by W Winters
“Why?” she asks me, and I don’t know how she can’t know at this point.
“I’d intended to show how willing you were to be mine to everyone who was watching. So, there would be no question where you stood in the war.”
Her eyes close and she chews the inside of her cheek at my admission, trying to keep her emotions in check. I know the truth of the situation is raw for her. An open wound. But she needs to see it all. She has to accept everything for what it is.
“Instead, there’s no question where I stand when it comes to you. I never liked Stephan. Once a traitor, always a traitor. But giving his death to you, allowing you to have vengeance? It spoke more words than I realized it would.”
Her face scrunches with the painful memory and then she hangs her head, avoiding my gaze and rubbing her cheek against her shoulder. She pushes the hair out of her face and when she speaks, she doesn’t look up.
“But you’re still going to...” She doesn’t bother finishing her question. I know she already knows. She’ll come to accept it.
“Your father doesn’t deserve what he has. He’s not half the man Romano is. And Romano is a pathetic excuse for his title. They’ll both die. Along with everyone who fights for them.”
“Please. Not everyone. I’ll do anything.” Her words are spoken with conviction and she lifts her hazels up to meet my dark gaze. “You want me to kneel at your feet? I’ll kneel.”
She still doesn’t get it. And my heart aches for hers.
“What if I wanted you to stand at my side?” I ask her, my heart racing in my chest. It’s a risk to give her more. Every time I do, she fails to cope with it. But I need her to know what I really want from her. What I desire more than anything.
“You would tower over me,” she answers.
“That’s not how it works, songbird. And it’s not what I want. You’ve only ever had broken wings, but I can show you what true freedom is.”
“You’re still going to kill my family?” she asks me as if that answer is the end all, be all.
“I’m going to do a number of things you’re going to disapprove of. You need to accept that.” My answer is hard, leaving no room for any intolerance. “I’m not a good man.”
“Is this what it would be like to stand by your side? To have no control and to simply accept what you do?” I’m surprised by her answer but eager to discuss terms.
“On some matters, you’ll never have control, and you’ll have to accept what I choose. Whether or not you want to know about them is your decision.” I know part of her despair is because she knows everything, yet she’s a casualty with little recourse.
“I’m sorry you know as much as you do,” I tell her and then almost take it back, thinking she’ll take it offensively and that’s not what I intended.
She doesn’t though. Instead, she cracks, showing me the side of her I love. The raw vulnerability.
“I don’t want this life,” she whispers, slowly pushing the art away so she can rest her head against the rug. The light from the fire licks along her skin.
“We don’t get to choose,” I remind her. I’ve told myself so many times that I wish things were different, but you live the life you’re given.
“You’re wrong,” she tells me as if she has another option.
“Do you love what I do to you? How I fuck that pretty little cunt and force you to scream out my name?” I’m crude and harsh with my question.
She doesn’t answer me, but she doesn’t have to.
“Then no, you don’t have a choice. I had a choice once. I chose wrong.”
“You’ll get tired of me,” she whispers, her eyes seemingly vacant but the depths of them harboring pain. “One day I won’t be a shiny new toy. One day, you’ll want someone to fight you and I’ll have none left in me.” Tears pool in her eyes. “One day, the idea of shoving your dick inside of me won’t interest you in the least.”
She has no idea how wrong she is. I’m only growing more obsessed with her. Breaking every rule to satisfy her.
Risking everything to heal the broken pieces of her she refuses to acknowledge.
I’ll never let her go because she isn’t a toy. She isn’t a challenge. She isn’t the fuckdoll she thinks she is and secretly loves being.
“Will you let me go then?”
“Never.”
She turns to face the fire and I whisper to her, “You’re so wrong, Aria. If you weren’t so set on hating me, you’d see.”
“You give me every reason to hate you,” she tells me. In the reflection from the mirror above the mantel, I see the fire dancing in her eyes.
She’ll never know how much her words hurt me. Or maybe she does, and that’s what she was after.
“Why are you doing this to me? Why me?” she asks me in a single breath and I offer her a singular truth in return.
“Your father set a series of events in motion,” I reply, remembering the night his men took me from the street.
I remember how the pills spilled into the gutter even as they slammed their fists against my jaw and I fell to the cold cement. With her, I only see what lies ahead. But she’s caught in the past. And that’s what will destroy us.
“So, it’s my father’s fault?” she asks me with a sadness in her eyes, as if I’ve robbed her of some fantasy.
“No, it’s mine.” My confession confuses her for a moment, but before she can say anything else, I continue.
“I thought I loved you,” I tell her with a bitter hardness that forces the words to sound violent on my tongue. Her eyes widen as she turns back and stares at me. Her stance changes to one of prey, realizing it’s stumbled into its worst enemy. The shock in her eyes fuels me to push her farther. For her to realize the man I truly am.
“For a long time after I left your home, when they kicked me back out onto the street after brutalizing me, I thought I loved whoever belonged to the sweet voice that stopped them from killing me.” Aria’s expression changes to one of fear and knowing.
