by S. L. Scott
My frustration has turned to anger. Am I a fool? Am I holding on to something I should let go of? Should I let Alexander go? I’ve protected his secrets for so long, protected him, it’s as though I’ve lost myself and am simply full of his deceptions. Maybe I’ve been deceived. I rub my temples, trying to convince myself he’s not gone forever. “He’ll come back. I know it.” Come back to me, Alexander.
Shelly stands behind me and asks, “How about we order a pizza and watch movies?” Simple things. Like our life before we knew darkness.
I’m reminded of a conversation I was cornered into four days ago . . .
Grumbling, I finally have the four textbooks I need for next semester. I want to get a jump on things since I’m so far behind already. I make my way to the register to check out when I round a corner and run into the cops I’m too familiar with. “Ms. Grayson,” the portly man with an uneven shave says.
My instincts kick in. He’s testing me. Again. “It’s Mrs. Kingwood.” I remember what Quincy said, “They can’t use a wife against her husband, so you owe them nothing personal. Stick to the basic facts.”
The cop says, “You sound a lot like your husband.”
I clam up at the mention of Alexander. What can I say? What do I need to hide? I want to tell them everything: He’s missing. Find him. Bring him back to me. The books are heavy and the top one begins to slide, but the other cop angles around the other whose nametag I catch—Brown. “Mrs. Kingwood, we’ve been trying to get hold of Alexander Kingwood for a few weeks now. His lawyer isn’t returning our calls either.”
Staring at him, I keep my expression steady. Did he leave me on purpose? I still struggle with what my head thinks versus what my heart believes. But if he didn’t leave me on purpose, he left against his will, which has left me scrambling to run his life without him, without guidance, without knowing if I should tell the police or not. By telling them anything, it could open a closetful of skeletons. If he’s gone by choice, that leaves me potentially going down for who knows what crimes have been committed.
The nicer cop asks, “May we speak with you now?”
“No. I’m sorry,” I say as he adjusts the top book back into place. “You’ll need to speak with our lawyer.”
He sticks his card between two of the books. “We’ll try Mr. Quincy again, but the statement needs to be finalized. You have five days to comply, or we’ll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice. I recommend you comply willingly.”
Brown steps forward and does the unexpected. Taking my books from me, he says, “Let me carry these up front for you.”
“Thank you.”
The three of us make our way to the end of the line. Brown sets my books on the counter and tells the clerk they’re mine before nodding and leaving with his partner.
. . . I walk inside and dig the card out of my purse. I have one day to comply or I’ll be brought in. Sitting on the end of the bed, I make the call, but it goes to voicemail. Okaaaayyy. That’s odd. “Hi, this is Sara Jane Kingwood.” Shelly’s eyes land hard on mine as her eyebrows shoot up. I turn my back to her and add, “Please call me so I can give the rest of my statement, and we can move on.” I hang up.
It’s then I realize that Alexander’s not gone for good.
I would feel it inside. My heart would surrender to the pain, and I’d be buried in his absence. With a racing heart and a small smile on my face, I know he’ll return to me. We’re destined for each other, and nothing can tear us apart. If Nastas didn’t take me down, no woman with a vengeance will.
I’ll be everything Alexander wanted me to be. I’ll find Alexander and prove to him I am the queen he knew me to be all along. I’ll reign alongside him.
Repeating what he knew we’d always be—rulers of our own destiny, I accept his darkness, letting it happily rain down on me.
I’m just about to see Shelly out but jolt in surprise seeing Jason on the landing when I open the front door. “I need to talk to you.”
My heart starts racing. “About?”
“Somewhere more private.”
“Upstairs. Follow me.”
We step aside so he can walk inside. He looks around, checking out the place, like he always seems to do when he comes here.
I lock the door behind us while they sit on the couch. When I turn back, I run to the coffee table and plant myself right in front of him. “Tell me, Jason. Is it Alexander?”
“He’s alive.”
“What?” I say in unison with Shelly, but then add, “Alexander? You heard from him?”
“He’s safe.”
“Safe?” Shelly asks, leaning toward us.
He glances to her and then back to me. “He was kidnapped, Sara Jane. He’s alive and will recover, but you need to know he’s in bad shape. Cruise is even worse off.”
My hand covers my mouth. “Cruise, too. Oh my God. I need to see Alexander. Let’s go.”
I start to dash for the door, but he grabs my wrist. With only a few inches between us, I look up at him. “What?”
“Try to calm down. There’s a plan in place. You’ll see him soon, but after he’s examined by the doctor.”
“Can you take me to him?”
His hand falls to his side. “We need to hang tight. Can you do that? I know it’s stressful and a lot to ask, but we can’t let this get out. I need you to pretend you don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not supposed to tell you. So listen to me. Don’t change your routine. He’s anxious to get back to you too, but I need you to act normally. Go to bed like you usually do. It’s getting late anyway.”
“How can I sleep, knowing he’s out there and hurt?”
“He’ll be fine. I’ve seen him.”
I sit on the arm of the couch, and he sits back down too. “How do you know all this?”
“It’s part of my job.”
“Your job? You mean the job like how Alexander paid you to watch me?”
