by Stella Hart
My subconscious used to register him as an enemy; someone to be deeply afraid of. But now it registered him as a friend. A trusted companion. Sometimes a lover.
Given that, it wasn’t any surprise that I felt such a strong rush of endorphins whenever I saw him.
Also, I knew that sleeping with a man was supposed to release bonding chemicals in a woman’s brain. Oxytocin. That was exactly what was happening to me—every time I rushed to jump into Nate’s arms, my body betrayed me by releasing a cocktail of hormones that made me feel closer to him.
That’s it, then, I told myself, steeling my jaw. To rid myself of my unwanted feelings for Nate, I had to stop sleeping with him.
Something told me it wouldn’t be that easy, though.
He came out of the bathroom and picked up his clothes. “We should probably leave,” he said as he buttoned the top of his pants.
My forehead wrinkled. “You don’t want to sleep here?”
He shook his head. “We need to get home and take something to Mom and Greg,” he said. “All we left for them the other day was a granola bar, so that’s all they’ve had over the last three days, apart from water.”
“Oh. Right.” I nodded slowly. “Can’t have them starving to death.”
I stood up, put my panties back on, and smoothed my hair. Nate picked up my purse for me, and we headed out of the suite and toward the nearest elevator.
We rode down to the lobby in silence, and our drive back to the Lockwood estate was equally quiet. I was too lost in my muddled thoughts to have a conversation with Nate, and I was also afraid I’d open my mouth and accidentally admit everything I felt earlier, making myself look like a pathetic schoolgirl with a ridiculous, pointless crush.
When we got back to the estate, we parked at the front of the house. I lifted my right hand to open the passenger door, but Nate pressed a button, making the lock slide down.
I turned to look at him. “What are you doing?” I asked, heart suddenly thudding with anxiety.
“I need to talk to you about something before we go inside,” he said. He wasn’t looking at me. He was focusing on the darkness beyond the windscreen.
My forehead creased. “Oh. What is it?”
His lips twitched as if he were trying to find words that kept eluding him. Then he finally spoke up again. “I should’ve said this three days ago. I don’t know why I didn’t,” he began. He paused to rub the bridge of his nose. “I was wrong.”
“About what?”
“You. You were right about everything.” Another short pause. “Those two girls… you told me you didn’t kill them, over and over. I didn’t believe you then, but I believe you now. It was obviously the Golden Circle.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, shoulders sinking low. “I made a mistake when I took you, Lexie. A huge fucking mistake. I know I can’t ever take it back, but I wish I could.”
I thought I’d feel a rush of relief and vindication when he said that, but instead I felt hollow, as if some part of me genuinely didn’t believe in my own innocence anymore.
“We still don’t know what I did that night when your camera caught me sneaking out and coming home covered in blood,” I murmured. “Who knows? Maybe I did have something to do with it. Maybe I’m just as unhinged as you always thought, and I’m some sort of sleeper agent for the organization.”
“Don’t say that. Not even as a joke.” Nate lay a heavy hand on my left thigh. “You were right the whole time. All that shit I thought I had on you was just a coincidence. A huge fucking coincidence.”
I looked over at him. “I’m not joking,” I said. “Seriously, what the hell happened that night? What was I doing out there at two in the morning?”
“You were sleepwalking. That’s why you don’t remember. And all the blood was from your period, just like you told me weeks ago.”
“And the scratch on my face?”
“A branch scraped you when you walked past. Or maybe you scratched your own face. Your nails are pretty long.”
“What about the anti-psychotic medication bottle you found in my trashcan? The one with my name on it?”
Nate scraped a hand through his hair and sighed. “I guess it’s like you said. The pharmacist must’ve accidentally mislabeled your sleeping pills.”
My brows dipped in a frown. “It’s almost like someone was setting me up,” I murmured. “There was so much stuff against me.”
“I know. But you didn’t actually do anything. I should’ve listened to you.” Nate’s shoulders sagged again, and he slowly shook his head. “I should’ve fucking listened.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I mulled it over. Part of me couldn’t blame him for thinking I was a killer for so long. After all, I was the daughter of an alleged mass-murderer, and the evidence stacked against me was extremely damning.
Another part of me—a much bigger part—wanted to leap over to the driver’s seat and claw at Nate’s face. I told you so, I’d scream as I did it. I fucking told you so!
Nate cleared his throat, breaking the fraught silence between us. “I’m sorry, Lexie. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” he said, eyes meeting mine.
“Thanks,” I murmured. I wasn’t quite sure what else to say.
“I know you said you feel safer here at the estate with all the shit that’s going on, but I want you to know you’re free to leave if you change your mind,” he went on. “You can go home, if that’s what you feel like doing. You can go back to your classes. You can do whatever you want. You can even turn me in. I can’t say I’d blame you after all the shit I’ve done.”
I went silent for a while, staring out at the stars in the sky. “I’m not going to turn you in,” I finally said, looking back at Nate.
His brows lifted. “Why?”
