by Kent, Rina
You can do this, Astrid. You can totally do this.
My pep talk doesn’t work. The whooshing of my pulse doesn’t come down and black fills my vision.
A tall, sombre figure blocks my path. I scream, but the sound is drowned with a strong hand blocking my mouth.
My body freezes as I’m pulled back, feet dragging on the concrete with a sickening noise.
Am I… being kidnapped?
The thought shakes me out of my stupor. I thrash against my capturer’s hold, scratching and kicking anywhere I could.
My back is slammed against something hard. Air knocks out of my lungs, and I gasp for non-existent breath.
A claustrophobic feeling creeps up my spine, paralysing me. My entire existence is filled with the tall, broad figure looming over me like a dooming grim reaper.
I know fear.
I lived it. Twice.
During Mum’s accident and my hit-and-run. However, fear isn’t a feeling someone can get used to. It’s not a feeling that gets better with time.
If anything, it gets worse.
Now that I’ve seen fear’s face, it keeps changing so every experience is more horrific than the previous one.
Tremors shoot down my limbs and I’m shaking like a leaf during a downpour.
“P-please… please…” I mumble against the hand holding me in place.
I should know by now that begging doesn’t save you. Begging can make those with sick minds want to torture you some more.
But I have nothing else.
Even if I fight, my captor is obviously way stronger than me.
He stopped my earlier struggles with a mere hand. He can tear me from limb to limb if he chooses to.
His free hand glues against my chest.
My eyes screw shut as tears burn behind my lids.
Oh, God.
Please no.
Please.
Something inside me snaps and any reluctance I had about fighting back disappears. I punch and kick everywhere and nowhere all at once.
I barely hit anything, but I don’t stop. I’m crying and punching and kicking like a manic.
He fists my shirt and my screams turn crazier, even though they’re blocked by his hand.
He pulls me forward. I trip, but I catch myself in the last second before falling to my face.
Both hands disappear from my chest and my mouth.
Before I can form any thoughts about what just happened, blinding light goes on in the car park.
I’m standing near the exit with my back facing the school.
Harsh, shallow breaths leave my mouth as my heart thumps against my ribcage.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
I stare around me, spooked, half-expecting a monster to lunge at me from the shadows.
When I look down, I make out the piece of paper glued to my school jacket.
I snatch it with shaky fingers and read the typed words.
Stay away or pay.
13
Levi
I orchestrated your fall, but I don’t feel the grand finale.
* * *
My hands remain inert by my side as Chloe straddles my lap, her flowery perfume is so strong, it’s nauseating.
Or maybe that’s due to the shots of vodka I’ve been gulping down.
The party is in full bloom around me. Girls grind on the team members. Some smoke, others drink. I should stop them, considering that it’s a weeknight, but fuck if I care.
Hell, I’ve been drinking like a sailor myself.
The captain in me is a shitty person right now.
The Meet Up is a cottage-like house at the outskirts of London that Aiden has inherited from his mother.
Since we grew old enough to need a breather from the King’s mansion, this place has become our sanctuary.
Ronan is channelling his inner dancer and MCing the party with his random French sayings.
Xander gambles at the table in the middle of the room with a few other players. But half the team has taken a girl — or two — and disappeared down the hall.
Rock music thumps from the new speakers Cole installed the other day. Chris is grinding with a girl, his eyes bloodshot and his smile manic — just like when we returned from the mission.
It’s a merry go round of fun and games.
Usually, I’d take part in the masquerade and pretend like all of this is what I want to be.
But I couldn’t give a shit whatsoever.
Not when everything is fucking black.
I push Chloe off me, and she stumbles to her feet with a squeak.
Usually, I’d fuck the shit out of her or any of her friends. However, since the beginning of this year, none of the girls is doing it for me.
Especially now when everything, even the fucking air, is clawing up my throat and suffocating my breathing.
Ignoring Chloe’s protests, I breeze through the crowd, snatching a cigarette from between Xander’s fingers on the way out.
As soon as the outside cool air hits me, I take a drag and blow a cloud of smoke in the distance.
I’m not a smoker, but whenever it feels like shit is closing in on me, nicotine chases the fog away. There are also the happy pills some of the guys use, but I promised myself to never come within two inches of that poison.
Not after what happened in the past.
It’s one of those nights where everything feels fucking wrong.
Wrong place.
Wrong mindset.
Wrong bloody air.
The only thing that keeps flashing in my mind is the look of horror and despair on those teary eyes as she stared up at me.
The way she begged even though she’s not the type to.
I meant to scare her, put her in her place, and teach her that there’s no crossing me.
But as I stared at the terror in her gaze and felt her shrink and tremble against me, something strange happened.
I had doubts.
I have doubts.
For my entire life, I’ve been taught to be assertive. Once I plan everything to a T and study every possible outcome, I shouldn’t look twice before forging ahead.
