by Marie Wathen
He walks toward the door, his hand reaching for the handle and, inexplicably, wild anxiety roars through me. I jump to my feet and rush over to him, placing my hand over his. “Wait,” I plead. “Please, Mattox.”
He pauses a moment before turning around to face me; his eyes are as black as I’ve ever seen them. My breath catches in my throat and I drop my hold, stepping away from him. His vile glare confirms casually bumping into Wren in Paris wasn’t a coincidence and he is lying. Wordlessly, he walks away and I manage to stay awake for a long time after he leaves, but eventually the tug of sleep is overwhelming.
Through my flashbacks, I’m learning that perception is something I can control and I’m seeing things I never noticed before. Embarrassed looks by my father; worry lines etching deeply in my mother’s facial features; perceiving Breesan’s detachment as weakness instead of seeing the sheer will and true strength it took to push people out of her life; and allowing Tristan to rescue me when I should have owned my pain and fought harder by talking to someone. These are the main instances, but the worst is the way I treated Tristan during our relationship. I tested the boundaries so unfairly. Because he loved me so, he wanted to cherish me and make our intimate relationship special. Why couldn’t I see these things before? Tunnel vision kept me in a fantasy world thinking that everything was perfect. Perfect, by my standards. Reflecting is painful, and in some ways, it’s bitter sweet. I’m reliving things that I would and did choose – through hypnosis – to never remember, but if I’m being honest, these memories are doing something else besides hurting me. I’m facing the horrific, the buried hurt and the truth. Can I survive knowing everything now?
“Hello?” I think I’m desperate for human contact and am now imagining someone calling out to me. “Where am I?” A sob echoes off the dense walls followed by a strangled plea. “Help me.”
Prying my eyes open, I take in my surroundings, aware that I’m definitely still stuck in this Godforsaken pit Mattox has dumped me in. I focus on the minimal lighting and listen for any sounds coming from Waverly. A soft whimper echoes from her corner of the room.
“Waverly?” My voice is scratchy from a severe case of cottonmouth. Oh God, I hope I haven’t scared her with my screams again. “Waverly, it’s Anna. Are you awake?”
“Yes,” she whimpers again and I exhale loudly, not realizing I am waiting with bated breath for her response.
It’s been so long since she woke up last time that Tox brought an IV to pump fluids into her. I scramble up then think better of it based on her penchant to lose it. I ease my way over cautiously, treating her like a baby bird that might freak out and hurt herself if I move too quickly.
“I promise I won’t hurt you.” I keep my voice monotone. “I have food and if you feel like getting up, there’s a shower.”
Reaching her now, I notice the wetness on her cheeks and my heart breaks a little more. With my help, she showers quickly, eats a few bites of food and drinks a protein shake. I explain the need for the intravenous fluids; she accepts it easily because she’s completely unaware of everything. Everything. Waverly remembers absolutely nothing about her past and silently I cry for her loss.
“Why are you so sad?” Waverly asks timidly. Where is the bad-ass chick who threatens men twice her size and would do anything to get us out of this place? I shake my head, but her sad eyes beg me to tell her.
“Have you ever been…” my voice cracks, “…in love?” Please say yes, please.
“I…” Waverly goes silent so long that I’m not quite sure if she’s still awake. Finally she breaks the quiet. “You have?” I nod, too afraid of speaking because I can’t trust my emotions right now. They’ll betray me and I’ll hurt her by saying something cruel. Telling her something she can’t remember makes her anxious, so I refuse to push anything. Questions are safe–mine or hers.
“He hurt you.” I freeze at her unexpected statement. What could she mean by Tristan hurting me? He would never do anything to hurt me. “Do you still love him?”
Thinking about how much I miss and adore Tristan, I force down my fears to give her a verbal response, “Yes.”
“He loves you, too.” Finding hope in this hopeless place with her possibly remembering again, I move over to her and draw her hand into mine.