I could’ve sworn there was a hopeful flicker in his eyes as he spoke, but it was gone before I could be certain.
Because a delusional little part of my brain is convinced it loves you, despite all the shit you did to me, and I can’t send you to prison as long as that part of me still exists, I wanted to say.
“Because I need your help with all of this Golden Circle stuff,” I said instead.
“Right.” He straightened his shoulders and turned his head back to the dashboard. “That makes sense.”
Even though he’d just agreed with me, I got the distinct impression that I hadn’t given him the answer he wanted to hear. The expression on his face was one of frustration and disappointment, and it made my heart compress, like someone was squeezing it with a fist.
He turned back to look at me a moment later. “I think I already know the answer to this question, but I need to ask it anyway,” he said.
I tilted my chin upward. “What is it?”
He rubbed his jaw and dropped his gaze. “Would you ever forgive me?” he asked, voice low and filled with trepidation.
Somehow, I knew that question was coming before he said it, but it shocked me anyway.
With a pounding heart, I turned my head away and bit the inside of my cheek. There were two sides of me, silently warring in my mind.
It was a misunderstanding, one side insisted.
Yeah, a cataclysmic misunderstanding, the other side replied. One that led to you being tortured for weeks and permanently scarred, mentally and physically.
It’s not entirely his fault, the first side shot back. The world he grew up in made him like this. Look at his family. His childhood.
I teetered on the edge of saying yes, I could consider forgiveness, but suddenly a single word flashed in my mind. It came from somewhere deep inside me; from a well of grief, anger, and outrage.
No.
I knew then that that was the only answer I could give to Nate, even if part of me didn’t agree with it.
What kind of person forgave something so despicable? And what kind of woman would I be if I told Nate that not only did I forgive him, I was also semi-convinced that I had some sort of feelings for him? Would I ever be able
to respect myself again, knowing that I ran right back into my abuser’s arms even though I’d been given a chance to leave? Would I even be able to look at myself in the mirror?
Also, if Nate returned my feelings, what kind of life would I be setting myself up for?
I could just imagine the stories I’d have to tell my future children. Your daddy accused me of murder, and he was sure he was right, so he took me, held me in a cell, starved me, beat me, electrocuted me, and cut me until I proved my innocence. Then we got together and lived happily ever after!
As those dark thoughts filtered through my mind, the words were out before I could stop them. “No. I can’t.”
Nate nodded slowly. “It’s okay. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to forgive me either.”
His words stabbed at my heart. I closed my eyes and rubbed at the middle of my forehead, trying to dispel the sudden ache there. “We should go inside,” I said.
“Wait. One more thing.”
I turned to look at him again, wishing my heart would stop beating so fast. “What?”
“I think I know you pretty well by now,” he said, tentatively resting a hand on my thigh again. “And you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. But I think that strength can be a double-edged sword.”
I frowned. “How so?”
“Because you want to keep it up all the time. You can’t stand the thought of being seen as weak or dependent on anyone else, and you rarely ask for help because of that. It’s your biggest vulnerability.”
He was right, of course. I couldn’t stand the thought of being seen as weak. It never occurred to me that it could leave me vulnerable, though.
“What are you trying to say?” I asked in a low voice, wishing he couldn’t see straight through me.
He lifted a palm. “I’m not saying that I think the only reason you’re refusing to forgive me is because you don’t want me to perceive you as weak,” he said, even though he’d be partially right if he thought that. “I’m just saying it as a general thing that I’ve noticed about you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to know this.” He squared his jaw and looked at me. “I won’t hurt you ever again, but with everything that’s going on right now, I’m worried someone else will. Like what happened when Greg took you. So I just want you to know… you don’t always have to be strong and independent. If you need help or support, I’m here. For anything. That’s not going away.”
“I’m staying here, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I replied. “Going home right now would be a mistake.”
He went quiet for a moment. Then he nodded again. “Okay. Good.”
Suddenly emotion was rising thickly in my throat, constricting my breath. I thought I could swallow it, but a sob convulsed me.
“What’s wrong?” Nate asked, brows drawing together as he looked at me.
“Just a cold shiver,” I mumbled. “Anyway, I really need to use the bathroom, so…”
I let my voice trail off as another sob rose in my chest. Nate nodded. “Right. Yeah.”
He unlocked the door and let me out of the car. Once the house was open, I practically ran to the nearest bathroom on the first floor.
I locked the door behind me and sank to the tiled floor. I was shaking now, tears rolling down my cheeks. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying, but I couldn’t stop it. My mind kept spinning and spinning, and the sobs kept bubbling up in my throat.
I finally managed to pull myself together for long enough to splash my face with water from the sink. The shock of the cold made me suck in a deep breath, and with that, I was able to calm myself down.
I wiped the mascara stains from my cheeks, took another deep breath, and exited the bathroom. A heavenly scent was wafting through the mansion, and I followed it until I reached the kitchen. Nate was in there, dishing some sort of French casserole into a plastic container.
