“You’re telling me the truth? Because if you’re lying to me, Little Sister, I swear to fuck …” He keeps looking at me, waiting for me to deny it, to tell him what a huge, silly prank this whole thing is. I wish. Oh, how I wish it were.
“I swear on Maxine’s life that I’m telling the truth.” Chasm might not understand what a big deal it is for me to say something like that, but maybe he can hear it in my voice, how goddamn serious I am. He starts cursing in Korean and raking his fingers through his hair over and over again. He asks me something that I obviously don’t understand and then rephrases the question in English.
“So you’re going to do it then?” he asks, the color draining from his face as the implications of what I’ve said finally hit him. “You’re going to ask her about this Justin guy?”
I turn away for a moment and then yelp as Chasm grabs my shoulder and uses his other hand to turn my face back to him.
“You’re not going to get my best friend killed,” he whispers, giving me a small shake. “You have to do what he says.”
Hah. What did I say? That the day I arrived here was the worst of my life? What a crock.
No. No, today definitely takes the shit-frosted cake.
I just keep staring at Chasm, blinking through the strange numbness that’s slowly taking over my body.
“I don’t know …” I start, but I can already feel it, the unfurling of those dark petals inside of me, the ones that will spread until a diseased rose is pricking my heart and bleeding me dry. I do know. I do. I just don’t want to. Isn’t it amazing the ways in which our spirits will stretch to accommodate the tricks that life throws our way?
“You damn well do know,” Chas growls, but not unkindly. It isn’t me that he’s mad at: it’s the situation. “Listen to me, Little Sister, if this guy really did kidnap Parrish, then he has us by the balls.” He pauses, thinks for a moment, adjusts his phrasing. “He has us by the balls and the ovaries. He isn’t asking much. It’s just a question, right? Is that so much to ask in exchange for our friend’s life?”
Chasm is right.
I know he’s right. I just have a terrible feeling about this. It isn’t like I’m going to ask Tess about this Justin person and bam, Parrish will be delivered to the Vanguard doorstep. There will be other requests, I’m sure. This is likely just the first of many. You don’t kidnap someone just to get the answer to a single question.
“Dakota, please,” Chasm breathes out, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes even as he grits his teeth in frustration. “Parrish was my only friend when I first came here. I didn’t speak particularly good English, and everyone was a dick to me. Everyone, even my own dad. He’s the only person that cared. My dad doesn’t even speak Korean, but Parrish does. For me. He’s come to my mom’s jesa ceremony—uh, that’s like a death anniversary—every year since we were nine years old. Let that sink in.”
“Fuck.” I shove up to my feet, running my fingers through my hair like a crazy person.
“Stop that.” Chasm takes my hands and yanks them in front of me, holding them tight in his own. When I look up at him, I can only wonder how I thought he was wearing eyeliner all this time. I mean, he does sometimes wear it, but he’s also got the thickest, darkest, prettiest lashes I’ve ever seen. Aaaaand now you’re going senile, Dakota Banks. Get it together. Chas very carefully escorts me back through the window and into Parrish’s room before turning me around and carefully combing out the knots I just made in my hair with his fingers. It’s an oddly soothing gesture. “Now, please. Go downstairs and ask Tess about Justin Whatever-his-name-is. Please.”
“Okay,” I snap back at him, on the verge of a major breakdown. I spin around to stare at Chasm. Somehow, that calms me down a bit. “I’ll do it, but then we need to figure something else out. I don’t negotiate with terrorists, Chas.”
He nods once and then steps back, opening the door for me.
It takes me a few calculated breaths before I’m able to move, but I finally convince my leaden feet to take a step. Another. Another. In less than two minutes, I’m downstairs and standing beside Tess Vanguard. She’s hunched over the table, her fingers in her hair, her eyes bloodshot and wide but staring at nothing.
“Tess.” Her name feels like it’s stuck in my mouth, that I should maybe floss to get it out. Is that how she always feels when she says ‘Dakota’? I hope not. If so, I feel for her, I really do.
