by Ella Miles
She steps forward out of her bedroom, still wearing a robe.
“Yes?”
I glance back to Liesel.
“Phoenix, you’re in charge of Liesel.”
Liesel’s eyebrows draw up.
I glance to Phoenix, and she nods solemnly.
Then I lock the door again and pull my phone out. I start making calls to arrange for a flight, walking around the house with Liesel on my heels.
“How are you going to fly somewhere when you killed the pilot?” Liesel hollers.
“You killed Ken?” Joel asks.
I growl at him.
Joel moves out of my way and doesn’t ask any other dumb questions.
Liesel, on the other hand, continues to run after me as I head to my car.
I unlock my Range Rover and open the door.
Liesel is there to grab the door before I climb inside.
“You didn’t kill the pilot, did you?”
I don’t answer her.
“You’re a piece of work. You just did that to scare me.”
She takes a step back.
“When will you be back?” she asks.
“When I save my girl.”
My words cut her. She doesn’t know who I’m talking about. All she hears is the my girl part. I’m talking about a woman I seem to care about more than her. I see the jealousy in her eyes.
When I return, Liesel will make me pay for that.
But just as quickly as it came, the jealousy is gone.
She wasn’t able to do that before. I’m guessing it has to do with her having trouble feeling anything anymore.
“Whoever she is, save her like you didn’t save me.”
“I won’t fail.” I slam the door and drive away, while Liesel watches me leave her, like so many times before.
25
Liesel
Who is she?
Who is the woman Langston dropped everything for? At a moment’s notice no less, scrapping all of his plans for the day.
She’s a lucky woman, whoever she is. Even when we were best friends, Langston never looked at me with that much worry or concern in his eyes. He never ran the second I called.
Who is she?
Who is he running to save?
Who does he love?
All those questions burn through my head as I watch Langston drive off.
Is she a girlfriend?
A woman he wishes was his?
Is it Kai or Siren?
Who?
It’s like a punch to the gut. My world spins. My eyes slant into slits of anger.
I’m jealous.
For a split second, I wish I was the lucky girl to whom Langston is running.
“Snap out of it. Langston is a cruel, sadistic killer. Nobody wants to be loved by a man like that,” I coach myself.
I walk back inside the house just as Joel heads back into his bedroom and slams the door shut. He doesn’t care about protecting us. He’s useless. I doubt I see him out of his room again.
I head into the kitchen, where Amelia is making breakfast. She’s holding a plate of food, which I assume is for me.
“Thanks, I’ll just eat it out—”
Amelia takes a bite of the toast on the plate. “There are groceries in the fridge. I hope you know how to cook.”
She flashes me an annoying, sarcastic grin before she takes her breakfast out on the patio, where I usually eat it.
“Bitch,” I mutter under my breath.
I’m alone.
And I’m not hungry.
I stare at the door Langston had to unlock to relay an instruction. There is a woman who lives in the other half of the house.
Who is she?
I walk to the solid wood door. I put my hand on the door handle and twist.
It’s locked.
I jiggle the door handle a couple more times just to be sure, but the door is definitely locked.
I consider spending all my time trying to break in, but I have more important things to do today. I need to find a way off this island before Langston returns.
I run upstairs to Langston’s bedroom.
I search for his phone, his laptop, any electronic device that I can use to contact Waylon.
God, Waylon, I miss him.
Langston is a bit of a minimalist. He has a nightstand with no drawers. His dresser only has clothes in the top two drawers and the bottom drawers are empty. His bathroom only holds the absolute basics—toothbrush, soap, towels. I find nothing useful.
I search all the guest bedrooms.
I search the library.
I search the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. I search the entire house but find no phone, no computer, no tablet. Nothing that can help me contact Waylon.
I grab a banana from the counter for energy, not bothering to cook anything while I think about what to do next.
My eyes linger on the door again.
The door that has remained locked the entire time I’ve been here.
It has to be locked for a reason.
My guess is a computer and phone sit on the other side of that door, maybe in Langston’s office.
I shove the last bite of banana in my mouth while I listen carefully, trying to determine if anyone else is in the house.
I don’t hear Amelia or Joel. I don’t hear maids cleaning. The house is eerily quiet.
I grin and pull a bobby pin from my hair while I walk to the locked door. Hopefully, it will lead to a phone, computer, or some way to contact the outside world on the other side.
There are security cameras watching me, but Langston is on a plane right now to God knows where, and Joel is probably passed out drunk on his bed, ignoring me.
I hated growing up with a group of monsters who knew how to hold a gun before they hit puberty. They also knew how to hack security cameras and break into any room.
