by Ellis Marie
“My head is clear!” I say in disbelief, slamming my hands to the ground. “Why is it exactly that you want him dead? Are you that jealous?”
By the way Cam’s eyes suddenly blaze, I know I’ve hit a nerve.
“Jealous?” He laughs, his voice laced with venom. “Why would I ever be jealous of that monster and his pack that follow him pathetically?”
Pathetically?
“I don’t know, Cam. Maybe because you’re a rogue?” I offer. “Because you’ve always been on your own and struggling, and he’s there with people supporting him and he has power that you’ll never have? “
“He doesn’t deserve that power,” he hisses back, climbing to his feet abruptly. “It’s too much.”
“What is?” I cry, following suit and rising. “Why does he not deserve to lead them?”
“It’s not about that,” he replies. “You don’t get it. There are things you don’t know.”
“Then tell me!” I beg, grabbing on to his arm in an attempt to stop him from turning away from me. “Explain to me why you’re doing this because, right now, anything is better than what I’m currently thinking.”
He stops moving, taking in the desperate twitches of my face and glistening of my eyes. There’s a moment where I think he will ignore me, that he will continue out the door without another word, but then he sighs and drops his chin, his muscles seeming to unclench.
“Alphas have the ability to control people,” he says slowly. “It’s called marking; it’s usually reserved for mates to complete the bond between them during . . . mating. It’s a way to talk to each other, feel each other, and be closer to that person, but an alpha can bite anyone, and if they do, then they can manipulate you in all sorts of ways.”
Is that true? Trent has never told me that; nobody has. Have they kept it from me for a reason?
“That’s why you were so concerned if Trent and I had slept together?” I ask, shaking the questions from my head. “ Because you thought he was going to what? Control me?”
“Women have been abducted for that very reason! To try and strengthen bloodlines, to produce an heir, to commit crimes, or fall in love. It’s serious, Elle. It’s not a joke.”
Maybe there is a lot that I haven’t been told.
“That’s what you think, isn’t it? That these feelings I have aren’t real?” His silence is enough of an answer.
“But, Cam, I’m not bit,” I point out. “Trent has never even tried to do that. Not even close.”
He looks down at my neck, at the space where I know my necklace should be hanging, his eyes turning hard as he pictures it there.
“That necklace he gave you did that, didn’t it? It let him feel your emotions, let him spy on you, and be connected to you. You had no idea that it was doing anything until I told you.”
“Mrs. Grenway gave him that necklace,” I warn him, my words scratching with the agony of thinking about her and my growing anger at the disrespect he’s showing. “So are you insinuating that she was in on it too?”
“There’s always a chance. Witches have worked with werewolves in the past, and her husband was one, so maybe—”
“Don’t you dare speak about her like that,” I hiss, unable to stop the tears from slipping out my eyes as I pull back from him. “You know that all she ever did was look out for me.”
A pipe from the corner of the room seems to drip in perfect staccato, counting down the seconds that I stand trying to get a handle on the overpowering emotions that the topic is bringing up, let alone the entire situation and how I feel towards my supposed best friend.
“Look, maybe she didn’t know, alright? I’m sorry I just—” he cuts himself off with a wince. “You don’t think it was a coincidence that as soon as Trent took an interest in you, this necklace appeared and you were under his spell? That doesn’t seem like impeccable timing?”
I can sit and explain to him about the meeting with Mrs. Grenway, about the walk we took, the things we shared. I can tell him about how Trent has waited for me to feel comfortable, how he has given me time to heal and to come to terms with what has happened to me. I could describe the happiness on her face when she first met him, when she realised what we were, what he is to me, but he doesn’t deserve to hear my memories of her or know the sweet side to Trent. Not when he’s twisting everything.
I don’t want those memories tainted by his obvious disapproval.
“Do you want to know what happened the night I found that necklace?” I ask him, my words abrupt. As I speak, I feel like the acid in my stomach is creeping up my windpipe. “The night I found it, Matt came home from his weekend on Tracey’s boat.”
At my words, Cam’s eyes widen while his chest deflates as he takes in the quiver of my lip and the way I’m trying to swallow down the pain. He knows this isn’t a good story.
“Elle, wait. Listen, I—”
“No, you’re going to listen because I don’t think you quite understand what you’re doing,” I choke, my fists shaking with how tightly I have them held. “The night I got that necklace, Matt forced himself on me. He choked me, told me that if I really loved him, I’d do it. That it ‘wasn’t that hard’ and that I shouldn’t be complaining.”
I let out a shaky laugh and squeeze my eyes shut as I try to push out the memories of his sweaty body on mine. It makes me feel like there’s a layer of slime over my skin.
“So don’t you dare try to tell me that I was suddenly under his spell. I still thought that what I had with Matt was love, but he was abusing me, Cam. For years. The only time Trent has ever hurt me is by pushing me away because he thought I wanted to stay with Matt, because he had no idea what he was really like.”
My eyes turn to daggers. “The only monster I know is upstairs, and you’ve sided with him.”
