Page 20 of Fatal Fantasy

While I spent the last six months hunting her like an animal, she’s been right here, being forced to do God knows what, which has broken her down beyond what can be seen with the naked eye.

Imagining her living life to the fullest after destroying my family was an easy route that I took, a way to place blame where I thought it belonged, but I was dead wrong.

Hearing her desperate pleas for death, witnessing her complete lack of strength, and nearly falling victim to her end of life requests has forced my eyes wide open, to soak in the fact that she’s just a pawn in all of this, too.

Unfortunately, she and Tyson received the brunt of the violence, while I holed myself up in the name of revenge, ignoring the world around me and behaving like a vigilante, but without the right answers to questions I so desperately wanted to know.

Now, even though I only got a fraction of what I was looking for, I have to readjust my priorities, and reopen my head to the idea of Carter, again.

Of course, I never stopped loving her, but the depth of my hatred went so deep, I can’t trust myself alone with her just yet because if Tyson wasn’t lurking in the shadows, I would’ve honored her requests.

Not in the name of revenge, but to absolve her of the guilt she carries for what happened back in Jersey, as well as whatever horrors she’s lived through since returning to California.

Seeing her in pain hurts my soul, and if she asks again, I may very well put an end to the suffering she’s endured.

It takes a lot for a person to want to die, to go as far as begging to end their life, and who am I to play God or deny someone their eternal peace?

I’m not strong enough to put the gun down, to convince another person that they belong here, because somedays, I wish I wasn’t forced into this life, either.

“Key card, Massi,” Tyson says, snapping me out of my thoughts and I release Carter’s hand, digging through my pockets until I find the key to our motel room.

It’s no better than the ones I occupied in Jersey, just a standard room with two queen beds, but for now, it’ll keep us secluded while we begin the next phase of Carter’s rescue plans.

“This is never going to work, my father will find me,” she huffs, a few tears slipping down her cheeks as she flops onto the mattress.

“It’s buying us time, baby girl. We need to get you out of California, but first, we’re treating you like a hostage,” Tyson explains, and she glances up at him through her lashes, a look of confusion painted on her face.

“He’s not going to buy it. I’m the most valuable asset he has, which is why he sold my fucking hand in marriage to the highest bidder,” she argues, holding her hand in the air as she stares at the obnoxious ring on her finger.

“Exactly. We’re throwing our hats in the ring, so to speak, just long enough to make a run for it,” he says, but I interrupt, crossing the room at lightning speed to reach Carter.

“Give me that fucking thing.” I snatch the engagement ring off her finger, my abrupt movement causing her to flinch, and I’m finally seeing what Tyson meant about the fear radiating off her body.

“Sorry, Principessina, but I won’t have you wearing another man’s ring in my presence.” I tilt her chin slightly, forcing her to look into my eyes, but all she does is nod, dropping her hand back onto the bed.

“Don’t lose that. We’ll need her to seem like she’s here against her will,” Tyson warns, so I pass the ring to him, relinquishing the responsibility before I do something reckless like flush it down the toilet, or smash it with a hammer until it reduces to dust.

“Can I uh, shower, or something? I need some peace and quiet,” Carter whispers, her voice breaking with each word that leaves her lips, and I watch as she avoids eye contact with both of us.

Her overall terrified demeanor is hard for me to witness, the strongest statue I’ve ever seen crumbling before my very eyes, and it’s taking everything in me not to destroy every person who stole the fight from her soul.

“We’ll be right here if you need anything,” Tyson says, standing with his cane and opening the bathroom door while she gets to her feet.

“Thanks, Tyson. For coming back. You didn’t have to keep your promise,” she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, and before he can say anything she slips into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Whatever she’s hiding under those ridiculously hot clothes is something we’ll have to get to the bottom of, and I can see my brother thinking the same thing, both of us stuck in a place where we don’t know how to approach her.

It’s clear she’s been traumatized, abused, and whatever else he said while advocating for us to rescue her, but seeing it first hand is a whole different animal.

“I don’t even know how to begin with her, Ty. What the fuck happened to her?” I sigh, listening as the water turns on, giving us space to speak freely.

“Gently. That’s where we begin. Busting through that door and demanding answers, or forcing her to show us what she’s hiding, is only going to push her further away from reality. We popped whatever bubble she was forced to live in, and there’s probably going to be an adjustment period that follows. She thought we died, and that nobody was ever coming to save her,” he explains, using his superpower of reading her mind to find the words she isn’t saying aloud.

“You’re right, it’s just … she’s not the same, and it’s fucking killing me,” I confess, and he pulls a chair next to the bathroom door, taking a seat where he’s not too far from Carter.

It’s a small way of showing her that we’re here for her, so I copy his move, taking the other chair and plopping it beside his.

“Me too, brother, me fucking too.” We’re both silent, weapons at the ready while we let Carter have a moment of peace, something she likely hasn’t experienced in a long while.