Then earlier, while I was in the bathroom, I thought I heard someone enter. I had assumed it was Zaghan returning home. But when I came out, I saw no one. I wanted to lay on the bed, but there was a note there waiting for me. It had the same handwriting and the same ink as the last note. But this time, it came wrapped around a shiny golden dagger.
Now, hope was quickly obliterated, and doubt shut down my mind. The dagger wasn’t a fake one that could somehow turn out to be lipstick. It was a real one with sharp edges that would slice a skin without a thought.
With the presence of the dagger which suggested killing Zaghan–Callan, the note was definitely from someone who had a hidden spite for him. That meant they were just trying to use me in their game.
But even knowing this fact, I couldn’t help musing over the tiny part where I felt like the person really got me. He mentioned how soon I would no longer remember who I was before I met, well, Zaghan. I knew what Zaghan had desperately been trying to do to me. To awaken the darkness locked away in my mind.
Now, I was caught between my loyalty to my supposed husband and my freedom.
I took in a sharp breath, my heart pounding, a gentle throb pressing against my skull.
Maybe I should just throw the note in the fire just like I did the first one, pretending I never saw it. Maybe the person would leave me alone.
My spine straightened when I felt a shadow behind the door. Then the knob twisted.
Someone was coming.
I quickly tucked the note under my arm warmer. The dagger had been securely hidden in one of the drawers in the large walk-in closet that Zaghan assigned to me.
“I’ve been waiting for my wife to join me for dinner for over ten minutes,” Zaghan stated coldly the moment he entered in his full, suffocating glory. “Why?” he demanded, jaw flexing.
“I’m not hungry.” My voice sounded raspy, tired.
I squirmed slightly as the heavy pad of his footsteps began to echo against the floor, the distance between us thinning the closer he came to the bed. The heat of his presence overwhelmed me even before he finally appeared next to me.
I raised my eyes to meet him, and he was staring at me through the curve of his lashes, his hands in his pockets, lips in a thin, disapproving line.
“You didn’t eat breakfast,” he pointed out. “barely touched your lunch.” He gestured to the coffee table where on it, sat the tray of whatever the butler made for lunch, with a nod of his head.
“Come on, let’s go.” His tone softened a bit.
“I said I’m not–”
“–I don’t care what you said, Beth.” His voice was controlled and low, jaw working.
He snapped his eyes shut briefly, drew in air through his nose, then pinched his brows together. There was rage inside him. I could tell. It was almost like he was currently grabbing onto restraint with a white-knuckled grip. If my stubbornness stretched for another second, he would wring my neck for sure.
“Come on,” he exhaled a sigh, thrusting his right hand in front of me. “Let’s go.”
I rolled my eyes, of course, but raised my hand away, placing it gently on his. With ease, he pulled me off the bed, leading me across the room.
Silence settled between us as we headed away from the wing, arriving at the dinner table.
Captain Razzo was on the table, and so was Ophelia. The sight of that woman alone flooded me with memories that I wished I could lock away at the darkest part of my mind. My stomach lurched, and my fingers twitched, irritation brewing in my mind.
Constantly locked away in the room, I had successfully stayed away from her sight. But at dinner time like this, our encounter was always inevitable.
I used to brush off the vindictive way she looked at me as the sheer protectiveness of her brother. She hated me because she didn’t think I was good for him. I understood. Kenzo hadn’t really been in any relationships. I didn’t have any memory of much. He always said teenagers were stupid and that he couldn’t deal with them. But whenever I caught him staring too long at a guy, I always over-accessed them, trying to find a crack or a flaw. Because as far as I was concerned, no one was worthy enough for Kenzo. I thought I understood Ophelia. She was just looking out for her brother.
But what happened earlier today changed my trajectory when it came to her. I wasn’t sure if I hated her now, but I definitely didn’t want to ever be close to her.
Desperation, they said, could make you feed from your enemy’s hands–or was it hunger they referenced like that? Anyway, I didn’t know what I was doing when I left the room in search of Ophelia. I just could no longer nurse the situation of not knowing how Kenzo was doing since I left. I thought it waseasy. I always saw it in movie when people cut off the ones they loved because it was better that way. They made it look so easy. Turned out I couldn’t survive two weeks without Kenzo, let alone the rest of my life.
No matter how kind Captain Razzo was, I knew he was too loyal to defile Zaghan’s orders by doing anything that would go against his approval. So I couldn’t have asked him for his cell phone, no matter how desperate I was.
I went to Ophelia instead.
She didn’t like me. That meant she would be extremely happy if I did anything that would annoy her brother and get me punished. I was sure she would give me her cell phone.