“I’m sorry, Mia, but I just don’t have the energy to talk right now.” She turns away from me, and my nostrils flare with irritation. I should have sympathy for her—and I do—but goddamn it, the Mia thing is getting old.
“I was doing some Google research and I came across a name … do you know a Justin Prior?”
And there it is.
Tess’ head snaps up and she whips around to face me, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Justin Prior?” she repeats back, choking on the words. “I don’t have time for this today.” Tess shoves up from the table violently and starts off down the hall. Since my fucking stepbrother turned lover turned … whatever-he-is, is currently being held captive, I don’t have much choice but to follow.
“I just want to know who Justin Prior is, that’s it. Tell me and I’ll go away, I promise.”
Tess whirls on me then, a purple rage in her face that I’ve never seen before and hope like hell I’ll never have to see again.
“Your brother—my son—is missing, Dakota. Do you understand that? He’s missing.” She nearly shrieks the last part of this, and fuck … but I can’t blame her. Of course I can’t blame her. I went missing for fourteen years. Fourteen fucking years without a clue. And look what it’s done to us, look at it. Parrish, her real son, her true son in a way I’ll never be, he’s gone now, too.
I don’t want to do this; don’t make me do this. Please, please, please. Why is this happening to me?
“Please tell me who Justin Prior is,” I choke out, the words burning my mouth as I say them. I’m sore from the other night, and all I want to do is lie on my side and study Parrish’s face, trace his lips with my finger. We started something new and fun together, and now he’s gone, and we have so much we need to talk about … “Please.”
“Justin Prior is your father!” Tess screams back at me. I almost think for a moment that she might slap me, but she manages to control herself. Closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths seems to help, but only a little.
Personally, I’m having trouble keeping my own feet in that moment.
Did she … wait, what?
“Father?” I repeat, my stomach twisting into an impossible knot. Why would Parrish’s kidnapper want me to ask about my father? I stare at her.
“Are you happy now? Your father was a manipulator, a cheater, a liar. He abused me, Dakota. He abused you. I know you don’t remember—and that’s a good thing—but this was something you should’ve left alone.” Tess yanks a hair tie off her wrist and angrily puts her espresso waves into a high pony. “Is this what you wanted, to break me while your brother could be lying in a ditch somewhere?”
She turns around and storms off while I stand there, shaking and holding back tears. I turn my head to the side and find myself looking at the framed birth certificate, the one with Mia Patterson’s name on it. The field that says father is blank. But it should say Justin Prior.
Justin Prior … My hands start to shake as several, oddly shaped puzzle pieces shift around in my brain, forming a picture that I’d really rather not see at all.
If it weren’t for Chasm, I wouldn’t have survived that moment intact.
“Hey,” he says, padding quickly down the steps and putting warm hands on my shoulders. His amber eyes bore into mine, demanding the truth. “What happened?”
“I think …” I start, blinking and falling and spiraling into a morose mental state. I make myself look at Chasm, force my eyes to trace his perfect mouth and the studs on either side of it, stare directly into his determined g
aze. “I think the kidnapper is my dad.”
Chasm spends the night again, curling up on my bed with me. We don’t touch, not like Parrish and I did when we first slept in the same bed. It’s still nice, a warm body and a comforting presence to chase away the nightmares.
And oh, there are many.
I keep thinking about that night in the woods. If Parrish’s captor—the captor who could very well be daddy dearest—was able to get to him, then he was certainly able to get to me. Are the incidents related? Is what happened to me even real?
I spend the rest of the night awake, staring at the wall across from me and clutching my phone in my hands. Tess is too distracted to care whether Chasm is in bed with me or not, too distracted to spy on me and catch me with the phone. Maxx is still out there, looking for Parrish, but I don’t have the heart to tell him the truth.
Instead, Chasm and I both came up with excuses to skip out on the search party and stayed here. I tried calling the number back, but there was no answer. I’ve texted numerous times and still, nothing. All I can do now is wait.