“That’s not fair,” Cam bites, taking a step towards me. “I hate him. I have no intention of ever letting him hurt you. I just couldn’t have taken Trent on my own, and they approached me and told me what he was doing to you, and I just . . .” he hesitates, running over the words before he says them. “I already have a plan for us—to get away from him and your father and this place once this is over. To go somewhere that we don’t fear or feel threatened in. Somewhere you can be happy.”
He raises his hand up to my cheek, sliding against my skin delicately as he rubs his thumb, his voice turning soft. “Somewhere we can be happy.”
Hope. That’s what is in Cam’s eyes—blinding and desperate hope. The hope that I’ll change my mind, that I’ll agree, that he’s right and can save me.
I can see what he sees. I can picture the life he imagines us having and the happiness we would feel, the freedom that his plan has for us. And maybe, before all this, before I knew this world and what was really going on, I would have taken it. I would have jumped at the opportunity to leave this all behind and escape my demons.
Before Trent, maybe, but not now.
My heart breaks as I shake my head softly, cupping my hand around his wrist.
“I am happy, Cam,” I gush, my voice strained with the emotions pouring into my words. “I’m the happiest I have been in my entire life, and not just because of him, but because of everything else too.”
With a grunt, he yanks his hand away. The scowl returns to his face as he steps away from me, walking over to the door to leave.
“You don’t know the things he’s done, Elle,” he whispers through gritted teeth. “Do you think that there would honestly be any chance of me being alive if it hadn’t been for you knowing me?”
I’m grateful that his back is facing me, that way he can’t see my face and the expression that’s on it.
I don’t want to answer that question. I can’t.
“Exactly,” he mumbles over his shoulder. “That’s only the start of it. You don’t even want to know the stories I’ve heard. You can’t even begin to imagine the things he’s done and the people he has hurt. He fears himself. Should that not tell you how terrifying and
monstrous he truly is?”
Trent has shown me the parts of himself that he wanted to never see again. He told me about the images that plagued him daily, about the nightmares that he’s lived through. He let me into the parts of his mind that made him the most vulnerable.
By the time my mouth decides to work, Cam is already on the other side of the bars, the lock sliding shut behind him.
No!
“But I do know!” The words burst out of my mouth as my feet push me forward, panic settling in at the idea that I can’t get through to Cam. I need him to understand . . . to listen.
I wait for him to react, to acknowledge my words; the slight turn of his chin towards me is enough to let me know he’s listening.
“I know about the rogues, about his brother Michael,” I start, watching as Cam’s shoulders begin to straighten out and his back lengthening. “I know how much he hated what he did and how much he feared himself and his wolf. I know about his anger, his refusal to believe he ever deserved better. I know about his family.”
In my head, I can see Lou. I can picture his distraught face, his leg that will never heal. I can picture Trent’s horrified eyes, how much he must have hated himself for what he did.
I take a deep and shaking breath. “And I know about what he did to Lou.”
With my final word, Cam spins around—a mask of shock and horror slipping onto his face as he closes the space between us, wrapping his hands around the bars on either side of me. A regretful smile on his face that looks so out of place with his scrunched brow and shining eyes.
“And you say you’re not brainwashed?” he guffaws, looking around wildly. “Why else would you stay with him, knowing how dangerous he is, knowing that he has literally mauled a member of his family? How could you honestly believe that that’s not the real him? That he won’t do that to you?”
I understand what he sees. As someone who has already dealt with violent men and suffered because of them, how could I put myself with someone who had already admitted to hurting people? To killing them.
But this is Trent—my Trent. He would never hurt me. I know it.
“Because he’s my mate, Cam. You were there that day on the beach. If he was truly a monster, he wouldn’t have stopped, but he did. For me,” I say, my lips curving into a smile as I think of his laughing face and the way his eyes glowed when we woke up this morning.
“And I love him.”
I hold his eyes, watching as they turn from shock to despair to sadness. I watch as his hands loosen themselves from the bars and as his body seems to lose its fight. His shoulders dip, and the air of anger seems to puff out in a blink. He studies me, looking for a sign that I’m lying, that I’m not in my right mind.
I stand still, afraid to break his thoughts or make him think that anything I’m saying is nothing but the total truth. There’s a light in his eyes, a flicker of recognition and acceptance. Understanding.
“I told you, didn’t I, Cameron? She’s completely under his control.” It takes a second for me to process the voice.
My body knows it immediately. My legs burn as they prepare to run, my spine straightens so that my posture is good enough for him, my gut clenches as it prepares for the onslaught of insults that he might throw, but my head still denies the possibility; it begs it to not be true, to be a mistake.
I wanted us to be wrong.
It’s only as Cam changes that I understand. His eyes go from burning to apologetic, his throat seeming to close up with his appearance. As his lips part, he reaches again, desperate for me to listen to him . . . to forgive him, but I can’t.
I’ll never.
He sees the resolve in my eyes as I move further into the prison that he’s put me in, my hands shaking as I finally break our connected stare and look over to the figure standing smugly at the side. If anything, he looks better than he did before.
