by Monica James
“Willow! Stop it!”
Sara’s rattled voice cuts through my panic. However, I can’t stop, even when she latches onto my arm to halt my motion. I am suddenly possessed, blinded by my self-loathing.
“I can’t!” I shrug her off me and continue swinging the cleaver, each strike claiming back a small piece of my integrity. “I need to get out of here.”
“You’ll wake the house. Please. Stop.” Her whispered pleas are filled with so much fear, alerting me to how selfish I am being.
I’m not just endangering myself. If Alek found the journal, if he knew Sara had been helping me, he would punish her and ensure Saint was found and dealt with in the most painful way possible.
Tears of anger stream down my cheeks because I am furious for being so fucking weak. “I don’t hate him, and I should,” I mumble in a jumble of hysterical words. “Saint wants to kill him, but the thought of him d-dead…it doesn’t sit right with me. What’s the matter with m-me?”
The cleaver tumbles to the floor with a defeated thud as I wrap my arms around my middle and curl in on myself, ashamed. I don’t deserve Sara’s comfort, but she gives it to me anyway.
“Shh, nothing is wrong with you,” she whispers into my ear, drawing me into her arms. “Alek has a way of making you question everything. That’s what a master manipulator does. It’s just one more night. Saint is coming tomorrow.”
This human contact, one most would take for granted, centers me, and my heart rate begins to slow.
“You will be rid of this place soon enough. It’ll be okay.”
I stay cocooned in Sara’s arms, allowing her to comfort me even though I don’t deserve it. “How can I feel…sorry for him?” I whisper, needing someone to tell me I’m not crazy.
“Because you’re not a monster,” she replies softly, rubbing my back.
“But after everything he’s done, how can I feel any kind of empathy toward him?” I don’t understand any of this, and the only person who can explain it to me is god knows where, trying to set me free.
“I wish I could answer that question, but I don’t know. But if it makes you feel any better, I understand.” Wiping away my tears, I gently pull from her embrace so I can look at her.
She timidly brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “After everything he’s done to me and Hans, I still can’t hate him.”
“Why? What power does he have over us?” I don’t understand.
“Because when you have so little, something small means so much, and in our case, that something small is kindness. Like a starving dog, waiting under the table to get thrown a scrap, we are thankful when we are shown any kind of mercy.
“Alek is our tormentor, but he’s also the person who can make the pain go away. He is cruel, but when he’s kind, he makes you forget how malicious he can be.”
Saint said something similar long ago.
“What have I become? Before all this, I used to be a…saint.” That word holds so much meaning to me, and it has nothing to do with my religious childhood.
Sara frowns, weighing my response. “Well now, you are a…fallen saint. But unlike a fallen angel, you were never given a choice to sin.”
Her analogy appeases me somewhat.
“We need to get out of here.” Now more than ever.
But when Sara lowers her eyes and tugs at her bottom lip, I grab her wrist. “He’s coming for you too.”
She shudders. “The possibility of freedom scares me.”
I wait for her to explain.
“What do I have out there anymore? A family who forgot about me, that’s what. The only person who cared about me is dead. I’m fighting so hard to break free”—she sniffs softly—“but nothing awaits me on the other side.”
“Don’t say that. Anything is better than here. We are getting out of here. Together,” I add because I mean every word.
A ghost of a smile plays over Sara’s lips, and maybe, even if it’s a mere second in time, she believes it. “Saint really cares about you. I’ve never seen him with anyone the way he is with you. It gives me hope that someone will look at me that way again.”
When tears stream down her cheeks, I’m the one to console her, and we sob together for our lost innocence. But hopefully one day soon, we’ll find it again.
Day 74
I’VE DONE THIS countless times before. Dress in fancy clothes. Paint my face. Ensure not a wisp of hair is out of place. But this time is different because when I shed my skin, my future will be changed forevermore.
Once this silken garment pools at my feet, will it mean I am free? Or will the outcome have me wishing to never disrobe again?