I’ll give him one day, I think, squeezing the phone tight to my chest. Twenty-four hours exactly, and that’s it. If there’s no contact, I tell Tess. I tell the detectives. I blow this thing up on social media and get the word out.
Breakfast that morning is sobering and sad. It’s Tuesday, another school day where nobody goes to school except Chasm. His jaw is set firmly, a muscle in his neck ticking in anger. He’s dressed in his uniform, but he looks like he’d rather jump off a building than actually attend class. Not like he has much choice in the matter: his father called Paul to demand that Kwang-seon either go to school today or come home.
Chas chose the former.
“Your dad’s just worried about your studies,” Paul suggests, trying to calm him down. His voice is detached though, and his eyes are far away. Even good ol’ Dr. P is panicked and stressed now. Parrish has been missing for not one, but two nights. Two. That’s a long time to not hear from somebody. “You can come back over after class.”
“Yeah, sure,” Chas replies, but he’s not really listening. Maxx watches him with sympathy, buttering a piece of toast in an absentminded sort of way, like he’s physically here but mentally, he’s somewhere else entirely. He didn’t get back to the house until about twenty minutes ago. The plan is for him to eat, take a nap, and then head out again. He asked me to go with him, but I can’t. I have to stay here and watch the phone.
The thing is, I could see the disappointment in his face when I declined. He thinks I’m a monster. Maybe they all do? If they only knew … I check the time on my Tess-phone. We’re getting dangerously close to the twenty-four-hour mark, and my resolve is firm.
No contact, and I tell everyone what happened.
When Chasm gets up to head to class, he reaches out and grabs my wrist, pulling me along with him toward the front door. Maxx notices and gives us both a raised brow, but Tess and Paul are too far gone to care. Kimber notices, too, but who cares what she thinks anyway?
“If you get any messages, let me know, and I’ll be right here.” I nod, but when he goes to turn away, I end up reaching out to grab the sleeve of his blazer. The way he looks back at me, it kills me. There’s something here, something between us, and I don’t have the time or luxury to even talk about it. With Parrish missing, it doesn’t seem all that important. But it is. It’s important to me.
The sunflowers … he brought me sunflowers.
“For what it’s worth,” I tell him, looking into his amber eyes and wishing I could just fall into them, drown there, escape this place and this hell for just a few minutes. “I’m sorry.” Chasm pauses and then turns back around, reaching up a hand to cup the side of my face.
“Sorry for what, Little Sister? You don’t have anything to apologize for; this isn’t your fault.” But I’m not talking about the kidnapping, and he knows it. He rubs his thumb across my lower lip in a way that really isn’t an appropriate gesture for friends and then drops his hand by his side. We’ll talk about the sticky feelings part of this situation later, after Parrish is home safe.
Because he will come home safe. I have to believe that. I have to.
Chasm turns again and heads into the garage, starting up his sportscar and backing out. It takes him several minutes to get through the throng of reporters, and then he’s gone, heading up the winding road that leads toward the academy.
It isn’t until I’m back upstairs with my bedroom door closed that the next call comes through.
I answer right away, sitting down heavy on the edge of my bed as Parrish’s battered and bloodied face fills the screen. I could cry. I could scream. Instead, I just sit there and soak him in like it’s the last time we’ll ever see each other. The way he’s looking back at me, I wonder if there isn’t some kernel of truth in that.
“Tell me what Tess said,” Parrish breathes, like he’s struggling to get the words out. I’m not sure if what he’s saying is fully scripted or just carefully monitored by his captor. By … my dad? I don’t want to even go there, but why else would this person tell me to ask Tess a question like that? This doesn’t feel like a ‘stranger danger’ sort of a situation.
“Justin Prior is my biological father.” I’ve been repeating the phrase in my head all night, but that doesn’t make it feel anymore real. Instead, it floats through my mind like a nightmare, like that night in the woods with the needle in my neck … “Why would your captor care about something like that?” The question is virtually rhetorical. I’ve already figured out the who part of this equation.
What I haven’t figured out is the why. Most especially, I haven’t been able to figure out the where.
