The elites won’t call this a misunderstanding. They’ll call it retaliation. Add in the fact that they were already hunting us because of Kylie, and it’s clear shit has hit the proverbial fan.
Not only did I kill two more of their gofers, I took from an important elite. Damien Snow believes Blair is his, and I’ve stopped that. To him, to them, I’ve stolen something they believe is rightfully theirs.
They won’t ignore that. They won’t forgive it.
And the irony of it all? Blair Windsor doesn’t even want to be here.
But I’d rather she hate me than be dead.
If I could do it all over again, I’d do worse if I needed to. For her.
That realization settles deep in my chest like a promise.
This war isn’t theoretical anymore.
It’s here.
And I just lit the match.
Blair
His name is Kane.
And though he might look similar, he isnothinglike the fantasy man represented by my doll.
He’s domineering and preachy, and every time I question the insane choice to kidnap me, he plays it off like he’s some kind of savior.
As if his behavior isn’t bad enough, he’s not alone in this charade either. I don’t know how many other people are here, but I know no one told Kane he was acting like an insane person. No one tried to assist me. No one tried to remove me from his shoulder and help me escape.
Which makes them, at the very least, complicit.
Now, he’s carrying me up a flight of stairs like I weigh nothing, like I may as well be a freaking jacket made out of feathers. He moves down a hallway, the heavy sounds of his boots echoing inside my ear with each step, and he doesn’t stop walking until we’re in a small, depressingly rustic room.
When my eyes catch sight of a bed, fear clutches my throat. He drops me onto it, and my body hits the mattress with a gentle thud.
Instantly, I scramble upright and put as much distance between him and me as I can, my body shaking at thoughts of the worst. I’ve already lost my autonomy; I can’t lose my virginity too. Not like this.
“Why are you doing this?” I scream, the sound tearing out of my throat so hard it aches. “What do you want from me?” My voice is so loud and so real that it bounces off the walls.
For a split second, I sit there in shock. Earlier, in my driveway, and when we came into the house, I was trying to yell so hard that my throat burned, but there was no sound. And now it’s back.
He turns calmly, shuts the door, and I don’t miss how the metallic lock clicks deliberately into place. I’m overwhelmed and terrified, and I know without a doubt that I have nothing to lose. It never gets better from this point on when I watch crime shows—it gets messy and violent.
“You cannot lock me in here!” I shout, jumping off the bed and storming toward him. “Do you know who I am? Do you understand the mistake you’ve made?”
“Yes, I know who you are.” The calm in his voice makes me want to throw something. “But this wasn’t a mistake. This was necessary, Blair. For both of us.”
“I was supposed to be in New York!” I yell. “I was supposed to be meeting someone very important. I was supposed to—”
“I know what you think you were supposed to be doing,” he cuts me off. “But it’s bullshit. It’s not the truth at all.”
“You don’t know anything!” I scream, moving toward the door with the confidence of a woman free to walk through it, but he blocks me off completely by putting his big, intimidating body in my way.
I shift on my feet and head toward the window. I try to pull it up, and when it doesn’t budge, I look for a latch or a switch, but there’s none to be found. Still, I yank harder on it, as if maybe I can just tear the damn thing from the wall.
But when nothing happens, I turn to face him again. He’s infuriatingly calm, like he didn’t just kidnap me after committing murder.
“You are insane!” I spit, turning back toward him. “This is psychotic!Youare psychotic! You can’t just keep me here against my will!”