His hair is still long, but now, it seems to be groomed. The fact that it’s not greasy and doesn’t look as though birds live in it could give that idea on its own, but it’s the shaped beard and lack of dark bags under his eyes that change his face completely.
“Father,” I greet, patting myself on the back when I only feel a slight shake. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”
He clicks his tongue at my comment, clearly remembering that the last time we saw each other, I had smashed a vase over his head. Chuckles drift from his lips as he surveys the room, sighing as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I see you’ve still got a mouth on you,” he comments with a wicked tone to his voice. “Always a disappointment, Annabelle.”
His words still hurt. Despite the fact that he has done things to me that no father should and that I know he’s an awful person, it’s still painful to hear him repeat the phrase he has spent my childhood perfecting.
“No matter,” he continues. “For once, you’ve actually been of use to me and provided a perfect way for us to get to our enemies. Who’d have thought it? You’re the key to our success.”
The calmness that he speaks with sets alarm bells ringing in my head; he’s confident, too confident.
“You’re nothing against them,” I state, trying to ignore the goose bumps that rise on my skin and the chill that slips down my back. “They’re stronger than you could ever imagine. You can’t fool them or bully them into submission.”
Before I know it, he’s right in front of me. His venomous eyes laugh at me through the gap in the metal. As he speaks, I wait for his alcoholic breath to invade my nose, but it doesn’t.
He’s sober?
“Such a fire he’s invoked,” he hums giving me a once-over. “That belief, that power . . . you’re just like your mother.”
I know that he’s trying to pull at the strings of my heart, to kick me in the place that hurts most. His attempt to knock my confidence does nothing but fan the flame of hatred that’s been growing in my chest.
“And nothing like my father,” I retort, hardening my glare.
He has the opposite reaction to what I expect; he doesn’t get angry or throw an insulting comment back at me. Instead, he just smiles—a terrifying and dark smile that is seeping with alarming smugness.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He takes my moment of confusion to turn away from me, his voice light as he whistles at Cam who has just stood the whole time in regretful silence. He clicks his fingers, motioning for him to follow him.
“Come along, mutt,” he orders, his voice almost tranquil. “We have an important meeting to get to.”
Panic begins to fill me at his words, my heart rate picking up as I imagine him going to attack my friends, the pack . . . Trent.
“Cam, please.” I reach my hand through and grab onto his shirt, halting him as he begins to walk away. “Please don’t do this.”
“Elle, I—” His voice is strained as he glances over to the person waiting behind him. “We’re not—”
“If you’re concerned about your demonic creature of a boyfriend,” my father interrupts, throwing Cam a look of warning. “Don’t be. It’s not time to see him yet.”
Then where are they going?
I follow Cam along the line of bars trying to hold on to him. To stop him from following my father up the stairs.
“Cam, please don’t leave us here.”
“They won’t touch you. Your father made sure of that,” he mutters, pushing off my hands. “We’ll be back soon, Elle.”
“Cam—” I try again as he moves where I can’t reach him, his feet hitting the first step. “Cam, please. Cam. Cam!”
However, my words bounce around the empty concrete room with no response, the echo of them being the only indication that they were ever said.
“F*ck!” I hiss under my breath. “F*ck!”
I don’t know where they’re going or what they’re doing. They could be murdering people or planning an attack while I’m sitting here behind bars, completely useless.
My hand flies o
ut to my side and punches the wall, my frustration driving it on impulse, but when it makes contact, it does nothing but cause a piercing pain to shoot through my knuckles.
“Double f*ck!”
“Yeah, that probably wasn’t a good idea.”
Cradling my throbbing hand, I turn to face Kristie who is sitting up from lying on the ground, brushing her hands together as she takes in my shocked features.
“Yeah, hi.” She chuckles awkwardly, scratching her neck. “Is now the time to tell you that I was asleep for none of that?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“So werewolves are real.”
“Yes.”
“And Trent is the leader of a gang of them.”
“A pack, not a gang.”
“Right, right. A pack, sorry . . . And we’ve been kidnapped by hunters?”
“A group of trained ones, specifically.”
“Which happens to not only include your ex-boyfriend and his friends, but your father too?”
“Yep.”
“And they want Trent dead.”
“Apparently.”
“And Cam wants him dead because he thinks that you’re under a spell?”
“Which isn’t true. We’re soulmates.”
“Right, soulmates. Because that’s now real, and so are witches?”
“Yes.”
“And Mrs. Grenway was one?”
“And she thought you might be one,” I point out. “Just FYI.”
Kristie lets out a snort at my response, her laughter making a grin spread on my lips as she sighs and leans back.
“Now that is something I really can’t believe. Me? A witch?” She laughs.
“She said it, not me.” I shrug innocently. “Maybe she just mistook the first letters in your aura.”
Gasping dramatically, Kristie shoves me in response. Our giggles start again as we jab each other in the sides and stick our tongues out childishly.
It had taken a while for me to explain everything that Kristie has been missing over the last couple of weeks. I opt to leave out the parts that may completely terrify her and the secrets of the pack, but overall, I feel like I’ve done a pretty good job in explaining things to her.