“Over.”
“Over?” I ask, my anxiousness getting harder to contain.
“Watch over you. I wasn’t watching you. I’m not a fucking peeping Tom.”
Shelly asks, “What are you?”
He sits forward, aggravation coursing through his muscles as his leg begins to bounce. “I can’t give you the details you want. Please be satisfied with Jason Koster or even Eric from the mini-mart. You’re too good to know the bad stuff I’ve done.”
“I already do.”
His hands fist at his sides as he stares at the floor at my feet. “You don’t, but you do know all you need to know.” Standing up, I follow him to the door. He stops and looks back. “See you around, Shelly.”
“Bye, Jason.”
When his eyes meet mine, there’s the kindness I’ve always seen in him. He doesn’t laugh as much these days as he did in that mini-mart, but I see the good in him because I’ve seen the real him. “You’re leaving for good, aren’t you?”
“No, but I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“You too, and hey?”
“Yeah,” I reply, whispering.
“King’s the luckiest man I’ve ever known.”
“He survived. That’s determination.”
“I was referring to you.” Always the straight shooter.
Alexander’s words as I lay dying in his arms come rushing back. “It was always you for me. I was just lucky enough that you chose me. I’m the lucky one.”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m the lucky one.”
I watch as he walks out the door without looking back, without so much as a goodbye. I’m not sure if it’s for now or forever, but it’s settled either way.
Shelly leaves shortly after. She didn’t want to go, but I want to be here alone when Alexander comes back to me.
It doesn’t take me long to get ready for bed. My body buzzes with energy, so I lie down to curb my impatience. My hand slides under my T-shirt, and I run the tips
of my fingers over my wound. I’m healing “nicely” the doctor says, and I don’t have to wear bandages anymore. The scar is ugly, but living is good, so I’ll take the tradeoff.
And wait for my dark king to return to me.
35
Sara Jane
My eyes fly open, my heart thudding in my chest.
Another night.
Another nightmare.
I sit up, sweating, and push the covers from body, needing the cooler air to comfort me. The dream is visceral, my arms empty from the baby I’ll never hold. The vision of Alexander in agony pins me to the spot.
His pain.
I can’t take his pain.
I’m so sorry.
When the first tear falls, I move into the bathroom and lean my hands on the counter, not able to look myself in the mirror. I don’t want to see the effects of the pain I’ve caused, digging into my features. I just want to wake up from the nightmare I’ve been living.
I splash some cold water on my face and pat it dry.
Alexander.
Tossing the towel, I run back into the bedroom and look at the time. 3:32 a.m.
Why is he not here? “Damn it.” I’m going stir-crazy, waiting for his return. Grabbing my robe, I fling it around my shoulders, tuck my phone in the pocket, and leave the room. Maybe there’s some wine in the fridge.
The manor is quiet as I walk down the hall and descend the stairs. But a creak in the wood behind me makes me stop and look back. “Hello?”
Thank God no one answers or I might jump a mile. I turn back—ACK! My scream bounces around the room as I come face to face with April. “You scared me.”
“Good,” she replies, her voice somber, her eyes as soulless as her heart.
I take a step back, gripping my robe closed at the neck. “Are you okay?” She doesn’t look okay. The dark circles under her eyes have hollowed, and her lips appear parched. Such a contrast to the made-up socialite from earlier.
“You remind me of her.”
“Who?”
She takes a step closer and I take another step back. “Who, April? Who do I remind you of?”
“His wife.”
My mind stumbles in the dark of the room, trying to grasp something to hold on to. “Alexander’s father?”
Coming closer, she whispers, “I wanted her dead.”
My voice fails me in fear, and I whisper, “She is.”
“But you’re not.”
I back away, debating if I run for the bedroom or the front door. “I’m not her.”
“No, you’re her replacement. You’re now the one who can take everything away from me. I won’t let you. Not again.”
“I didn’t. You’re confused. I’m Sara Jane. I’m not here to hurt you, April.”
“You already have.”
With my arms in front of me, I try to temper the crazy that burns in her eyes. “Did you take something?”
“Will you help me, Sara Jane?”
“I will.” She sways, and I reflexively move closer for support.
She collapses to the floor, and I drop to my knees. “April? April, what did you take?”
Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and her body convulses. I reach for my phone to call 9-1-1, but a hand is on my throat and my body is throttled back, my head hitting the bottom stair. April is bearing her weight down on me as I grab her arm and attempt to pull it off. When she doesn’t budge, I bring my knee up, ignoring the pulsing pain from my healing wound and push her off me. She flies back, her body hitting the console table behind the couch.
What little light exists shines on her exposed arms, fresh track marks from needles. Gasping for air, I scramble up against the step and pull myself to my feet. She kicks my ankle, causing me to stumble when I try to run. Her voice is shrill as she yells, “You won’t ruin this. Not again.”
“I’m not Madeline. April, please. It’s me, Sara Jane.”
“You’re all the same. All of you.”
I run to the other side of the living room, keeping the two couches between us when she rises. “April, don’t do this. I can help.”
“Help me? I don’t want your help. I want to live the life I should have had.”
