Tied (Devils Wolves Book 2)

by Carian Cole

  He chews his bagel and swallows. “That’s because she told Lizzie, a few years ago, you were an angel in heaven. Lizzie thought you were dead, and now here you are, alive and well.” He says it matter-of-factly, without easing into it.

  “What?” My muffin sticks in my throat, and I sip some of my latte to try to force it down. It’s so sugary sweet, it gives me a momentary jolt. “Mom told her I was dead?”

  “Yeah.” He looks like he can’t believe it himself.

  “You’re dead, little girl. Dead, dead, dead. You don’t even exist.”

  “But…why? Did they have any reason to think I was dead?” I ask. It never even occurred to me, while I was gone, that my family would assume I was dead. I always believed they would keep looking for me until they found me.

  Zac shakes his head. “No…there was nothing that ever hinted at that. No evidence at all. Your friend ran home and told her mother what happened, and she called nine-one-one. Everything happened so fast. But you disappeared without a trace. In her panic, Sammi didn’t notice what the guy looked like, or his car. She’s always felt really guilty about that…we’ve talked a few times over the years. You should maybe contact her. She would probably love to hear from you.” I had never even thought to contact my childhood friend who had run off while the man dragged me into the car, and I’ve never wondered how she felt about it. “Unfortunately, no one saw anything, even though you two were right in our neighborhood. The leads dried up pretty quickly. It just seemed hopeless. And so I think, for Mom, it was easier to say you had died than to tell Lizzie you were kidnapped and missing. That’s scary for a little girl to hear.”

  “I lived it, Zac. It was scary for me.”

  “Holly, I know that.” He leans forward. “But Mom is just…in denial about a lot of things. She always has been. She can’t deal with reality.”

  I push the other half of my muffin across my plate, my appetite gone. “No wonder Lizzie stares at me all the time.”

  My brother takes an uneasy pause. “Mom’s very overprotective of her. She had a total meltdown after you were taken. For months, all she did was lie in bed and eat Valium. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was pacing all over the house or walking up and down the street. She didn’t start to act normal again until she got pregnant and Lizzie came. Lizzie totally distracted her from everything and, in some ways, that was good—but bad in a lot of ways too. She put herself in denial about what happened to you and projected all her love and happiness onto Lizzie. She barely lets her out of her sight.” He lets me absorb that for a few minutes before continuing. “And Dad just thrust himself into his work. Our whole family fell apart. Nothing has ever been the same.”

  I shouldn’t feel jealous that my mother is trying to protect Lizzie from something bad happening to her, like what happened to me. But I do. A mix of envy, jealousy, and anger simmers deep in my stomach. “I don’t even know what to say,” I finally tell him, not wanting my emotions to come vaulting out of my mouth in the middle of this quiet café.

  “They feel guilty, Holly. They blamed themselves for a long time. Still do. What parent wouldn’t?”

  Does blame and guilt make you wish your child was dead instead of missing? Was that actually easier for them to cope with? My bottom lip quivers. “I think they wish I never came back. Maybe me being dead would have been better for them. For all of you…”

  Zac’s eyes turn a darker shade of brown. “Jesus Christ, Holly. Don’t even say that. We’re all glad you’re back, safe and alive. We love you.”

  Counting to ten, then fifteen, I breathe deeply, feeling overwhelmed. Emotional. Feelings I’m not used to. “It doesn’t always feel that way. And I don’t mean you…you’ve been so nice to me since I came back, you’ve never acted weird around me. I always look forward to seeing you. And I really like Anna. But I feel like an outsider around everyone else. It all feels…awkward. I feel like I don’t belong.”

  There. I finally said it. A tiny weight lifts from my shoulders.

  He listens intently, leaning on the table, exactly like when we were younger. “I know, Holly. Listen,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something. Next summer, Anna and I are moving to New York. My friend John has a business out there. Do you remember John?”

  I search my memory, trying to remember a John. “John from next door?” I ask as the image of a skinny, sandy-haired boy with hazel eyes comes to mind.

  “That’s him. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. He’s offered me a great job. A partnership, actually. The money is good, and the business is doing great,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “I don’t think it’s an opportunity I can pass up.”

  I almost drop my coffee at what he’s implying. My brother and his girlfriend are the only ones I feel even remotely close to, other than Grandma, and now they’re going to move away?

  “You’re leaving?” My voice wavers on the words.

  “Yeah, that’s the plan. I haven’t even told Mom and Dad yet. The thing is, we wanted to ask if you want to come with us. We can get an apartment that has enough room for you, and you could kind of…start over. You could go to school or maybe look for a job—something easy just to get your feet wet. We’ll help you.” He rubs his hand across the short beard he’s grown recently. “I think a change of scenery might be good for you.”

  I’m shocked speechless at his offer and take a few moments to catch my breath as well as my thoughts. “Really? You mean that?”

  “I do. I wouldn’t joke about something like this.” He takes a bite of his bagel. “I love our parents, but they’re not exactly easy to get along with. I think you figured that out.” I nod over the edge of my cup. “I’ve seen how they act like you’re a visitor, and I can see how much it hurts you, how much you’re struggling. Anna has noticed it too. And honestly? We think it sucks for you. Maybe living with me and Anna will be less stress on you emotionally. You can just take your time to figure stuff out with people that are a little more easygoing, who love and support you. It’s a clean slate.”

