by Rebel Hart
“Get it together, Vivian,” Bernadette chimes in, looking around in embarrassment. “What the hell are you thinking?”
Vivian huffs over to her. “What am I thinking!?” she scoffs. “What is your stupid fucking brother thinking!? He hasn’t answered my calls or texts. I’ve had no idea what was going on. My parents won’t tell me anything. I can only assume this little bitch has been whoring herself out to Emmett.”
I press my hand to my cheek, still sore from Thomas and now even worse off thanks to Vivian. I ache with disappointment, having thought Emmett might have told her something. Broken it off. But no. She just jumped to conclusions in a frenzy of feeling left out of the loop. And he’s doing nothing to let on that her suspicions are true.
“Emmett doesn’t want anything to do with her,” Bernadette defends half-heartedly. “He’s just looking after her for Daddy. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Vivian turns back toward me, her arms crossed in shame now that her friend isn’t backing her up. It’s strange to see her slip from her pedestal. Humbled into being worried about her own position in things. They’re all acting on edge, and it’s making me nervous. I’m used to seeing them calm and in control. Always one step ahead of the game.
I should be comforted that my dad’s threats have them so afraid, but it only makes my position less certain. They could get tired of waiting at any moment and follow through on their own threats.
“Bernadette’s right,” I offer dejectedly. “Emmett doesn’t want anything to do with me. And I sure as shit don’t want anything to do with him.”
I don’t know why I say it. Maybe as some last desperate attempt to hurt Emmett back. It looks like it might have worked as his eyes glint over to me in subtle surprise.
“I don’t need you to placate me,” she barks back. “Soon this will all be over, and you’ll go back to whatever little white trash hole you crawled out of.” Her voice wavers with doubt. “Emmett, take a walk with me.”
“You know I can’t,” he walks over to her, keeping his voice down while cutting his eyes over to me. “I can’t let her out of my sight. I’ll call you later, okay?”
She looks to him with an almost comedic pout, but her phone rings, pulling her attention away. “Hello?” she picks up, pressing a finger to her ear. “Daddy?” I watch her face wrinkle as she steps away. She’s quickly distracted with her call, leaving Emmett and I in a stand-off.
I lift my chin and straighten my shoulders in resolve. I don’t know what I expected him to do with Vivian, but at least now his intentions are clear. I was just a convenient fuck while he has me as his prisoner. And I’d say as much to him if Bernadette wasn’t standing right there. If I make it out of this, I don’t need Vivian’s jealous wrath to worry about afterward.
Suddenly a black car whips around in the parking lot, screeching to a halt right in front of us. The back window rolls down as Thomas hangs his head out in a seething rage.
“Get in the car! Now!” His voice bellows with sharp command, and we’re all too afraid to hesitate to obey him. I’m not supposed to be outside of the manor, and Emmett looks terrified of the consequences. We quickly file inside.
I start to follow into the back seat behind Emmett, hoping he’ll protect me in whatever way he can. But Thomas suddenly appears behind me, clenching his hand around my wrist and yanking me to the front seat. Emmett and Bernadette comply, but I can feel Emmett’s rage that he can’t be near me.
Regardless of whatever he told Vivian, or whatever he feels for me, he still has a sense of ownership over me. He thinks I belong to him.
“Daddy, what’s going on?” Bernadette asks from the backseat.
“The Whitworths tipped me off,” he growls, his eyes darting over to me in disdain. “It appears the Hendersons are working with your father now.
I tense up in fear that they somehow know about my meeting with the Hendersons. I don’t want to know what the repercussions for that will be.
“The feds are closing in,” he continues. “My guy on the inside says I have less than twenty-four hours to leave the country.”
Vivian’s phone call makes sense now. Her parents must have been catching her up to speed with this new development. I can’t help but smile slightly at my father’s jump on the deadline. “Well then maybe that’s what you should be doing,” I offer coyly. “Instead of wasting your time with us.”
