Page 34 of Prince of Wrath

“You’re doing so great. I admire you so much.”

“Thank you,” she sighs with a reverse smile. “It’s okay, as long as we’re in good health.” She knocks twice on the wooden table near us. “When you get better, you’ll come over, right? We’ll watch something and eat greasy stuff.”

“I’d love that.”

“What are you planning now?”

“I was thinking about going back to work on Monday, but…”

“Isn’t it…soon?”

“I don’t know. I…I can’t stay here replaying everything in my head.”

“Is it safe for you to go out if the guy is still out there?”

“That’s the thing. As long as they haven’t caught him, I need to keep a low profile, I guess.”

“Or go out with this guy,” she says, pointing at Matt, who is sitting in the surveillance room, hidden behind a door in the entryway. I never hear him talk, complain, or anything.

“He’s Tristan’s bodyguard, but now he’s guarding…me.”

“And, um…” She clears her throat. “He’s not not bad-looking.”

“You like him?”

“Well, I do not not like him.” She blushes.

“Weren’t you yelling at him an hour ago?”

“I wasn’t yelling, and trust me, he seemed very happy to be where he was.” Now that I think about it, a cold, silent ex-veteran seems like an excellent match for Anja, who has enough chatter for two and could really benefit from a calm, patient, kind partner.

“He’s single,” I say with exaggerated lips.

“Really?” She looks over her shoulder with a low whisper. “I…” She loses her train of thought, which is definitely a first.

“Hey, by the way, thank you for being here and asking about me when I was gone. You’re a true friend.”

“You’d do the same for me.” She glances at her phone. “Shit, I have to go. I have a client in thirty minutes on the other side of town.” Rising, she rushes to clean and dry her glass in the sink.

“I’m not hugging you because you’re not ready, but trust me, I would if I could,” she says, blowing me a kiss. “I’m available next Monday for lunch if you’re up for it.”

“I’d love to.”

“I’ll have the kids, though. Perhaps that’s not ideal.”

“It’ll be perfect, really.”

“Okay, then I’m off, love. You take care, okay ? I have a feeling everything will be alright soon.” I offer a weak nod, resting a hip against the kitchen counter and blowing her a kiss as well. Then I watch her leave and stop by the entryway, right beside the security room door that just so happens to be open, which is enough of a sign to know that Matt is not untouched by Anja’s charm. I even hear his voice, though I can't make out what he says. Him speaking at all is quite a stretch. Anja’s laugh resounds all over the entryway, and there is even a giggle before she leaves, walking with her hips swaying side to side as Matt steps into the hall, watching her go. Stoic. One fist clenched, his eyes shooting straight to Anja’s mermaid body.

A little smile creeps in, and I welcome it before heading upstairs to shower and, I do not know, I guess start my life all over again. There is hope. There is darkness and unresolved pain and walls still standing and a long way left to go, but a new normal is on the horizon.

Tristan

A good boyfriend should not spy on his girl. A protective one, however, might find himself seated at the head of a glass-walled meeting room thirty floors above Westhaven, one hand resting beside quarterly projections and merger briefs, the other angled beneath the table with a surveillance app open on his phone. Like I said, I am not a good man, but at least I try.

Ella was at home with Anja, her friend, curled into the corner of the living room sofa in one of my sweaters, the sleeves pulled halfway over her hands and her hair twisted loosely over one shoulder. The camera view was high and discreet, mounted near the bookshelf, wide enough to show the room without invading the details of her face too closely, though even that distinction felt like a lie I was telling myself to make the watching less unforgivable. Morality and virtue are hanging by a single thread on my shoulder, alongside an appalling lack of remorse.

Anja sat opposite her, cross-legged in the armchair, leaning forward with the intense concentration of someone trying hard to follow a language she didn't fully possess. She did not sign well, but she tried, which, along with her insistence on coming all the way to the thirty-second floor to ask my brother if he knew anything about a certain Ella Brooks, told me how good of a friend she was. She watched Ella’s hands, frowned when she missed something, then offered her phone when words failed them both, allowing their conversation to move between signs, typed sentences, and lip-reading. I had no objection to Anja visiting. Quite the opposite. I believe, perhaps with more desperation than certainty, that seeing a friend who belonged to her life before captivity might help Ella remember she existed outside the orbit of trauma, doctors, guards, and my relentless need to control every variable around her. I mean, that’s what I told myself, even though the truth was far less flattering. I had been checking the feed every few minutes since I left the house. Compulsively, might I add.