“He loves me?” Please remember Tristan’s name, I beg silently. Nodding she stares at our linked hands, only offering a weak smile. “Yes. Tristan loves me very much,” I tell her, watching her face for any signs of recognition. “He’s loved me for a long time.”
“Tristan is so…hot.” She laughs, and I can’t help it, I laugh, too. We giggle for several moments. I sit next to her, relaxing like a two-ton weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. She’s going to be okay.
I sigh. “Oh, I hope this is a good sign.” Still smiling like a fool, I roll my head toward her.
“A sign of what?” Oh shoot! Not where I wanted this to go. Um…what do I do now?
“I hope you thinking Tristan is so hot is a sign that he really does love me.” That was so ratchet, and there’s no way she’ll buy that lie.
“Doesn’t matter what I think.” She pulls away while shaking her head. “Why does he keep us here?”
“What?”
Her face is still and her clear-blue eyes are demanding. Her voice starts out low and controlled, but that changes quickly. “If Tristan loves you so goddamn much, why does he keep you in this hellhole, and why am I here? Can’t you talk him into letting us go home? This is all so fucked up! I can’t remember a damn thing about how I got here or who I am. I’ll bet your boyfriend has something to do with all of it. Right?”
“No! Waverly, he is not Tristan. The man who’s holding us hostage here is Tox.” Her eyebrows pull inward and pointing toward the large, bolted door, I rush with further explanation. “He’s a very bad man who took us from our families and friends, and he isn’t the one who is in love with me. Tristan…Tristan Walker is my boyfriend. Morgan’s and Marcus’ cousin…”
“Marcus?” She hisses.
“Yes, Marcus and Morgan,” I nod, confused by her hostile attitude toward them.
She freaks out, her body trembles and her words spit, laced with dread, “No. You stay away from him. He betrays everyone. He fools people, especially women, with his charm and then seduces them. Marcus is pure evil.”
Her body shakes violently, her hands clench tightly and her breathing is ramped up to an unhealthy level. I don’t understand her rant, but she must calm down. “Okay, Waverly. I’ll stay away from Marcus.” Staring at me for a long time, she slowly begins to settle down a bit. She’s still shivering, but after a big yawn, she’s nearly normal again. One last look passes between us and then she falls asleep. Waverly never wakes up again.
Chapter Nineteen
Breesan
“I’ll be over to do your hair and nails Saturday. Also, I’ll ask Kole to ride over with me so he can grab more of Julia’s boxes.” Sam tucks my new dress into the closet and spins around facing me. Noticing that I don’t respond, she asks, “You okay, Breesan?”
Chewing on my nail nervously, I drop my hand and sit on the edge of my bed. “I’m…I think I’m just a little tired.”
“And maybe missing your boyfriend.” She winks.
Realizing that is a much better excuse, I force a smile and say, “You caught me.” She laughs.
“Sorry, Hon. I can’t tell you when Marcus will be back, but the rest of us are taking shifts watching the house.” She lifts a finger to cover her lips. “This needs to stay on the down low. Rhys doesn’t know.” Suppressing the frustration, I nod agreeably. “All right, I’m out. If you need me, call or text.”
Sam leaves and a loneliness that I haven’t felt in a very long time teases my mind. The beginning of the end threatens everything now. I know what I must do, and this decision jeopardizes more than just my life. Marcus will be pissed if he discovers my actions. I hate to deceive him like this, but my prayers may be answered by a total st
ranger. I don’t believe Marcus or his team would ever agree to me meeting with this lunatic unknown-texter. I have to do it, though. Who’s the lunatic now?
Checking the front drive, I spot the unmarked car, packed with a couple of Raithe’s cop friends staring at my house, before slipping out the back door. Staying in the bushes and shadows, I jog over to Anna’s. I punch in the code on her door handle and fish out the extra set of keys from her glove compartment. With her parents out of town following leads on the human trafficking possibilities, they will never know that I borrowed her car.