Where are you, Parrish? Where, where, where?
Footsteps precede a male figure, dressed in a black sweater and slacks … and a black stag mask with what I’m pretty sure are real antlers attached. The man pulls a chair up in front of Parrish, blocking him from view.
“Hello princess,” he says as I swallow hard and try to remember how to breathe. “You must have a lot of questions.”
I just stare at the man, trying to place the sound of his voice. I’ve heard that voice before, I swear. But I’m either too addled to place it or it’s a voice that I’ve only heard in passing.
“You’re Justin,” I say, because even if that isn’t the case, I’m pretty sure that’s what this man wants me to think. “You’re my … bio dad.”
The man simply folds his hands in his lap, watching me through the macabre shape of the stag mask. There must be some symbolism to it that I’m not getting, but I’ll figure it out. Give me time, and I swear I will.
“That’s true,” he starts, his voice unflappable, almost eerily calm. Behind him, Parrish groans in pain, shifting so that I can hear the chair creak. “You’re a smart girl. Not a surprise considering we share DNA.”
There’s that stupid fucking word again. DNA. The bane of my existence. Unfortunately, at this point, I can’t run from it. I can’t hide. It is what it is. The only real question here is if this man is telling the truth about who he is.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, trying to bait this guy into giving me something that I can use against him. If I tell the police that Parrish is with Justin Prior, my bio dad, could they look him up? Could they find him before it’s too late? Then again, how do I know this really is Justin Prior? Could be a crazed fan, some psycho off the streets that’s obsessed with Tess’ work.
“You’ve done well so far,” he continues, as if I haven’t spoken. “You follow instructions, but you aren’t a slave to specificity. You know how to interpret things in their own way. That sort of initiative will serve you well in life; I can only hope that your trust in Kwang-seon McKenna isn’t misplaced.”
My blood chills, and goose bumps cover my arms and legs. How does Parrish’s captor know that Chasm knows? What the actual fuck? My eyes flick to the camera at the top of my phone. It’s possible, if this guy is even a remo
tely capable hacker, that he could’ve hacked in to watch me. The thought is almost too terrifying to consider.
“Why are you doing this?” I continue, because the longer I keep him talking, the more information I can absorb. The mask he’s wearing is so unique; could I trace it to its maker? What about his sweater or his pants, his shoes? Could I find them online, pinpoint them to a specific store?
“Mia, let me take a moment to explain the rules, just so we know that we’re on the same page. It’s important for parents to keep open lines of communication between themselves and their children.” He looks right at me, stares straight through that screen and into my eyes. There’s no recognition in me, no spark of long-forgotten memory, like with Tess’ perfume.
He may as well be any stranger off the street.
“You’re deranged,” I whisper, my hand shaking as I squeeze the phone so tight that my fingers start to cramp. “If you really are my father, why kidnap Parrish and not me?”
The man doesn’t seem perturbed by my insult. Instead, he smiles.
“I always keep my promises and honor my vows. I expect you to do the same. I will never lie to you, Mia. In exchange, all I ask is that you never lie to me either.” He relaxes back in the chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands over his knee. He’s wearing gloves, so I can’t see his hands. Unfortunate. A tattoo or a scar might’ve helped offer clues as to his true identity.
“Well then, how is this for honesty? I hate you.” It’s a childish thing to say, but I can’t help it. He wants the truth? There it is. Besides, if I piss him off enough, maybe I can trick him into giving more away.
Unfortunately, my admission only seems to have the opposite effect. The man pauses, thinks for a moment, and then has the audacity to look pleased.
“I understand that, but it won’t last forever. Hate is such a useless emotion, such a waste of valuable energy.” He taps his foot against the stone floor as I study the scene, committing it to memory as best I can. Also, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him: I’ve installed an app on my phone to record the video call. It’s a smoking gun if I hand it over to the authorities. “Here’s the deal: you find Parrish Vanguard and you can keep him. You do what I say, and I keep him alive—provided you don’t break any of my rules.”
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