Sara arranges the tiara in my once again long hair, thanks to the extensions she painstakingly clipped in. “You didn’t have to put in the extensions. I’m happy with the way my hair is.”
I peer at Sara’s reflection in the mirror I’m sitting in front of, wondering what’s going through her mind. She’s a lot quieter than usual.
“But thank you, Sara. Thank you for everything.” I reach for her wrist as she adjusts the hairpiece. “I suppose our hair looks a little alike now.”
She instantly averts her gaze while biting her bottom lip. The gesture has me raising an eyebrow, and I get the feeling she’s hiding something.
“You look beautiful,” she says, changing the subject as she slips from my hold.
“What will you wear?” I ask as she’s still dressed in her ratty maid’s outfit. I wish she’d take something from my closet. She can have it all.
“I’m not invited,” she replies, avoiding eye contact.
“That’s bullshit,” I cry, turning over my shoulder to look at her.
“I don’t have anything to wear anyway.” She tugs at her white apron, ashamed.
“Sara,” I chastise. “You can wear anything from my wardrobe. You know that. I insist.”
I attempt to stand, but she shakes her head. “I couldn’t stomach being in the same room with those monsters anyway. I’d rather stay up here.”
I don’t press because I can’t blame her. If I had a choice, I’d join her. But I don’t.
Inhaling, I look at my reflection. I shooed away the makeup artist Alek sent to glam me up. I refused to be dolled up because to do this, I have to be as comfortable as I can be in my own skin.
My eyes are dusted with a shimmer and winged with a black liner. My cheeks are rosed. My porcelain skin boasts red lips. It’s simple, but the rubies in my ears and hair are enough.
In what feels like another lifetime ago, I paraded clothes and jewels like this without a second thought, but now, all of this feels so…superficial. So insignificant in the greater scheme of things. So much will change if—no, when—I leave this place.
A knock sounds on the door, rapping in time with my heart. I know who it is, but that doesn’t make what I’m about to do any easier. Sara squeezes my shoulder in support. I place my hand over hers, unsure when I’ll see her again.
“Tonight is our night,” I whisper, nodding in assurance.
She swipes away a stray tear.
Coming to a slow stand, I examine my full reflection, wishing I didn’t look how Alek wanted me to. But there is no denying that, coupled with the elaborate dress, opulent jewels, and monster heels to make me stand tall, I look like a queen.
And when another knock sounds at the door, it’s clear the king doesn’t like to be kept waiting.
“Tell me it’ll be okay.” I inhale deeply, hoping it’ll help with the nerves.
Sara smiles, but the gesture is so bittersweet. “Saint is coming. Of course, it will be.”
Turning, I give her a tight hug, unsure what the circumstances will be when I see her next.
I will never be ready for what tonight holds, but when I think I’m as ready as I can be, I break our embrace and make my way toward the door. When I open it, Alek stands before me, looking immaculate in a tailored tuxedo that accentuates his defined body.
His fresh cologne wraps m
e in a bubble of citrus and pine. His slicked-back hair highlights his strong features and full lips. He too looks the part of royalty, and when his steel blue eyes float up to the tiara in my hair, he makes it clear he’s glad I relented to his request.
“You look…stunning.” His pause isn’t for effect, and the fact he appears to actually mean it has me shifting uncomfortably on my feet.
The commotion below hints our guests are arriving by the droves.
I close the door behind me, leaving Sara inside as it’s safer for her in there than it is for her out here. I make an attempt to move, but Alek stops me when he reaches into his suit jacket pocket.
“It wouldn’t be a masquerade ball without this.” He produces a beautiful white mask, decorated with shining diamonds and lace. “May I?”
The mask offers me a sense of anonymity, so I nod.
He walks behind me and positions it over my eyes. I hold the edges in place as he gently ties the ribbon in a bow. Once it’s secured, he walks back around to face me.