If he knew I’d been crying, he didn’t let on. He simply motioned toward a drawer. “Could you grab some forks?”
I did as he said. “What’s that?” I asked, eyes lingering on the container.
“Something Colette made. I found it in the freezer,” he said. “I figured the better the food smells, the more desperate Greg and Mom will be to get their hands on it.”
I nodded slowly. “Hopefully it’ll make them talk.”
“Yeah. We have the twelve family names, but it’s not enough.”
I nodded again. He was right. Getting the twelve names on our own was a major coup for us, but it still wasn’t enough to take the Golden Circle down. We had no idea about the structure of the organization or who the most culpable family members were, and we didn’t have any solid evidence either, aside from the mausoleum tapes which only implicated Greg Lockwood.
If we couldn’t get him or Annalise to talk, our plan would become hopelessly lodged on the rocks.
In silence, we went outside and traipsed through the woods until we reached the bunker. Nate unlocked the hatch and lifted it up. Then he stepped down into the passage. I stayed a few feet behind him at his request, just in case Annalise and Greg tried anything.
We didn’t need to worry. The two of them were curled up on the ground, pale and listless. Annalise had untied herself, but she was far too weak to move after so many days without food.
When she saw us, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and leaned her back against the wall. “Please,” she rasped out. “Don’t do this to me anymore.”
I knew exactly how she felt right now. Her empty stomach would be painfully clenching and unclenching every few seconds, and the feral hunger would have overwhelmed every thought in her head.
Nate opened the food container, letting the rich savory smell of the casserole fill the bunker. “You can have this. You just need to tell us what we want to know,” he said, moving it closer so the scent wafted right under his mother’s nostrils. She reached out a shaky hand in an attempt to grab the container from him, but he snatched it back immediately. “No. You have to talk to get it.”
Greg sat up and stared at us, eyes filled with cold hatred. “Don’t tell them anything, Annalise,” he muttered, flicking his gaze to his sister. “They’ll kill us as soon as they have what they want.”
Annalise swallowed audibly. “Nate… you wouldn’t really kill me, would you?”
Nate ignored her question. “Do you want the food or not?”
“Yes. Please.”
He handed the container to me and crouched in front of her. “I’ll talk first, and then you need to answer,” he said. “We’ve figured out a few things over the last few days, and now we have the names of the families in the Golden Circle.”
Annalise’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible.”
“Tell her, Alexis,” Nate said in an icy tone, turning his head to me.
“Lockwood, Holland, Montgomery, Van Zandt, Ellesmere, Rosewell, Redstone, Goulding, Perrier, Chabert, Adamson, and Marin,” I said.
Annalise’s eyes bulged even more, and her chest began to heave. “Nate, please. You have to leave this alone,” she said, lifting her trembling palms. “I know you hate me now, but I still love you, and I can’t stand the thought of what they’ll do to you if they find out what you’re up to.”
“Are those names right?” Nate said. “I need to hear you say it.”
Her gaze dropped, and she nodded silently.
“You missed something,” Greg muttered. “Doesn’t matter, though. You should listen to Annalise and drop this. You have no idea how much trouble you’re going to get yourselves in when the others realize you’re onto them. They don’t want to go down for those murders, and they won’t let it happen. Not under any circumstances.”
Nate’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “We’re not dropping it. Every single one of those people deserve justice, and the Golden Circle deserves to rot. For the old murders and the new ones.”
Greg cocked his head. “What new ones?”
“Nessa Pratchett and Claire Reil
ly.” Nate lifted a brow. “I guess your beloved sister didn’t tell you about them, huh?”
Annalise frantically shook her head, eyes still wide. “I didn’t kill those girls!”
Nate snorted. “Bullshit. You’ve started everything up again. Alexis heard you talking to Devin Holland about it months ago. He said he’d take it to the board.”
“No. I told him it wouldn’t happen, and the rest of the board agreed. We didn’t start up anything. I swear.” She struggled onto her knees and stared up at him. “Please, Nate. You have to believe me. We didn’t kill those girls. We ended things in 2009.”
“Bullshit.”
I frowned in Greg’s direction. Something he’d said a minute ago was rubbing at me. “What did you mean before?” I asked. “When you said we missed something.”
He smirked. “Means exactly what it sounds like. You think you’re so fucking smart, but you missed something. Something huge.”
I tilted my head to one side. “So our list of names is wrong?”
“Nope. It’s right. I’ll tell you that much,” he said, lips still curved in an arrogant smirk. “But that’s all I’ll tell you.”
I turned my attention back to Annalise. “What is he talking about?” I asked, dangling the container in front of her again. “Tell me, and I’ll give this to you.”
Her eyes wavered between me, Nate, and her brother. “I think he means—”
“Don’t!” Greg roared. “Don’t tell them anything!”
Annalise’s lips clamped shut.
I yanked the food away. “I guess you don’t want this, then.”
Tears began to slide down her cheeks. “Please… I’m so hungry.”
“Answer the fucking question, and you can have that whole container,” Nate replied, staring down at her impassively.