He slams on the brakes so suddenly my forehead shoots straight toward the dash, but I’m saved with a searing pain to my scalp as he violently yanks back my hair. His lips snarl as he looks over to me.
“Watch your mouth,” he sneers. “We told your father our terms. If I have to leave this country, you’re coming with me and you’ll never be back.”
After glaring into me for a few moments, his nostrils flaring with hot and angry breaths, he finally lets me go and returns to driving the car. We screech around every turn as he flies down the streets back to the manor. I bring my knees to my chest, making my body small as I press my forehead to the window.
He doesn’t take it any easier on me once we’re back to the manor. Before I can pull the handle to get out of the car, he is yanking the door out of my hand and reaching in to pull me out by my hair. I clasp my hands to his grip, trying to lessen the pull to my scalp, but he’s moving too fast for me to keep up. My eyes water with pain as he marches me back into the parlor and flings me back down into the chair.
He takes long and smooth cavalier strides over to this desk, his sudden calmness frightening me. With a tug of a drawer, his hand grips something and pulls it up into the light. My heart plummets at the sight of his pistol. He grins as he holds it up and cocks it before marching back over to me with purpose.
With another yank of my hair, he puts the gun to my head. “We warned you,” he growls into my ear. “We told you if he didn’t stop, we’d kill you.”
“I told you I don’t know him,” I plead. “I didn’t think he’d listen to me! He doesn’t care about me! This is a waste of your time!”
“He’ll listen,” Thomas barks. “At least you better hope he does. Now…what do you say we try again? Maybe this time with more feeling now that you understand we’re not fucking around?”
“It’s no use!” I argue with clenched fists, my voice trembling.
I look to Emmett hopelessly. He cowers, refusing to look up from his feet. His jaw is tight and clamped.
My teeth clench and grind as I grab at the finger marks on my arms. “Emmett, please! Do something!” I cry, but he just turns away and does nothing. I’m getting reacclimated to his indifference now. It was silly for me to think he would ever be some kind of savior. He’s just his dad’s puppet.
Thomas’s angry eyes turn to Emmett. He looks completely disgusted with him. “What’s this, son?” he calls out in a chilling tone. “Why is it that she’s turning to you for help?”
“I have no fucking idea,” Emmett lies in a low grumbling tone, shifting uncomfortably.
“You sure about that?” he continues, looking at his son with such hatred. “You haven’t been sampling the goods have you, my boy?”
“No, Dad!” Emmett defends with a nervous shriek. “I swear! I haven’t touched her! I just did what you said!”
“Well then, maybe you’d like to come over here and prove it?” Thomas calls his bluff.
Emmett’s fists clench, his lips snarling as he glares at me. Ready to pounce and do whatever his father says. He doesn’t even look like himself anymore. He’s running on fear. Whatever his father would do to him is enough to put him back in his place.
My breaths are so quick and shallow, I’m certain I’m hyperventilating as his grip in my hair tightens. I shudder to think what Thomas might make Emmett do to prove his loyalty. It shouldn’t matter right now, but I realize this is how he maintains control. Calling anyone out the moment they question him or go against his wishes.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the cold metal barrel pushes into my temple, Emmett’s stand-
off with his father quickly being filed away for later. Thomas clicks the pistol with what I can only assume is the removal of the safety.
“Wait” I cry, desperate to do anything to get out from under the barrel of his gun. “I’ll do the video! Please! I’ll do it!”
He throws me back to the chair, nodding for his men to come and hold me down as the video camera is brought out again. I’m overwhelmed with sudden dread as I calculate the likelihood that I will die in this mansion. I try to think of anything else to calm myself, but it’s no use.
“He has two hours to respond,” Thomas barks. “He puts a stop to this or you’re dead.”
I rub against the bulging veins in my neck as I try to steady my voice. He leans against the edge of his desk, adjusting his cufflinks calmly. He’s too confident. Whimpers escape my lips in between each breath.
