Shit.
I wasn’t into sports, so no hockey stick, golf club, or even a damn tennis racket. Desperately, I dug through my bag, and I found it. A comb with a removable tail end that carried a blade.
“Sienna, open the door,” Mr. Avit’s voice came from the other side.
There was no way I was opening the door. My arm trembled as I held it out, the blade pointing toward the door.
“Sienna, if you don’t open the door, I’ll just use my key.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I tried to move toward the door, but my legs refused to cooperate, and my breathing quickened. I heard the key slide into the lock, the click echoing in the room. Then the handle pressed down, and the door swung open.
Mr. Avit stepped inside and froze.
“Sienna, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly.
“You forced me into a marriage, and you're keeping me here against my will, and I’m supposed to believe you won’t harm me? Did you suddenly get a conscience between last night and this morning?”
“I may be many things, Sienna, but I will never force myself on a woman,” he replied firmly, traces of anger in his tone.
But I still didn’t believe him.
My father had used the same tactics to lower my guard, tell me what he thought I wanted to hear, then mistreat me while claiming he was doing it for my own good. I wasn’t falling for that again.
“I…I don’t believe you.”
“I have a meeting this morning. Breakfast is in the kitchen; you must be hungry since you didn’t eat last night. Wexler will take you to class and bring you back home. You are not to tell anyone that you’re married, or that you’re my wife.” His blue eyes darkened. “If you do…me hurting your father will be the least of your worries.”
Then he walked out.
My knees buckled, and I pressed my hand to my chest, struggling to calm my racing breath. Once I regained a moment of control, I ran to the door and quickly locked it again.
I didn’t trust Mr. Avit or Wexler. But I had to get to class; an exam waited for me, and I couldn’t afford to miss it.
The truth was, if Mr. Avit wanted to overpower me at any moment, he could. Maybe on the way to class, maybe tonightwhile I slept. I closed my eyes, and tears slipped out before I could stop them. I decided I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. For now, I needed to start getting ready.
At eight-twenty, there was a knock on my door. I was already dressed in a white hoodie and gray sweat pants, sneakers on my feet.
“Mrs. Safin. It’s Wexler. Are you ready? I’m here to take you to class.”
I grabbed my knapsack. My legs felt like lead as I walked to the door. I opened it.
“Good morning, Mrs. Safin.”
“Good morning,” I mumbled.
“There’s breakfast in the kitchen. We have a few minutes to spare—”
I cut him off. “I’m not hungry.”
“Ma’am, Mr. Safin insisted you eat something since you didn’t have dinner.”
“And what are you going to do?” I snapped. “Tie me to a chair and force it down my throat? I said I’m not hungry.”
Wexler simply nodded and motioned for me to walk ahead. We made our way to the black SUV in silence. He opened the door, and I slipped inside, two guards sliding in on either side of me.
Twenty-five minutes later, we pulled up in front of the campus. Wexler turned and held out an envelope to me.