God, I hope I know what I’m doing. If you have a spare angel hanging around, I could use some back-up on this one. I pray all the way through town, making my way out to the secluded lagoon. I think back to the day that Morgan drove me out here on the back of his motorcycle. It feels like a hundred years ago. After everything we’ve been through, it virtually is a lifetime ago. Neither of us are the same people we were that day. Not exactly innocent, but so far removed from the broken girl and obnoxious playboy.
I cross over the small bridge and pull the car into a spot under a coupling of palm trees. Scanning the area, I notice that my secret caller isn’t here yet.
Unless…
Tucking the keys into my pocket, I enter the park, continuing toward the woods. On the other side of the jungle-looking thicket is another parking area. After glancing back toward Anna’s car - the only vehicle on the small inlet - I take the trail that splits the center of the dark underbrush and botany-covered canopy. Through a grove off to the left, I notice movement and stop walking. My heart thunders riotously in my chest, forcing the blood to rush through my veins, and an insanely loud beating in my ears mutes out all the tropical sounds. A silhouette steps from behind a large tree, remaining within the shadows and preventing me from identifying him…or her? The shape definitely isn’t male. Approaching slowly, the woman stops ten feet away from me and with one glance at her, broken memories begin to flood my mind.
Darkness, water, stone walls, coldness, Julia…
Although, the woman standing before me is petite like me, she looks exactly like my dead stepmother and Casandria.
“Who…?” I croak nervously. She holds up her hands innocently.
“Please don’t be afraid.” Her voice is angelic like her features. She smiles and lowers her hands to her sides. “I’m sorry if I’ve frightened you. That was never my intention.”
“It was you? You sent those text messages.” She nods. “Why? I didn’t understand any of them and thought they were all accidentally sent to me.”
“They most certainly weren’t mistakes. I was hoping that the clues would inspire you to research, or trigger your memories so you could figure out everything on your own, but you didn’t pursue any of them.” She frowns and takes a step forward, but thinks better of it, stalling her approach. “I need you to believe that I won’t harm you,” she pleads softly.
Studying her, I cross my arms over my chest. “See, when someone you know confesses, like you just did, that their highly suspicious actions are harmless, it usually means they honestly want to win over your trust. And typically, I am inclined to believe them. Combining your crazy-ass text messages with this secret rendezvous, I honestly don’t believe that your intentions are in fact credulous. Who are you?”
“All three text messages were meant to lead you to someone. I’m sorry they were so ambiguous. I couldn’t afford for Julia to figure them out and she was monitoring your phone activity.” Her gaze drops to the ground in front of me and her voice lowers to almost a whisper. “I know how controlling she was. I’m sorry about her cruelty.”
“You know what she did to me?” She glances up and her eyebrows pull into a pained expression. Or is that guilt? “Who are you and what do you want with me? Why am I here?” Her lack of providing real information is making my anger rise. “Answer me!”
“This place is secluded, but it’s not private. I knew if I asked you to come to a private house that you wouldn’t show. If you’re satisfied with what I have to tell you and are willing, the next time we meet the location can be somewhere less public. I’ll tell you everything that I can, but I can’t answer all of your questions today.”
“That would be the best first question. Why can’t you tell me everything?”
“There are people who want to harm you,” she states sharply. My eyes grow wide. “And, if I give you too much information, they’ll use it against you. I won’t allow anyone to harm you,” her voice trails off softly. “Again,”
Disregarding her second attempt at apologizing with that last word, I press, “Who are you?”
“Cayde,” she states simply.
“Cayde,” I repeat, “Are you related to my stepmother.”
She hesitates. “I’m her sister.”
“Then you’re my mother’s sister, too,” I state, watching her reaction. She nods her head just the slightest while holding my eyes in an unwavering stare-down. Her muddled, light-brown eyes, encased in deep wrinkles, make me think she’s seen some bad things. She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, unfolds it and slips a picture out of the folds. Then wordlessly she stretches out her hand toward me, offering the dated and stained photo. I glance down and instantly the sting of tears blurs my vision, and as much as I need to, I can’t look away from the picture. Slowly, one fat drop rolls down my cheek.