My trembling fingers dig into the seat of the chair as I straighten my spine and brace myself, my leg bouncing uncontrollably with adrenaline and panic. I note my flushed, sweating skin on the screen as I gasp to control my breathing.
One of his men pushes the red button and flails his hand at me to start talking. I jump from my seat, desperate to wipe the tears from my face as I step backward, wanting to feel a wall behind me for security, but they quickly barrel toward me and fling me back to the chair as I cry hysterically.
I want to call for help, but I know that no one here will save me. My eyes dart around the room in desperation for anything that could inspire an idea for how to get out of this.
I gulp down acceptance. I have no other choice but try to plead for my father to save me once again. Feeling even more hopeless now than I did the first time.
“Dad, please,” my pitch spikes and cracks as I sob. “We don’t know each other, but I’m your daughter. And they will kill me. Just do what they ask.”
“Is that all you got!?” Thomas bellows from behind the camera. “This is your life on the line, Ophelia! Better make this one better than the last!”
“Please!” I scream out again at the top of my lungs. “Please, dad, I’m begging you! Stop all of this and let the Jamesons be! He’s not going to go down without taking me with him.”
I scream and cry every plea I can think of until they’re finally satisfied, taking the camera away again. As the recording stops, my muscles twitch and there’s a cold silence. All there is to do now is wait.
My heart races in palpitations as adrenaline shoots through my body, and I think I might choke on my breaths…short and out of control. I can’t get enough oxygen and my limbs are tingling. My fingers and toes going numb. I think I might pass out as spots dance across my line of sight.
Thomas wipes down his pistol but doesn’t return it to the drawer. He keeps it close to his side. His eyes are glued to Emmett, and I can see him contemplating bringing up the issue of our involvement again. Emmett has braced himself against the wall, blowing sharp breaths from his cheeks.
“We’ll come back to you later, son,” he announces grimly. “I can’t have you making friends with the enemy. You know that.”
“Dad, I promise…,” Emmett tries to defend weakly, his voice trembling. “I didn’t…”
With one swift raise of Thomas’ hand, Emmett stops cold. Not bothering to say another word. No wonder he is so afraid to step in and help me. Why he never even tries to defend me. He wasn’t kidding. His father would kill him or make him do something terrible to me to prove himself.
Thomas has him completely under his thumb, and he’s too afraid to question him or go against him in anyway. For a second, I almost feel guilty for tempting Emmett. For putting him directly in the line of his father’s wrath. But remembering all of his inappropriate touches from before, I wonder if it even would have mattered how willing I was.
Thankfully, Thomas seems to let it rest again. Huddling with his cronies as they discuss what happens next, leaving me to try and control my crying. I hate that I let my last ounce of control slip. They saw me break down on camera. The composure I clung to the last time completely vanished this time, solidifying that when it comes down to it, they really can make me do whatever they want me to.
If time could just slow down somehow, or if I could just go back to a different time when I felt safe. But now, life feels like a broken hourglass in my hands, with the sand slipping through my fingers and blowing off in the wind. Time is running out. All I can do is hope my pleas appeal to something in my father.
Chapter Twenty-Two
BOOK 1
The room stills as my cries slowly quiet, trailing off into nothing. I notice Bernadette perched in the corner of the room, looking bored. She pops her gum as her pastel pink nails flip across the screen of her phone. As fucked up as Emmett may be, at least he is feeling something in the middle of all of this. She looks completely apathetic and indifferent.
Thomas turns to his cronies and whispers instructions in hushed tones. They look to me with evil grins, nodding as he tells them what to do. I know he’s preparing them for the time to kill me. A time which I know is quickly approaching. I can feel the desperation in the air.
“Let’s hope this last performance inspires more than your last one,” Thomas announces to me coldly. “Makes no difference to me. I’m getting out of this one way or the other. It’s just a matter of how hard it will be on everyone else.”