After all, no battles were won by just holding down the fort.
My family is known for its boldness whether in business, social, or political situations. We don’t back down once we put our sights on something.
Tonight shouldn’t have been any different.
Yet… it was.
Maybe I took it too far. Maybe I triggered some sort of a trauma that she struggled to keep buried inside.
Her voice sounded hauntingly similar to that black night.
I run a hand through my hair and throw the cigarette away.
It’s over.
It’s done.
That should teach Astrid her place.
Judging from how Daniel is singing with Ronan, it seems she didn’t bother to call or text him.
Not sure if that should delight or anger me.
A part of me is glad the whole thing is done, but the other part, the most confusing fucking part feels emptier and blacker than I did at the beginning of the night.
This is supposed to be my win but I don’t feel victorious.
14
Astrid
I don’t hate you, I hate my weakness.
* * *
I hide in the confines of my room underneath the blanket, breathing my own air.
For always chastising myself about feeling strong, I don’t anymore.
I spent the entire night curled into a fetal position beneath the blanket crying until no more tears came out.
There are no words to describe the amount of hate I feel for myself for letting him — or them — get to me.
How am I to survive in the big, vast world if I can’t even stand up for myself?
Is leaving Dad’s house real freedom or am I just deluding myself?
All these chaotic questions never left me the entire night. I thought about
Mum and her strength and that only brought more self-hatred for not being more like her.
I thought about Dad and his power and how I didn’t inherit an ounce of it.
I thought about college and my art and how I have no idea where I’m going from here.
It’s been all crashing down on me. I don’t know how to stop it — or if I can stop it.
Last night, in the aftershock of adrenaline and fear, I learnt something important.
I never really had control over my life.
All this time, I’ve been floating like an aimless object with no landing zone in sight.
The door opens and I still, holding my breaths. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone — even Sarah.
She’s been checking up on me, but I told her that I wanted to be alone.
The bed dips as a weight settles on the edge. His strong cedar scent gives him away before he speaks.
“Sarah said you’re staying in sick today?” Dad asks in his usual calm tone.
I make an affirmative sound without changing my position.
A sigh comes from my left. It’s not annoyance, but more like resignation — or something similar. He makes the same sound every time he comes to adjust my blanket at night.
It’s the only habit Dad has kept doing since I came to this house.
Every night, he readjusts my blanket as if I’m a child and murmurs, “Night, Star.”
I always pretended to be asleep, or maybe he only comes when he thinks I’m asleep.
He’s been doing that religiously, even during the nights when he’s caught up late with work. The only time he misses his habit is when he’s abroad. Even then, he sends me my goodnight wish in a text.
When he came last night, I resisted the urge to turn around and cry in his arms. I’m still tempted to do it now, but I stop myself.
His ‘Goodnights’ aren’t fatherly, they’re obligatory. Dad’s upbringing and aristocratic name are all about manners and etiquette. I’m sure he gives Nicole her ‘Goodnights’, too.
“Is it because of the accident? Are you having nightmares?” he asks. “I’ll call Dr Edmonds.”
The shrink is Dad’s solution for everything.
“No, I’m just down with something.” Like my dignity.
“Look at me, Astrid.”
I shake my head, curling further into myself.
“Did something happen at school?”
I can tell him everything. Dad will probably notify the school, and then what? It was completely dark and they’re not stupid enough to leave evidence behind. It’d only cause more of their wrath.
Dammit. I can’t believe I’m cowering away from them this easily.
But what did strength give me aside from reliving my nightmare over and over again?
I can’t be thrust back into those horrible memories from the accidents. I just… can’t.
“Can you drop the case?” I ask in a low tone.
“Why?” Dad sounds suspicious. “You were so insistent on making them pay.”
“I just… it’s not worth it. I probably won’t remember.”
“Look at me,” he repeats, and I shake my head. “Astrid Elizabeth Clifford, are you or are you not going to remove that blanket?”
“I want to be alone.”
One moment I’m curled into the safety of my blanket, the next, I’m uncovered. I try to pull the cover over my head but Dad keeps it out of reach.
I face him and he freezes.
Oh, for the love of Vikings. My face must look like a hot mess.
“Why are you crying?” For one of the rarest times, Dad appears out of his element. Awkward even.
“Just… girl stuff.” I lie.
“Yeah. Right. Of course,” he says slowly. “Do you want me to bring Victoria?”
“No!” I snatch my blanket and hide under it. “Can you call the school and tell them I won’t make it?”
“Sure.” There’s an awkward silence before a warm hand pats my shoulder over the blanket. “Call me if you need anything.”
And with that, he’s out of the door. I resist the urge to call after him.
In the few minutes he was here, I wasn’t sucked into that endless thinking circle.
I close my eyes and pray for sleep.