  “Am I allowed to move? Where is New York?”

  He lets out a small laugh. “Holly, you’re going to be twenty in two months. You’re an adult. You can do whatever you want. And New York is about four or five hours away by car. It’s where the Statue of Liberty is.”

  “Mom and Dad say I’m not ready to have a job, or make decisions, or meet too many people. They think it’s best I stay at Merryfield…maybe for another year or two.” Maybe they’re right and I’m not ready for any of those things. Just the thought of getting any kind of job and having to see new people every day scares me. While Merryfield is a therapeutic facility, living there as an outpatient resident has been a nice transition for me. I’ve learned a lot during my time there, and it’s been a good way for me to learn independence with a safety net. But I do have to admit, the few times I’ve ventured out of the safe confines of Merryfield have been a bit of a shock.

  “Dr. Reynolds seemed to feel the same as I do every time I was at the meetings with you. She wants you to get out there, make some friends, find some hobbies, figure out who you are. Maybe do some friendly dating. Your entire childhood was spent locked in a room with some lunatic telling you what to do. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life hiding, avoiding new things, and having Mom and Dad tell you what you can and can’t do, do you?”

  I shrug slightly. “Part of me does, and part of me doesn’t.”

  “I think that’s normal, Hol. But as your big brother, I want better than that for you. If I can help you, then I’m going to. You’re beautiful, sweet, and smart. Don’t let what that guy did ruin the rest of your life. If I can, I’m not going to let that happen.”

  I’m shaken by his words, which are so new to me. His care and concern for me haven’t changed at all over the years. He’s still the same protective big brother I had as a little girl.

  Pulling my sleeves down to my palms, I stare out the window at all the people walking by, wonde
ring if I can blend in with them, or if I’m always going to be the Girl in the Hole. Almost everyone in this small town knows what happened to me. Moving to a new place would give me a chance to start over and, hopefully, put everything behind me.

  “You have a lot of time to think it over. You don’t have to decide today,” he says. “I just wanted you to have an option. You need to have choices, Holly. I think it’s important. If you want to move with me and Anna, we’d love to have you. And if it doesn’t work out, you can always come back here.”

  I give him a weak but grateful smile. “I’m going to think about it. Seriously. I honestly never even thought I could go somewhere else.”

  My first real adult decision has been put in front of me, and it’s terrifying. Sometimes I wish the bad man were still telling me what to do, forcing me to do things, and putting clear choices in front of me that don’t involve a lot of thinking. I can’t tell anyone that, though, without them thinking I’m crazy.

  8

  Tyler

  age sixteen

  She’s hovering by the door, looking at the floor, out the window, at her hands. She’s looking everywhere but at me, and she’s sticking by the door like she’s going to bail any second. All I want is for her to come closer. I need to see her smile and feel her hand in mine. I need just one thing to feel normal right now. I’ve waited days for her to visit me and assumed she was waiting until my family and friends weren’t piling into the room so we could be alone.

  “Come here.” I try to hold my hand out to her, but the IV in my wrist and the bandages covering most of my hand make it hard to move.

  She continues to look downward, peeking up at me from beneath her long bangs for a moment before looking down again.

  “Please?” Weak is not a role I play well.

  She crosses the room painstakingly slowly and stops next to the bed, but she doesn’t touch my waiting hand. For the past year, her hand has been intertwined with mine whenever possible—until now.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  I try to force a smile, but the pull of skin and muscle on the left side of my face makes me grimace in pain. Everyone that’s come to visit me has said they’re sorry—an offer of pointless consolation. “It’s okay. I’m pretty fucked up, but the doctor says it’ll get better. I don’t think I’ll be taking you to the prom, though, unless I wear a mask.” My teasing tone reeks of desperation in the tense space between us.

  “I can’t see you anymore.” She’s whispering toward the floor, but I hear her perfectly. My body lurches in an attempt to sit up, but the pain that sears through my body immobilizes me. The edge of my vision hazes, but I fight it. I’m not going to pass out like a wuss.

  “Wendy…”

  She sniffles and rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. I just can’t look at you…like this.”

  My heart plummets like a rock into the pit of my stomach, and I feel like I might throw up. “It’ll get better. I talked to the doctor today. It’s not as bad as it looks right now. I can have surgery.”

  A tear falls off her cheek as she shakes her head violently enough to rattle her brain. “I just can’t. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I know I’m a shitty person…”

  I grind my teeth through the pain, which has doubled in intensity since she started talking. She’s supposed to be making me feel better, not worse. Isn’t that what you do for the people you love?

  “Wendy, you’re not. I know this is hard for you too. Just give it time. It’s only been a fucking week.”

  She turns away, and I want to grab her face and force her to look at me. To see me, still in here under the ugly burnt flesh.

  “I have to go, my mom is waiting for me. I’ll miss you, please believe that. I just can’t deal with all of this.” Her long auburn hair flies behind her as she bolts from the room, taking her broken promises with her. I’m a friggin’ idiot for believing she loved me enough to stay with me through this.