He probably does have back-up plans galore. Anything to save his own ass, but I see the subtle panic in Thomas’s eyes. His life is just as much on the line as mine. If my father succeeds, he’ll be in prison. And for underage sex trafficking at that. An offense that I imagine all the other cons don’t take kindly to, with their own troubled daughters waiting for them on the outside.
I want to believe this video could save me, but given my father’s lack of response so far, I’m not hopeful. The most frustrating part about their entire plan is that it hinges on my father giving a shit about me enough to stop in order to save my life. He had to have known the risk he was taking by continuing, even after Vivian and the other Elites made sure he knew I had been uprooted to WJ Prep. If he hasn’t stopped before now, I have no reason to believe he’ll have a change of heart in time.
The room is tense, filled with impatience. I worry Thomas will grow restless and just shoot me before fleeing. I look to Emmett once more, but he’s still and silent. Doing nothing to intervene.
With a father like Thomas, I know his life has probably been fucked up in more ways than I could ever understand. But I have even less sympathy now that I have learned my father isn’t so different. Maybe he did me a favor by not being around.
I remind myself I’m not so above it all. Not now that I’ve given myself over to Emmett willingly. Even with my life hanging on the line, resting in my father’s hands, the haunting memory of his touch still plagues me. The torture and the pleasure all blurs together. The times he inflicted violence on me didn’t seem so different from when he was moving inside of me. Our movements and noises were almost the same.
I meant everything I had said when I was trying to convince him to release me. There was an undeniable connection between us, but it obviously wasn’t strong enough to inspire him to save me. I watch him shift uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets, looking almost as dejected as his sister on the other side of the room.
What a strange world these people live in where torture and hostages and death threats are so normal. No wonder Lily tried to warn me and was so scared shitless of these people. Seeing how cold and cavalier Thomas can be with a young girl’s life on the line, I’m not surprised his kids and friends’ kids are so sadistic.
My disgusted gaze drifts from Emmett, who is decidedly avoiding me. And I realize all at once that no one is within a few feet of me. They’re each distracted and dispersed into their own corners of the room. It’s now or never. If he’s not going to do anything to help me, and my dad’s intervening isn’t guaranteed by a long shot, I might as well try to make a run for it.
My eyes are bright a
nd feverish as they dart around the room, noting everyone’s position one last time. No one is paying attention to me, probably assuming I’m surrounded enough not to try anything. My fingers twitch against the edge of my chair, and my heart drops knowing if I don’t do something right now, I won’t have another chance.
I leap out of the chair and bolt toward the door, my heart plummeting to my stomach. I instantly hear Thomas shout behind me followed by feet pounding in my direction, but I don’t stop. My throat chokes as I race for the front door faster than I have ever ran in my life.
I feel a surge of hope as my hand grips the handle, flinging it open so fast I almost hit myself in the head as I waver with the surge of adrenaline and panic. I come to a dead halt at the front doormat. A figure is blocking my way, and I look up expecting to see an unfamiliar guard or house staff member ready to snatch me up and return me to my captor. I scream, thinking I’ve been caught. I know the reprimand for an attempted escape will be brutal.
But instead I see a familiar face. One that I know but am unable to fully comprehend. I am almost too panicked to fully take in the features, but my brain slowly pieces it together.
Standing before me is the man responsible for all of this. My father. Theodore Nickelson.
There’s a quiet rage burning behind his eyes. He’s alone with only a gun in hand for protection.
“Ophelia,” he announces in an unreadable tone.
I never expected to meet my father. I had no intentions of ever trying to find him. But if I ever did have some kind of fantasy about us meeting for the first time, this was definitely not one of the scenarios I pictured. Not by a long shot.
“Theodore…” I blurt. “Or I guess…Dad…” I am overcome with anger, wanting to lash out at him for never being around. For being such a shit loser that he started all of this mess and nearly got me killed over his pathetic gambling habit and need for vengeance.