I bolt for the stairwell and run down three levels, listening for steps behind me.
They never come. They never come, and I am relieved. I can breathe again when I pass the second level. One more to go, and then I will be free. It is so close I can taste it. The fresh air. The escape.
I look back one last time as I fling open the heavy door. The door to freedom. But freedom is obstructed by a wall. The wall of a hard chest in front of me.
I was looking in the wrong direction. Because monsters don’t always come from the darkness.
Sometimes, they hide in broad daylight.
Chapter Nine
Before I even open myeyes, a vivid and familiar scent hits me.
Wild roses.
I am surrounded by wild roses.
They are the first thing I notice when I come to. And they are everywhere. Crimson and soft velvet perched upon delicate stems riddled with thorns.
My eyes are dry and heavy, but a tear leaks from the corner and spills over onto my cheek. I don’t want to accept my reality. I don’t want to accept that this is anything more than a dream. But the high arched glass ceilings only confirm that I am trapped in a nightmare instead. A beautiful nightmare, with stars as far as the eye can see.
It’s a conservatory. I’m in a conservatory. On a bed. Surrounded by roses and stars.
This is not a place I have ever been. And yet, it feels acquainted to me. A place from my memories.
My father used to speak of a place like this. A mansion in the forest. Moldavia, he said it was called. I didn’t know where it was. At times, I often wondered if it even existed, the way he spoke of it.
But I recognize the architectural style. I recognize the trees outside the windows. They are things that I know can’t be a coincidence. There is no doubt in my mind that I am at Moldavia. And the person who was leaving rose petals at my door all along was really Javi.
The same man who refused to meet with me.The one I was so desperate to meet before.
I wonder now if Art knew. If he knew how dangerous Javi was and he was just trying to protect me. I can’t understand it. Nothing about this makes sense.
Has it been Javi all along? Has he been the one who has watched my every move for...
I shudder to think of how long it's been.
That terror seeps into every one of my bones when I try to move and I can't. I am bound by my wrists to the bed frame.
My lungs burn with the need for air, and I can’t think. I want to scream, but I am paralyzed.
Javi murdered his own mother. That's what his file said. And now he's going to murder me too. Tears well up in my eyes and I silently curse my father, wondering why he ever brought Javi into his life. Into our lives.
With a jolt, I ride the rollercoaster of emotions. Hatred. Anger. Paranoia. And then, finally, determination.
I'm struggling to pull free from my bonds when the sound of a door echoes through the cavernous space. A draft blankets the room before I ever see the shape of him.
Even then, it is all I can see.
He stalks around the perimeter like the predator he is, remaining shrouded in darkness. His hood is up, and his head is tilted down. A wildly overgrown beard is the only unobscured detail beneath the shadow of his cloak.
The magnitude of his frame increases as he draws near, veiled in jeans and motorcycle boots. Every step is a gunshot to my ears.
My breath has gone still, and my thoughts are careening out of control.
I need to convince him not to hurt me. I need to hurt him first.
I need to escape.