I tell her to break whatever thoughts she has of love. And whatever thoughts I have of it. Weakness crushes down on me as I tell her what I used to think. What I expected this to be when I stabbed the knife into her picture and told Romano to bring her to me.
“I knew I hated your father, and eventually I hated everything. I hated you for letting me live.” Aria is silent, waiting with bated breath to see what else I’ll say.
“I’m condemned to hell. Of everyone on this Earth, God knows I deserve to burn. And it’s because I was allowed to live. It’s because of you.”
“It has nothing to do with me. My father--”
“It has everything to do with you,” I tell her, feeling the rage from the memory take over. “You’re the one who banged on the door and pleaded with your father. I was so foolish. For a long time, I thought when you were crying out, ‘I need you,’ that in some fucked up way, you were calling out for me.”
As I take another step closer to her, the wildness returns to Aria’s eyes, the fear I know and love swirls within them. Her cunt is still feeling the pleasure I give her, while her heart beats with the knowing fear of me.
“I didn’t--” she starts to protest, and I stop her.
“You’re the bird in the forest who lured the child out of safety until he fell into a black hole he could never get out of. And still, the bird sings so beautifully, taunting the child as he becomes a man of hardness and hate, stuck in a hell he didn’t know was coming. Do you know what that man dreams of more than anything?” I ask her, remembering the moment my gratitude changed to hate for the very girl who sits in front of me.
She barely shakes her head, not taking her gaze from me.
“First to get out, for the longest time, just a way to get out. But when he realizes he can’t, that there’s no changing who he is and where he’s damned to, he searches for the songbird. Eager to capture it. Just to silence the song forever. That’s why I wanted you.”
I lean forward, pinning her with my
gaze as I tell her, “Aria, that was before I held you. No matter how much you choose to hate me, I swear I’ll never let you go. You mean so much more to me than I would dare to admit to anyone.”
Chapter 48
Aria
Banged on the door.
The stove ticks with the flame licking up from the burner and I turn it to medium before setting the pot of water on it.
I can’t get over Carter’s confession.
I would never go to the half of the estate where my father does his business. My mother died on the second floor in that half of the house and I swear I can still feel her there.
Whatever he thinks happened, didn’t.
I never interrupted my father’s work or even attempted to be anywhere near his business. I never banged on the door. I never called out that I needed anyone for anything.
I wouldn’t dare.
Carter chose wrong. The woman who called out to him and saved him… she wasn’t me.
I’m not his songbird luring him into the forest. I’m not the girl he thought he loved yet grew to hate.
It was never supposed to be me.
The hollow emptiness I’ve felt since he left me there in the den all alone, is unexplainable. I should be happy; I should tell him how wrong he was to take me. I should confess that voice he heard didn’t belong to me. Instead, I swallow the dark secret down and let it choke me as I watch the pot of water boil.
“What are you making?” Daniel asks me and disrupts my thoughts. “Damn, you look like hell,” he says, scratching the back of his head. In bare feet, faded jeans, and a plain white t-shirt, he looks relaxed, but he can’t hide the exhaustion in his expression.
“Ditto,” I tell him and spoon the potatoes into the pot. I’ve already cut everything else I need to make potato salad. Now I just wait. My mother used to make the best potato salad. I swear it’s better the day after though, once it sits in the fridge for a full night.
I’m not hungry at all. I’m simply going through the motions, pretending the truth of my situation doesn’t destroy every fiber inside of me.
Daniel opens the fridge as I spoon in the last few chunks. With the door open and his face hidden from me as he reaches for something, he asks me, “Want to talk about it?”
A genuine, yet sad smile tugs at my lips.
“You want to talk about your problems?” I ask him back.
“I asked you first,” he says with a hint of humor, shutting the door and revealing a jug of orange juice.
“You sound like your brother,” I tell him absently.
“Well shit,” he tells me, pulling out a glass. It clinks on the counter as he smiles at me. “Don’t go offending me left and right there, Aria,” he jokes, and I let the small laugh bubble up although it sounds subdued and futile.
I stir the hard potatoes even though I know I don’t need to. But I completely forgot the timer, and the realization makes me lean forward to start it.
With the beep of it being set, and the numbers counting down, I take a step back and lean against the counter.
“What’d he do this time?” Daniel asks me, mirroring my position as he leans on the other side.
“Nothing new,” I tell him and the honesty in those words is what hurts the most.
The soft smile that lingered on his lips vanishes at my reply, and so I focus on the numbers, watching them as if I could speed them up if only I stare hard enough.
“Why won’t he let me leave?” I ask him in a whisper.
Because he thinks you’re someone else. Someone who saved him.
My throat dries, and my words crack as I tell him, “This isn’t right.”
It’s silent for a long while, with only the sound being the water beginning to boil again.
“Because he cares for you,” Daniel finally says, and I look him in the eyes, letting him see the real effect Carter Cross has on me.
“What a way to show it. Killing my family is just the cherry on top.” My sarcastic response makes Daniel’s expression harden.