“That picture was taken the day your father brought you home from the hospital,” she tells me, her voice hoarse. I glance up, seeing one of her hands wrapping around the front of her neck, pain etching in her features and tears welling in her eyes.
“Were you there?”
“Yes,” she sniffs and wipes the wet trail from her tan cheek. “Brendt and I…were close. He was very happy that day, more than any other day since I met him. He loved your mother and his heart was heavy for her loss, but you were his world. I’m sorry that you’ve lost so much time with him.” I stay quiet, unable to control my emotions at the moment, and hoping that she’ll freely give me the information I so desperately want. “Breesan, your mother did not die the day that she gave birth to you.” My eyebrows pinch in and I gulp hard. “Your father didn’t know the truth for many years. Julia was in on the cover-up, but your father had nothing to do with any of those lies.” She watches me, and I know she can see the tremors moving through my body. I wrap my arms around my waist tightly while biting down on my bottom lip to suffocate all the questions popping off inside my head. Could Casandria’s story be true? Did my stepmother get rid of my mother just to marry my dad? “Julia never loved your dad. Actually she never even cared for him, because she was blindly in love with a terrible monster of a man for over thirty years.” She means Dr. A. I wonder if she knows his identity. She must. Thirty years is a long time to keep someone hidden, although, Julia was successful with keeping my mother hidden for nineteen. “Together they had plans to get the money that you’ve just inherited.”
“How do you know about the money?” I whisper, choking on my sobs. My heart breaks a little for my parents, losing each other because of my evil stepmother manipulating their lives for money.
“I’ve always known, just as Julia always knew, that when you turned nineteen the trust would open, making you a very wealthy young woman.” She pauses, glancing around the area suspiciously. The questions are on the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back. Satisfied that we’re still alone in this secluded area, she continues. “Until the trust opened, no one was able to access it, including your only living relative. However, Julia was named as your benefactor if something happened to you after your nineteenth birthday.”
“The shooting,” I ask and she nods.
“There are more plans of the same, people sent to harm you and those close to you. You must stay hidden and trust no one.” I arch an eyebrow staring at her accusingly. “Yes, I understand that I’m setting a double-standard here by asking you to trust me and not anyone else, but it’s for your own good t
hat you believe me.” Now that she’s mentioned my friends, I wonder what she knows about the girls.
“Do you know where Anna and Waverly are?” She just blinks at this question so I explain, “The men who tried to shoot me also tried abducting me. They failed because I fought my attacker. The other two men grabbed my friends and fled. Do you know where they are keeping them?” I repeat.
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know where they are now. Rest assured that everything is being done to find them.”
“How could you possibly know all of this?” She shakes her head, telling me that she’s done sharing about this topic.
Uncomfortable with my question, she deflects this one and continues with her explanation that is beginning to feel rehearsed. “Breesan, listen to me very carefully,” she steps closer, glancing behind me and rushing her words. “You cannot trust anyone.” Her eyes shift to mine. “Consider every person other than your friends, to be dangerous, paid assassins working under orders to harm or take you.”
“Why?” I ask sharply and she takes a step back slowly, followed by another, and then another, like I’ve threatened her with this one-word question. “With Julia gone, who could gain from killing me?” Could Cayde be working with Dr. A, sent here to trick me into believing her? Then when she gains my trust, will she do vile things to me or my friends, too?
Cayde shakes her head, her eyes zoning out toward the parking lot behind me. “Not kill you,” she corrects, still retreating into the shadows of the natural canopy of trees.
“Does Casandria know about any of this?”
Before answering, her head jerks in a shaky motion, mimicking a wordless ‘no, and her eyes widens to the size of golf balls with fear when a flash of headlights breaks through the darkness of the pathway. Turning toward the glowing lights, I notice the car crossing the bridge and driving straight to where I parked. Uncertainty of who the vehicle belongs to, and with all the empty parking spaces they choose the space beside mine to park, sets my anxiety into overdrive. This is compounding on top of all the other bullshit happening today. I take two steps down the shadowed path hoping to get a better glance at the driver when they open the car door and one person exits.