clapping hands to my ears. “You’re giving me a migraine. I don’t know what’s even going on.”
“What does it look like, Nevaeh?” Ignazio sneers. “You’ve corrected your mistake.”
“My… mistake?”
Ignazio blows out an exasperated breath and gives a roll of his eyes. “You and I had a deal the night Nero brought you to the theater to perform. And what happened? You left with your brute of a husband.”
My brows knit, my mind traveling backward in time. Ignazio had made it clear his only interest was in the code I’m believed to have. He’d told me to do as he said and he’d reunite me with Mom in no time. A few short moments later, Caelian and his men had arrived and engaged in a violent face-off with Nero and his crew. I’d eagerly left with Caelian as victory was secured, and we’d made it out alive.
“You came to visit Cael and me during Christmas because of what happened at the theater?” I ask slowly.
Mom matches Ignazio’s agitation. “Of course I did. You ruined our original plan for your escape. I had to go in and get you out myself.”
“But I didn’t want to go,” I counter, shaking my head. “I didn’t want to leave Cael?—”
“Of course you did,” Mom snaps.
And then the matter’s dropped.
A silence falls over the van, where we sit swaying along to the motions on the road, listening to the outside world’s white noise through the rolled up windows. Pressure presses down on me, unbearably heavy on my chest. I roll my lips together and squash down the dissent that’s thickening inside me.
My entire life I’ve been trapped in a cage. I’ve been under someone’s possession. If not Mom and Dad’s, then it was Ignazio at the dance company. It was Caelian in our initially forced marriage.
I’ve never been my own person. I’ve never been able to make my own decisions.
The people in control have always told me to shut up and obey.
I always have. Almost unquestioningly until recently.
But as I sit wedged between a disgruntled Mom and even more disgruntled Ignazio, I find myself about to explode. My hands ball into fists in my lap and I struggle to contain the frustration bottled up inside me. How much more can a person take without any personhood?
From the time I was a little girl, I was made aware that was a luxury I wasn’t destined to have. They signed me into a contract making sure I understood someday I’d be a wealthy man’s bride. His plaything.
The angel of his dreams.
My eyes close, and I drop my face into my hands at the thought of Caelian. He had to have woken up by now; he has to know I’m gone. He’ll make himself sick with anger. His fragile heart might not be able to take it…
“I love you,” I whisper under my breath.
“What was that?” Ignazio grumbles. “Didn’t I tell you to stop fussing? Both mother and daughter are insufferable.”
Mom elbows me. “Ignore him.”
The tortuous car ride goes on for another few miles until the city skyline emerges in the distance. Dresden looms larger and more intimidating than ever the farther we drive toward it. In no way does it feel like a homecoming.
As we merge with city traffic and pass through pockets of slum neighborhoods, dread overtakes me. I’m unable to stopfixating on how quickly things have gone in a direction I didn’t want, and now I’ll have to suffer the consequences. I’m once again being used as a pawn in my family’s quest for survival.
But at what price?
We ditch the sedan several streets away, then scurry down the block ’til we find a narrow alley. Mom and Ignazio trade places leading us. Either way they always make sure to keep me in the middle. I’m never left out of their sight.
We duck under a dusty tarp that half conceals the entrance to a brick building that used to be a clothing warehouse. Wilting boxes of old clothes and cobwebbed folding tables cover the floor. Dust floats in the air and tickles my nose to the point I almost sneeze. Ignazio pivots toward a metal staircase that leads to the deserted offices.
When he turns the knob of the third door on the second-floor landing, I discover they’ve been repurposed. The desks are pushed toward the walls while the chairs have been left out as seating. A couple of sleeping bags are crowded in one corner of the room. At the window stands a telescope, positioned at the busy street outside.
But all these things pale in comparison to the man waiting for us.