“Hurting me won’t help you. Alexand—”
“Alexander is more her son than mine. There’s no saving him, just like there’s no saving you now.”
My throbbing heart stops dead in my chest and falls. “You wouldn’t hurt him. You gave birth to him.”
Her laugh is maniacal, but the laugh stops dead, just like my heart and her expression falls as if she can’t control the fallout of her actions. She slurs, “He’s his father incarnate. I’ve done you a favor.” A favor? What does she mean?
I’m never going to reason with someone strung out. She’s becoming sloppy and sluggish. I have to get out of here. Turning, I make a run for the terrace, unlocking the door and swinging it wide open. I dash across the stone area and down the steps onto the cold grass. I run past the rose bushes and down to the lake.
I pull my phone from my pocket and look back. She’s not following me, hopefully too out of it to keep up. Not able to catch my breath, I go to my recent calls and push the last one I called. The sounds of the night—cicadas, blowing leaves, the water lapping lightly—keep me on edge when they would usually soothe.
The first ring makes me jump, but the second speeds my heart up even faster in anticipation. “Please answer. Please answer. Please answer,” I chant, but my hopes are dashed when I get Officer Langley’s voicemail. “Help me. It’s Sara Jane. April is trying to kill me. Help me. I’m at the manor.” I quickly walk away from the house, deeper out into the property of the estate. “I’m by the lake. She’s in the house. Please—”
“Sara Jane?” I hear her calling me from the gardens, closer than the terrace, but far enough for me to run and hide.
Running, I grip my phone tight in my hand and scan the area, looking for a place to hide. My side aches, but I move as quickly as I can. The lawn is expansive, but there are no more gardens to protect me. I make it to the dock, staring into the inky black of the gently rippling water. I’m trapped. There’s nowhere to run. I’ll dive into the water if I have to, but I’m not supposed to submerge my wound.
Nothing exists out here but the moon that brightens the sky. I look across the lawn, knowing I only have seconds to decide my fate. I refuse to give up. Even injured, I can outrun her. I take off, leaving the lake behind.
“Sara Jane?”
I come to a stop and look back. “Jason?”
Light floods the grounds, blinding my view of the manor. A gun fires, the shot echoing through the dark. “Shit,” he shouts.
Dropping to the soft grass, I lie still but call out. “Jason?”
“Stay down.”
Another shot rings out, and I hear him grunt but see nothing. “Shit,” he yells. I start to crawl back toward the gardens, hating how exposed I am in the open.
I reach the edge of the rose bushes and breathe in relief. Until I hear someone behind me. I flip over in terror, ready to defend my life. April’s hand shakes as she bends down and tells me to be quiet, her finger over her mouth. The small silver gun aimed at me reflects the light that sneaks through the leaves from the manor. Whispering, she says, “Shhh. I’ll free you, Sara Jane. I’ll free you like I freed Alexander.”
Begging for my life, fighting for it seems like something I should be doing, but when she mentions Alexander, I need to know what she means. “What did you do, April? Where is Alexander?”
“It will all be okay. Like your baby, my baby is in heaven. They’re safe now. Together.”
There was a time—before I met the boy who would change my life, before I knew what it was like to experience pain—when I used to jump into swimming pools without a care in the world. I would cannonball right in and hold my breath underwater. I could see the sun through the wavy water above. I could hear muffled voices just five or ten feet from me. I could feel the life leaving my lun
gs, but I would stay there—drowning—until my instincts would send me up to break the surface. Gasping for air, I struggled to breathe, but knew I would live despite the thrill.
My heart no longer beats. My words stutter as tears sting like acid from her confession. “My Ale . . . xander?” My baby?
“He would turn out just like the man who raised him, the man who tried to rape you. Are you so blind to what he really is that you can’t see what he will become?”
Her eyes plead with me for understanding much like my heart bleeds, thinking Alexander is no longer alive. I can almost see the woman I met that first night—scared, scarred, desperate. She’s frantic for me to agree what she’s done is for the best. Deranged. I think the drugs aren’t just affecting her. She’s out of her mind. The gun wavers when she looks up, and I swing to knock it away, but she moves out of reach.
“It’s not about them for me. It’s only about him.” My tears fall as I stare at her in horror, disgust, and disbelief. “Please tell me you didn’t hurt him.”
“Alexander is better now. His soul can be saved before it’s too late. He can live in heaven instead of this hell they’ve created.” Her lips purse in anger. Her tone is startling and hate-fueled, and she shows no remorse. “He’s a Kingwood, which means he’s evil.”
Was Jason wrong? Has something happened since Jason left? He may not be of this earth any longer, so I take in the pain and breathe in our fate. We were never supposed to last a lifetime. The words once spoken so passionately to the man I’m willing to die to be with again come back in a fading memory . . .
“Bring on your darkness, Alexander. Bring on your burdens, lighten your load, and let me love you.”
“One way or another you’re going to be the death of me and on that day I’ll welcome it wholeheartedly. Like you, I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes in the time I’ve spent with you—living. Loving. I’ll never be over you. I’ll never have enough of you. Stay with me. Stay with me always, Sara Jane.”
“I’m here. I’m never going anywhere. I’m here because of you. I’ll live for you.”