“Lower your arms.” When she didn’t move, he said, “Anna, will you let go of the knife?”
Jaw locked, she finally looked at him. “Only when it’s embedded in you.”
He sighed, releasing her hands and rolling to his back. “Stubborn English woman.”
She scowled at him through the shadows. “Excuse me?”
“You’re difficult.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have failed Captive 101.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
She frowned and laughed at his inability to read her sarcasm. “It’s a class they teach at Hostage University.”
He met her stare and frowned. “You’re mocking me.”
“You captured me. You can’t expect me to simply give up.”
“I don’t mind a little fight. I’m not asking you to give up, just give in.”
She scoffed. “Never.”
“Never is a very long time.”
“Not when your future’s uncertain. My forever might only last until you get tired of me. What happens then, stalker?” She shouldn’t bait him, but she couldn’t resist.
“Do not push me, Annalise. You won’t like it when I push back.”
Her fingers tightened around the knife. “So long as you understand you’ll never have me without a fight. As long as I’m trapped in this miserable place I plan to make—Ah!” He was suddenly on top of her.
“Take your aim.”
His body covered her from foot to shoulder. Her arms were pinned, the blade of the knife wedged against the muscle of his chest.
“You’re crushing me.”
“No, I’m not. Relax and you’ll find you have plenty of room.”
She couldn’t relax. Nor could she stab him. Despite her empty threats, the thought of driving a knife into someone’s flesh left her woozy and weak. But if she just pushed another inch she could puncture his skin, possibly nick an artery.
“I hate you,” she wheezed.
“Then run me through. You and I both know you won’t.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
“As if you’d listen either way.”
She gave the knife the slightest nudge, only pressing it more firmly against his skin.
He arched a brow. “Do your worst.”
The challenge sapped her conviction, leaving her empty and hopeless. She couldn’t hold his stare. Her gaze lowered until her eyes practically closed with shame and he rolled off of her.
When he reached for the knife, she let go. “Your resentment wounds me more than any blade could.”
A tear trickled from her eye and the tension fled her body. He won. She couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t even threaten him. Every detail of this situation put her at a disadvantage. She would never get out of here unless he allowed her to leave.
It was then she understood that Grace had told her the truth. Let him lead you.
She needed to surrender, put aside her indignation and force of will and accept that this was her reality and the only way to escape it would be through letting go. She pictured a strong undertow, pulling her where she didn’t want to go. She fought as long as she could, but the tide wanted her to go a different way, and it would always be stronger than her. If she just let go, she could stop exhausting herself with a losing battle. She could float and regain her strength and perhaps find a way out.
After several minutes, her mind resigned to her decision and the tense anger she’d carried dissipated. Perhaps there was some truth to what he believed, and he really did need her for something. What if he was really her ally?
“If I stop fighting you, will you eventually let me go home?”
He let out a long breath and hesitated. “If you give me a few days, try to trust me, I will take you back to your apartment. I’ll let you decide.”
She frowned. “Decide what?”
“If it still feels like home. If that’s truly where you wish to be, I’ll not force you to return.”
“Swear it.”
His gaze found hers through the shadows. “I swear my life on it.”
She chewed on her lower lip. The solution stared her in the face, but that last step wasn’t one she could undo. She forced the words out before she overthought her decision.
“Fine. You win. I’ll go along with this so long as you keep your promise not to hurt me and take me home in a few days. Days. Not a week.”
“You have my word.”
She should get it in writing, but in a land beyond the law that probably wouldn’t matter. She literally had to trust him, and she hated it. All the anger she felt for him transferred to her.
She blew out a breath, the uncertainty and suspense ripping her insides to sheds. “Well, go on.”
“Go on?”
“Do it. Get it over with.”
“Get it over with?”
She huffed. “Isn’t that what you wanted, me to act like some obedient puppet?”
He scowled. “No.”
She gaped at him. “Then what? I’m trying here, but you aren’t telling me what you want. How am I supposed to do the right thing if you don’t—”