“боже мой.” When he sees my confusion, he quickly reveals what he just said. “My god, you really are an angel.”
A hollowness sinks low because Saint called me that. Having Alek say it is…unsettling. However, when he slowly brushes away a stray piece of hair from my cheek, his fingers lingering, that feeling multiples tenfold.
Before I have a chance to recoil, he lowers his lips to mine and…kisses me.
The shock of feeling his warm mouth move against mine leaves me standing motionless, too dumbfounded to move. He caresses my lips with his before gently pulling away. Every part of me retches in disgust.
“I know you don’t feel that way for me yet, but I hope, in time, you will.”
That won’t be happening in this lifetime. Or the one after that.
I watch as Alek dons a mask of his own. When it’s settled over his face, I can’t help but think how fitting the gold wolf mask is because he is just that tonight—a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Shall we?” He offers his arm, and I peer down at it.
My chest begins to rise and fall as I am unsure how to get through the night without having a heart attack. I have no idea what I’m walking into. Saint hasn’t divulged what he has planned, but he hasn’t let me down before. I know he would have sent word if something was wrong, so I just have to have faith.
With that thought, I slip my arm through Alek’s and allow him to lead me down the stairs. With each step we take, I can’t shake this ominous feeling that we’re both stepping into the unknown, which is ridiculous. But something sinister lingers in the air. I can feel it.
And when we descend the staircase and are greeted by a sea of faces, some friendly, mostly scowling, it just heightens the sensation that both Alek and I are in trouble. However, he doesn’t seem to be in tune with my premonition because he saunters down the last step with confidence.
He doesn’t release my arm as he greets a couple hidden behind extravagant Venetian masks. I scan my surroundings with my heart in my throat because I wonder if Saint is already here. He said Oscar was the key to get him past the guards standing post at the front door.
I notice a line of elegantly dressed people, waiting to walk through what appears to be metal detectors. These are new.
“Your safety is my only concern,” Alek whispers into my ear as he must notice me staring at them.
If he thinks I’m afraid of guns, knives, and whatever other weapons his guests are inclined to, he’s wrong. The only thing that scares me is standing right beside me.
The guards attach tags to the barrels of guns before they place them into a divided shelf behind them. It’s all so orderly and how most would have a cloakroom for coats; Alek just has storage for weapons instead.
Once the gun is stowed, they give the patron their ticket and wish them well.
The house has been transformed into a baroque-themed paradise with music to match. The debonair outfits also complement the vibe. The women are dressed in elegant dresses in all shapes and colors. No expense has been spared. The men are either decked out in tuxedos or fine silk suits.
Everyone hides behind their mask, which gives them an air of ambiguity, and will lead to scandal and mystery, no doubt, as the fine champagne runs freely throughout the night.
Alek leads me through the throngs of people. At a guess, I would say there are about a hundred guests here. He greets most, ensuring I stay by his side. He doesn’t introduce me, which I find strange, but he reveals why a moment later.
“We’ll greet our guests in the ballroom, which is where I will announce you. I want all eyes to be on you so you get the attention you so deserve,” he whispers into my ear.
“I’d rather stay incognito,” I reveal, meaning every word.
But Alek won’t have it. “Nonsense. You’ve earned your place by my side. Besides, you’re the guest of honor. All these people”—he sweeps his hand outward—“they’re here to see you. Not me.”
“I don’t feel comfortable doing this.” My voice is uneven.
He stops walking and turns over his shoulder to look at me. We are standing in the middle of the room, but Alek doesn’t care. “This really leaves you unsettled, doesn’t it?”
“Of course, it does,” I reply without thought.
Alek shakes his head as he continues staring at me in awe. “You surprise me every single day. When I have”—he clears his throat and toys with his bow tie—“introduced other…women, they haven’t minded. But you, you are so different. You truly are unlike anyone I have ever met before.”
His comment has me wondering just how many women he’s introduced. This is completely Zoey’s scene as I can just imagine her parading around in her extravagant dresses and jewels, proud to be hanging off Alek’s arm.