“I have opinions of your father as well,” he tells me softly, in a tone I haven’t heard from him yet. My heart slams once and I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “I’ll keep them to myself though,” he tells me and then opens the fridge to put the orange juice back.
No doubt so he can leave me. So he doesn’t have to tolerate my self-pity.
“And what about everyone else? Everyone I’ve ever known and loved?” I can barely breathe as I push him for justification.
“If you knew the truth,” he tells me, facing me after shutting the fridge doors, “you wouldn’t blame him.” There’s so much sincerity from him, I almost question my resolve.
“It’s not just my father. So, I can, and I will blame him,” I respond despondently, although I’m undecided on whether or not I believe my own words. When I look up at Daniel, my heart races chaotically and my body freezes.
Addison walks into the kitchen slowly, glancing from Daniel to me before offering me a small smile.
I can’t breathe, and I don’t know what to do. Anxiety pricks at my skin as she takes me in. My hair is still damp from the shower and I’m wearing a sleep shirt. I know my eyes show the lack of sleep and I look like a fucking mess.
More than that, I know Addison doesn’t know who I am. She’s normal. She’s not forced to stay here like I am. Not the same way, at least.
Daniel plays it off far better than I do, wrapping his arm around Addison and giving her a soft kiss that forces her eyes back to him.
Shifting my weight, I glance at the timer and consider just leaving. I don’t know what I’d say to her if I could even look her in the eyes right now.
Hi Addison, I know all about you and I know you don’t know anything about me. I’m Carter’s whore and he’s going to kill my entire family soon, so I’m not allowed to leave. Nice to meet you.
Although that’s not quite true. He admitted I mean more to him. But it’s because he thinks I’m someone else. I’ve never felt more shame than I do right now. Every time I remember his words, I want to cry. Because he never wanted me and the moment he finds out the truth, he’ll throw me away.
“Addison,” Daniel’s voice breaks up my spiteful thoughts as he says, “This is Aria. She’s with Carter.”
She’s with Carter.
His words echo in my head as Addison smiles sweetly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and giving me a small, but friendly wave while staying where she is. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says kindly although she glances back at Daniel, no doubt wondering what’s wrong with me.
“Hi,” I offer up a single word and it croaks. I’m not with Carter; I’m against him. Except of course when I’m writhing underneath him.
“She’s having a hard day,” he tells her softly. My heart thumps in the way that hurts. The way that makes it feel like it’s a tight ball that needs air and without it, it only gets tighter.
“Sorry.” I swallow and tell her, “I’m not usually this weird.” I roll my eyes and force a huff of a laugh up to ease the tension.
“You’re not weird,” she says and shakes her head at my words. “Just looks like you’re having a hard day. That’s totally reasonable,” she adds with her hands waving out in front of her. “No judgment here.”
I get the feeling that Addison is lonely from her tone, from her awkwardness. Or maybe I’m just projecting what I feel myself.
“Let’s get back,” Daniel says and the tightness in my throat grows. At least I got to meet her, and he said I’m with Carter. It’s respectable. Well… to some. I’m sure to her it is.
“Sure,” she tells him softly, with an answer spoken so low it’s just for him, but then she raises her voice and speaks to me.
“Do you want to come with me to the gym tomorrow?”
I blink at her question. I’m surprised by it and not sure what to say.
“I just took a shower, so…” she starts to say and then rocks on her heels, wrapping her long hair around
her wrist nervously.
I don’t know if I’m even allowed to talk to her alone. Anger rises inside of me. I don’t need permission. And one day, she’ll know what I am and why I’m here. I can’t hide it forever. Then what will she think of me?
“I don’t know,” I offer her. My gaze flickers to Daniel, but he stands easily beside Addison as if nothing’s wrong. Like none of this is abnormal. The way the Cross boys do.
“Come on, we can drink wine while we do the back thing. It feels good,” she says playfully. “I don’t even like working out,” she says and then looks at Daniel as if looking for permission, but not waiting for any. “But being locked up here is killing me and it’s at least something different to do.”
I watch the happiness drain from her and the smile only staying where it is because she’s forcing it. “If you want company, I could really use some girl time,” she says softly and then rolls her eyes as the emotion plays on her face. “Sorry,” she huffs, shaking her head and leaning into Daniel as he holds her close. “I’m having a bad day too.”
“I can work out,” I tell her immediately, saying what she wants to hear just to take away her pain. I bite my lip as my heart sputters, wondering if Carter will stop me from going.
“I’m not a runner though,” I warn her, trying to lighten the mood and force a small smile to my lips.
A genuine happiness lights up her face and she nods enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah, for sure.” She laughs a little and breathes out easily, “If you ever see me running, you should start running too because there’s someone behind me trying to get me,” she jokes and doesn’t see how Daniel responds. How his lips turn down and then press into a thin line. She’s oblivious to it, but when she glances at him, he’s quick to hide it. To offer her a peck of a kiss and then tell me although he’s still looking at her, “I’m surprised she’s using the gym at all.”
She shrugs and points out, “There’s not much else to do.”