I jostle the door handle and then insert the bobby pin, easily popping the lock.
I smile slyly when I open the door. I can’t believe that Langston didn’t use more than a simple lock to keep me out.
My smile is quickly wiped away at my realization. If he was truly hiding something important, something he didn’t want me to have, he’d have made it harder.
There is a long hallway before the second half opens up.
I gasp when I see the living space.
It’s big and grand—made of marble, quartz, and all the shiny things of a modern fairytale castle. The ceiling on this half of the house is double the height of the other side. The decor is 11th-century castle with a modern touch, not beachy, warm, and full of nature like the rest of the house.
But the biggest difference of all is how dark it is. There are windows, but they are all covered with heavy, black-out curtains. You wouldn’t even know you are on the beach in this half of the house.
A woman suddenly appears from deep down the hallway. I didn’t hear her because I was too entranced by the house. It’s like two houses in one. Two separate lives.
Why did Langston create a house that was half my dream and half this? Whose dream house is this?
The woman folds her arms as she stares at me wordlessly. She has short, choppy hair dyed bright red, so I have no idea what her natural color is. Her skin is toned and unmarked with scars or tattoos. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and dark jeans, not clothes one might wear while living in a beach mansion.
“Phoenix?” I ask, using the name I overheard Langston say.
She stares at me, sizing me up.
“I’m Liesel. I’m wondering if I can borrow your phone?”
On my last syllable, I’m tackled to the ground as if I was aiming a gun at Phoenix’s head or something.
“Get off me,” I yell as I try to break free of whoever tackled me. It’s not Phoenix, she’s still standing wordlessly a few feet in front of me.
“Don’t move,” Joel says. Suddenly, I feel the barrel of a gun against my temple.
I immediately stop moving, sto
p resisting, and let him pin me to the ground.
“Good girl,” Amelia says.
“Amelia?” I glance out of the corner of my eye and see Amelia holding the gun to my head, while Joel applies his full weight to my back.
She smirks at me.
“So, you really aren’t a chef?”
“Oh, I can cook. I just also know how to use a weapon.”
“Get up,” Joel says, yanking me to my feet.
“Is it really necessary to keep pointing that gun at my head?” I snark at Amelia.
She tilts her head. “We were told to keep you out of here at all costs.”
I roll my eyes. “You were also told to cook for me, and you were told to keep me safe. You’ve both already failed.”
I look between the two. “And I’m pretty sure if you killed me, Langston wouldn’t be too happy. Am I right?”
Joel grabs my hair and sniffs along my neck.
I freeze at his touch, my mind going back to all the times I’ve been tortured like this.
“Kill me, and Langston will kill you. I’m not afraid of you,” I say, keeping my voice calm and steady. They can try to intimidate me all they want, but they can’t kill me without dealing with Langston’s retaliation.
Joel twists my arm, hard. “We might not be able to kill you, but we sure as hell can punish you for breaking one of Langston’s rules.”
“Sweet dreams, princess.” Amelia hits me hard on the head. It’s the last thing I remember.
I lift my head and regret it immediately.
My head feels like a knife was jabbed into my forehead and then twisted around.
“Son of a bitch,” I groan.
I try to sit up more carefully this time, when I feel the tug of a rope around my wrists.
“Really?”
I glance around the room. I’m in Langston’s bed, tied by the wrists to one of the bedposts. Otherwise, the room is empty.
I doubt Langston is back from his expedition, so Joel and Amelia had to be the ones to tie me up.
I take careful inventory of my body as my breathing speeds.
What did they do to me?
I start at my toes and work my way up my body.
No broken bones.
No bruises.
My clothes are still on.
I exhale a heavy breath.
That doesn’t mean that they won’t do something to me—torture me, rape me.
I have to get out of here.
As much as Langston thinks he has his employees under control, I doubt he told them to knock me out or tie me up. Langston may like to threaten my life, he may torture me, but he’s a control freak. He won’t like his employees taking matters into their own hands.
I test the rope tying my hands together. It’s a good knot—the person who tied it clearly knows how to tie a knot. But they don’t know how to keep a woman like me tied up.
A woman who Langston tied up in the third grade after I stole his favorite Hot Wheels car and threw it in the river. I had rope burn for a week after that. Langston got in so much trouble from his dad. His apology involved teaching me how to get myself out of any binding. We practiced all summer until he could never use that power over me again without me being able to escape.
So untying a sailor’s knot is no problem for me. Joel could have made it more difficult if he hadn’t used a traditional knot and just tied me up any which way. That would have thrown me for a loop, made it more difficult to undo.
