I took a deep breath as if about to make a speech, “I have a project due tomorrow and need to work on it.”
I actually did have a project. To make a light bulb. Kenzo would make it, of course. And it wasn’t due until next Wednesday.
“No, you can’t.” His reply was curt, sharp like the edges of a blade.
That spiked something bitter at the pit of my stomach, the taste crawling up only to settle on my tongue…a tangy, sharp thing.
“I’m sure I have a choice.” My fingers clenched on my thigh, but I didn’t raise my voice. “I’d rather go home.”
“You’re not going home,” he stated again, like this was a law I mustn’t dare to question further.
I didn’t know why I suddenly got so triggered and irritated. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was my period coming. Or maybe I just got fed up with how he kept pushing me around, forcing his rules on me.
Why wasn’t Callan trying hard enough? Why was he so comfortable sitting there and letting this annoying version roam freely?
Had he really been smothered by him? Was he actually gone for good? Then what was really the point of sitting here? I didn’t want this thing sitting next to me. He was cruelty personified, a devil camouflaged in designer clothes. He was reckless andlacked warmth. The only reason I wanted to stick around was because I was waiting for Callan. If he wasn’t coming back, what was the point?
“Hey.” My burning eyes cut sharply to the driver, tapping the back of his seat. “Please, turn the car around.”
The soldier whose face I had barely registered, glanced at me through the mirror, hard cobalt eyes lacking the littlest of emotion, sending chills down my spine. But that didn’t make me waver.
Perhaps my next move was what truly made me appear like a kid throwing a tantrum. I leapt out of my seat, slithering through the crack between the driver and passenger seat, my fingers curling around the wheel, forcing it to stir in the opposite direction.
The tyre skidded, scraping the asphalt, a sharp sound hissing through the air.
Then suddenly, a yelp tore from the back of my throat when a cold hand wrapped around my neck from behind, the force so cathartic it ripped my fingers off the wheel, swinging me backward until my back hits the leather of my seat.
Before I could dare to recover from the whiplash of the fleeting force, Zaghan’s hand had moved from my neck, my jaw now being crushed beneath the weight of his fingers, sharp nails digging into my soft flesh. He was hurting me…and smearing my concealer.
His eyes were the darkest I had seen them, a storm that promised nothing but destruction roaring in their depths.
“Maybe we haven’t really met…” His breath was harsh against my lips. “But let me tell you, I won’t give a damn about how hard you scream or how loud you beg. I will break your pretty little neck if you tried this stunt you just pulled now ever again. Do you get it?”
My lips parted for words but all I could produce was a gentle nod.
“Put that pretty mouth to use.” His nails dug deeper into my flesh. “Do you hear me?!” His voice was a guttural roar that shattered every ounce of confidence and bravery left in me.
I agreed. That was a stupid move.
“Yes.” So timid was the whisper, I doubted he heard it.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his finger loosening from my jaw, his palm patting my cheek gently.
What a psychopath and a douchebag!
Without another word, he settled back on his seat, his hand lifting to loosen his tie.
???
Arriving at the Callan’s guesthouse brought back memories, memories that made me smile yet made my chest tighten. I didn’t want to be here if it wasn’t with Callan. So I sulked, blocking out the world around me as I reluctantly followed him into the building.
Then suddenly, the phone in my hand vibrated with an incoming call. I glanced at Zaghan, but he was way ahead of me, lost in his own phone, so I decided to answer the call before heading in.
Releasing my arms from across my chest, I checked the caller’s details.
Rowan.
Bad timing.