By the afternoon, I feel a bit better. It probably has to do with how I spent most of the day sleeping.
I annoyed Sarah in the kitchen.
I’m thankful that Victoria has a gathering with other lords’ wives and Nicole will be at school all day.
It’s one of those rare, peaceful days.
Since Sarah doesn’t like anyone in her space, she kicks me out with a chocolate smoothie and a ruffle of my hair.
I lounge by the pool with my sketchpad in hand. My lips purse and my brows scrunch together as I stare at what I spent the last thirty minutes sketching.
Levi.
The lines are a mere draft, but it’s his outline. It’s his side profile and those merciless, pale blue eyes.
I can’t believe he’s the first actual sketch I made in freaking months. I’m about to rip the paper when a familiar voice calls.
“Hey, bugger!” Dan’s footsteps sound from the pool’s door. I thought he had late practice today. He must’ve ditched after I texted that I wasn’t coming to school because I’m sick.
Best friend ever.
“Thank God! I’ve been dying of boredom.” I throw the sketchpad on the chair and jump up. “You better be ready for some Viking marathoning and me kicking your arse at pool.”
Dan winces, stopping not far from the door. My eyes widen when the other figure strolls ahead of Dan.
His light, devil eyes twinkle and his lips curve in a smirk. “I’m game.”
15
Astrid
I’m not playing this game anymore. Stop dragging me to the chessboard.
* * *
The last person I expected to see standing in my house is only a short distance away.
He’s wearing his uniform in that nonchalant, tousled way and of course, no tie. I hate how stupid tall he is and how that tugging starts at the bottom of my stomach.
No, not tugging.
It’s a rolling wave of anger about to crack me open.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I bite out.
“Daniel mentioned you were sick,” Levi says ever so casually while advancing towards me in predatory strides. “I came to wish you better.”
More like to ensure that he got me where he wanted.
“Get out.” I motion at the door, throwing a glare at Dan.
I can’t believe he brought the devil to our little heaven without a warning.
Worst best friend ever.
“Woah. Slow down, Astrid.” Dan gives a lopsided smile and offers Levi an apologetic one. “She’s not usually like this, Captain.”
Sure thing, Dan. I’m not usually bitchy with the one who’s out to destroy my life.
I don’t know if I want to pull his hair or kick him in the balls for bringing Levi here like we’ve been long lost friends.
Dan reaches me in a few strides and I jab him in the side, earning a groan. He smothers my hair back and whispers. “Be nice. My game depends on it.”
I want to tell him and his game to go suck it, but I’m not that type of bitch. My problem with Levi has nothing to do with Dan. I don’t want him to be the collateral damage of whatever war we’re having.
Besides, Dan wouldn’t have brought him if he knew what happened last night.
Or at least, I hope so.
The reason I didn’t tell him is because I feel cowardly and weak.
“I’m going to see if Sarah has some smoothie left.” Dan pats my shoulder one last time and saunters inside before I can stop him.
Damn Dan. I hope Sarah doesn’t have any smoothie for him.
It hits me then that I’m all alone with Levi.
The same Levi who terrorised me yesterday.
My courage from earlier withers away,
and I’m back to the helpless fool from yesterday.
I gulp, doing everything in my might to avoid his gaze, despite the holes he keeps digging in my face.
“Your father didn’t tell you not to mingle with Cliffords?”
“I don’t have a father,” he says casually. “But my uncle warned me.”
“Then why didn’t you listen?” I peek at him through my lashes.
His eyes spark with pure trouble. “I’m not good at listening to warnings.”
“Then be my guest.” I can’t help the sarcasm in my voice. “I’d love to see Dad’s reaction when he finds you here. We have Grandfather’s shotgun that hasn’t been used in a long time.”
I flop on the lounge chair and snatch a cold bottle of water. My gaze gets lost in the blueness of pool, pretending he doesn’t exist.
Easier said than done.
His presence fills the space and ripples with something uncomfortable and pulling at the same time.
“Harsh, princess.”
A shadow looms over my sitting position, blocking the afternoon sun and sucking the air from my vicinity like a grim reaper.
My gaze slides up his body to the pressed uniform trousers with both hands in his pockets. His messenger bag is flung across his broad chest and rests on his side. I can’t help pausing at the way his team’s jacket stretches over his developed shoulders like a second skin.
I stop when I finally reach his face.
People as evil as Levi shouldn’t be born with such a sinfully attractive face. Why do they get everything when they’re supposed to be less than nothing?
“Harsh?” I spit out. “I’ve been in two near-death situations because of you. How about that for harsh, King?”
“First of all, I had nothing to do with your first near-death situation. You can’t blame me for all your misfortunes just because you’re bitter.”
“You sure didn’t stop it.”
“I’m not exactly privy to the future, princess.”
“Anyone with enough decency would’ve helped me that day.”
“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I don’t have any of that decency.”