“All I ask is for one dance and then you can retreat to your room until—” His abrupt pause clues me onto what he intended to say. Until he exploits me in a room full of perverts and sick human beings.
I can’t keep the horror from my face.
“дорогая—” But he is interrupted by a voice which turns my blood cold.
“Aleksei, my dear friend. Your home looks absolutely charming.”
Both Alek and I turn to see Oscar pushing through the crowd to greet us. He looks impeccably dressed in a black suit with red velvet lapels, and his mask is a simple black design. My skin suddenly prickles in awareness, and I know it has nothing to do with Oscar and everything to do with the man who stands by his side.
The crisp black tuxedo hugs the man’s refined frame. He is towering and imposing, and my heart skips a beat when I meet his eyes. Although his mask, which is separated into black and white halves, is full length and covers his face, I know without a doubt the masked stranger is not a stranger at all.
Those eyes, those hypnotic green eyes belong to Saint.
How can I not recognize him? Our first few weeks together played out similar to this. Him hiding behind a mask while I attempted to uncover what he was thinking.
An intake of breath escapes me as I try to compose myself. But seeing him does something to me, and my hands begin to shake. Saint’s intense gaze burns a hole straight through me, and the need to run to him overwhelms me.
But as Alek peers down at me, taking note of my strange reaction, I rein in my desperation. I need to keep my head in the game.
“Oscar.” Alek is curt as he addresses his so-called friend. When he looks at Saint, tilting his head to the side, I hold my breath. Is our ruse up?
Alek offers his hand. “Hello, Dominic.”
I exhale in relief.
The corded veins at Saint’s throat strain as he begrudgingly takes the offering. I can only imagine how hard it is for him not to snap his wrist.
“Dominic has taken a vow of silence until further notice,” Oscar explains, looking at me with a smirk. He so knows I’m in on their little secret. “That’s what happens when servants don’t behave. Maybe you should follow the example, A
leksei.”
The smug jibe has the desired effect as Alek rips his hand from Saint’s, glaring at Oscar. But he won’t make a scene in front of his guests. “If you’ll excuse us.”
He doesn’t wait for Oscar to speak and escorts me away, fuming as he mumbles obscenities under his breath. I can feel Saint’s eyes following my every move, but he refrains from acting out because tonight is all about timing.
Apart from Saint’s eyes, I can’t shake the feeling that someone else watches me. But who?
“You’re shaking,” Alek says, leading me toward the corner of the room. “I know seeing Oscar and Dominic after what happened is beyond traumatizing for you. I’m sorry. I should have revoked his invite!” The true anger in his tone surprises me.
A waiter zips past us, carrying a tray of champagne flutes. Alek stops him and reaches for two glasses. “Here, this will help take the edge off.”
“I’m going to need a lot more than one glass.” Nonetheless, I accept and gulp down the sweet liquid in one mouthful.
It’s impossible not to seek Saint out because I am drawn to him. When we lock eyes across the room, I realize staying away from Saint is going to be nearly impossible. He calls to my very existence.
Even though he wears a mask, he reeks of fury. Oscar, on the other hand, appears causal as he leads Saint around the room like a trained poodle. It’s his dream come true to have Saint at his beck and call. I can’t help but feel guilty because he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.
Saint nods subtly, a silent assurance that he’s here and he won’t let anything happen to me.
“Let’s get this over with.” Alek’s irritated tone snaps me into the now as he leads me into the ballroom. His good mood has been dampened.
A flurry of excitement exists in the ballroom as people take their position, more than ready to have the festivities formally commence. I gape around at the sea of people, unbelieving that so many corrupt individuals exist.
I’m unsure who the official members of The Circle are. Surely not all of them. I can imagine Alek would invite your “nobodies” not to rouse suspicion and to fall in their favor. To the innocent, we are simply celebrating Alek’s new bride.