  “Fuck you, Wendy!” I roar after her. My lungs burn, my eyes sting, and white-hot pain shoots through my skull like a dagger, but I don’t care. Nothing fucking matters anymore. I rapidly jam my thumb into the patient-managed painkiller button, begging for another shot of magical liquid to be shot into my vein—it will never reach the pain that’s now got its grips on my heart. Pain of the flesh is one thing, but pain of the heart, that’s an entirely different animal, which is now going to ravage my life. Wendy just took the last shred of hope I had out the door with her.

  A week ago I had everything. Straight As. Popularity. Great friends. Dating the prettiest girl in my class. On my way to getting a lacrosse scholarship. My life was great and only getting better.

  And now, I’m a charbroiled mess lying in a hospital bed, watching it all slip away as I melt into a morphine-induced haze.

  9

  Holly

  Every morning, for the rest of October and November, the first thing I do when I wake up is stare at the pictures of Christmas trees hanging on the wall next to my bed. Something about them makes me feel happy inside, and that’s a new feeling for me. I decide I’m going to leave them up when the holiday season is over.

  Boredom has been settling in for the past few weeks, making me restless. Even though I clean the apartment every day, including Feather’s room, take walks on the Merryfield property, work in the garden, and visit with my one of my counselors, I still feel like there’s a gaping hole in my life. Since Feather and I became roommates not long ago, I’ve watched her get a part-time job, start a relationship with a guy, and get a car. I can see progress with her. But with me? Not so much. My life still feels very much like it did when I was captured: each day the same and going nowhere.

  Last week, I asked my parents again if there was any way I could get my driver’s license and learn to drive a car, but they were adamant I should wait until summer and give myself more time. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I do know I’m tired of more of my life ticking away, so I’ve taken to going for longer walks every day, outside the perimeters of the Merryfield property line.

  When I told my mother over the phone, a few days ago, that I’ve been walking farther each day, she became very agitated, and while I can understand why she’s nervous, I’m making this decision for myself. My father, luckily, jumped on the phone extension and sided with me, agreeing walks might be good for me, but I think it was just his way of appeasing me since he won’t agree to my getting a car.

  I know my parents worry about me but, as Zac said two months ago, I’m going to be twenty in a few weeks. I’m an adult. And I am determined to do something on my own, even if it’s just walking. I need to test my boundaries like other girls my age.

  At first, I only walked down the street and back to Merryfield. I had to force myself for a few days, until I felt comfortable, and I gave myself pep talks to walk a block, then another, and another.

  My sense of adventure increased quickly. Being free was addicting. Each day I walked a little farther, blocks turning into miles. This morning I walked to a small park a few miles away, and I realized it was the exact place I had been taken, halfway between the school and my parents’ house.

  Wow. This town really is small.

  I freeze to the spot on the sidewalk with the deep zig-zag crack that I always avoided stepping on as a little girl. I had been stepping over it when the man had grabbed me, my pink sneaker in mid-air. The crack is wider now, with moss growing between its edges, weathered from time. My head swims and I sway slightly in the wind as my stomach clenches and threatens to empty here on the sidewalk. I swallow hard and step over the crack.

  I make it to the other side, and I grab the hand of the little girl in my memory and pull her with me where she belongs.

  My eyes scan the area, my heart pounding. It looks harmless. Like a typical park, with benches, swings, and paths. It’s empty at the moment, except for some birds hopping around on the ground. The only thing that’s different from that day
is the season. Today, the leaves have already changed colors, the grass has turned brown, and the sky is dark with the promise of icy rain. I huddle inside my fall jacket as a breeze whistles down the street behind me. That day, the sun had been out and white fluffy clouds had filled the sky. Monsters don’t come out in the daylight, right in front of butterflies and blue jays, in a tiny town where everyone knows everyone.

  But, in fact, they do.

  I sit on a bench nearby and stare at that place on the sidewalk for a long time. My memory of being taken is both fuzzy and clear. The feelings are more vivid than the actual events. I can still feel how hard my heart pounded in my chest, how his fingers dug into my arm when he grabbed me. I can’t remember what my best friend, Sammi, and I were chatting about. Nor can I remember what the man was wearing, what color the car was, or if anyone else was around.

  I shrieked. Sammi screamed. I was yanked backward. Sammi ran. A hand covered my mouth. The car door slammed. A man laughed.

  It happened so fast.

  In a matter of mere seconds, I was taken. Stolen from my own life.

  And it was easy.

  I’ve never been told the details of my case or the technicalities of all the crimes committed. All of that was kept from me by my parents and various psychologists and therapists. Feather says I could probably find out most of it by searching the Internet, but I don’t want to know. I lived it. I know enough.

  There are only two things I want to know in relation to my past. The first is to find out where Poppy is. The second is to find my prince. I already know his real name, as I overheard one of the detectives talking about him when I was being questioned. Tyler Grace. Feather says she could find him in about two seconds, but I’ve told her no. In the books, the princess doesn’t go hunting for the prince. He finds her. Or they find each other. I’m afraid if I do it wrong, I’ll ruin the story.