There’s no way those words were a coincidence. I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t have said it if he wasn’t coming for me. He wouldn’t have said those words if something wasn’t happening by tonight.
My heart hasn’t stopped racing. My throat is tight with guilt and fear. It can’t happen like this. I don’t know exactly what he’s planning, but those are words said in times of war. Something bad is going to happen. I know it. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. It’s going to change everything.
I can do something. But I need time that I don’t have.
Pacing up and down the corridor to Carter’s wing in the estate, I try to formulate an excuse for my father or a reason that would justify Carter not reacting to my father’s threats. I can’t go into the bedroom and just wait. I refuse to simply stand by.
The conversation that was just had on the phone repeats itself over and over again in my head and I start to debate if I heard my father right.
Tension squeezes my chest so tightly I can’t breathe.
After days, my father decides to come. After weeks of me being missing, he’s finally coming for me. And there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
My hands are shaking horribly, and it does nothing but piss me off. Forming a fist, I slam it into the wall. How could he do this to me?
Both of them.
Carter’s not innocent. He knew that conversation would piss my father off. He was goading him, practically laughing in my father’s face.
And I took pleasure in it.
Every bit of that pleasure I wanted. There’s something sick and twisted about how I craved Carter pushing me to the edge while my father spat hate at him.
Carter has proven there’s a side to me that desires depravity and a sense of justice that’s sinful and warped.
I should have known better. We were playing with fire but after weeks of being with Carter, of being his, of growing to love him made me feel invincible beside him.
I’ve always been foolish like that.
Brushing the hair away from my face, I rid myself of the regret and focus on the now and the present.
I have to tell Carter, but I don’t know how I can save my father if I do. And I know it won’t be my father coming. He won’t storm Carter’s castle. It’ll be hired men, or worse, Nikolai. Telling Carter will only ensure that his guns will be ready and whoever is coming will be killed before they even come close.
“Fuck.” The word slips from my lips in a strangled breath.
I was so full of hope, so eager to have this call happen, and instead, my worst nightmare has come to life. I’ve brought the war to me and to Carter’s doorstep.
A moment of clarity comes over me, and my eyes whip open.
I start moving before the thought is even clear.
He’s not in the office. Carter is not in the office where the phone is. And I don’t remember him locking the door.
I’m well aware that Carter has cameras everywhere, and that’s why I walk as if nothing’s wrong. My shoulders are square, and I try to keep my expression impassive even though tears prick at my eyes and my chest hiccups with the need to break down.
These men will kill me before they get a chance to kill each other.
The doorknob rattles under my grip, but it turns, and the door pushes open easily. I don’t waste any time, knowing Carter will come if he sees me, and I fall to my knees, gathering the phone still carelessly tossed on the floor from earlier.
My finger shakes as I press the buttons, but I do it. I grip the phone with both hands as I hold it to my ear and watch the door. If he doesn’t know already, he’ll know soon enough.
Ring, ring.
Every pause of the ring grips my heart harder.
My throat feels as if it’s closed up, clogged by something unseen when the call goes dead. Not unanswered, but dead.
Clank! I slam the phone down over and over again, just as Carter did before, feeling the heat of anxiety roll over my skin. My teeth are clenched as I slam it down again before bracing myself over the desk.
Deep breaths. I need to stay calm and find a way.
Not another second passes. Not another tense breath heaves from me before I pick up the phone and hit redial again.
To no avail.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock on Carter’s office wall taunts me. Showing nearly fifty minutes have passed since Carter left me.
The only other number I know by heart is Nikolai’s. I don’t know if he would listen. Or if my father would listen to Nikolai. I don’t know anything for certain, but still, I dial in his number.