I’m out of the simple knot in three seconds.
I take a second to consider my options. Glancing out the window, the sun is just beginning to set.
I could barricade myself in the bedroom and hope Joel or Amelia don’t come check on me, but how long can I last? How long until Langston comes home?
No, I don’t want to be in this house.
I don’t know what Joel and Amelia planned after they tied me up, but I’m not going to wait around to find out. I head to the bathroom balcony and climb over. I scale down the vines, this time with more agility now that I know the easiest path down.
I land on my feet and stare back at the house. Neither Joel nor Amelia come running for me immediately, which gives me time to get away.
I head straight for the ocean. I figure if I run toward the beach, then I can head into the jungle and live off of coconuts until Langston returns and finds me.
I run as fast as I can down the cliffside, so fast that I don’t notice her until I’m right on top of her.
Phoenix.
She’s sitting in the spot where Langston and I have met every night at sunset.
It’s sunset.
There is a bottle of alcohol and two shot glasses sitting next to her.
“Care to join me?” Phoenix asks without glancing back at me.
I raise an eyebrow as I cautiously near her. I wish I had a gun, a weapon, something. She wasn’t the one who knocked me out, but she did stand by and watch Joel and Amelia drag me off.
“Who are you?” I ask, standing a few feet away from her instead of sitting down.
“I’m Phoenix; I work for Langston.”
“Why do you live in a locked and walled off part of the house?”
Phoenix smiles and looks out to the ocean. “It’s part of my job. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
I shake my head. “That I don’t believe. Langston wouldn’t allow any of you to kill me. He wants to do that himself.”
Phoenix laughs and finally turns to look at me. “That he does, so I think it’s best we don’t talk about me. That way, neither of us has to kill the other.”
“What are you doing?” I nod toward her two glasses of drinks.
“I was instructed to meet you out here every night at sunset, drink a bottle of scotch with you, and try to get you to spill your secrets.”
I glance down. “That’s a bottle of tequila, not scotch.”
She scrunches up her face. “I’m not really a scotch fan, and I don’t really plan on getting any secrets out of you. But I figured I should at least attempt to do the job Langston gave me so I don’t get fired, unlike those idiots back at the house.”
I smirk as I rub the spot where the rope started to dig into my wrists. “Yea, I’m going to enjoy watching those assholes burn when Langston gets back.”
Phoenix grabs the tequila bottle and pours us both a shot.
Then she holds out a glass to me, waiting patiently for me to sit.
“Can you just sit and drink the tequila, so Langston can see that I tried on the security footage?”
“Fine, but only because I want the tequila.” I sit down on the sand next to Phoenix, who is still wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt despite the heat.
I want to be nosy and ask her about it. I want to ask a lot of questions, but based on her appearance, the Langston employee uniform, she must really work for him. My guess is she’s a hacker who controls the security cameras. She’s probably been watching me this entire time.
Instead of talking, I throw my tequila shot down my throat, enjoying the fiery burn.
“How long have you known Langston?” Phoenix asks me.
I raise an eyebrow as I hold out my glass. She pours me another shot.
Apparently, she doesn’t know Langston and I’s story. Or if she does, she’s playing dumb.
“We met in high school,” I lie.
I take the second shot.
“What about you?”
“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” she replies.
I blink rapidly. There is no way Langston has known this woman since they were kids. I knew Langston back then. We used to hang out every day. I would have known this woman, too, if that were true. She’s lying just like I am.
“So you go way back. When did you start working for him?”
“Really? We are going to talk about boring topics when we could be trading dirt on Langston?” Phoenix smiles.
“Fine, tell me an embarrassing story from his childhood.�
��
Phoenix’s smile falters for just a moment before she starts talking. “We were eight. Langston crashed his bike racing me down a hill. He broke his arm and cried like a baby. I nicknamed him crybaby after that, and I’ve called him that ever since.”
I nod, she’s a good liar. She hardly hesitated before launching into the story. It had just enough detail but not too much.
“There’s only one little problem with your story,” I say.
Phoenix frowns.
“Langston didn’t get his first bike until he was twelve. I was there the first day he learned to ride it. He made me hold on to it while he rode it, and when I let go, he fell and skinned both of his knees. And yes, he did cry, but he didn’t break an arm. That didn’t happen until he was fifteen, was drunk, and fell out of a tree.”
Phoenix bites her bottom lip, caught in her lie.
I hold out my drink.
She refills both mine and hers.
I hold out my shot glass. “To being good liars.”
She clinks her glass to mine, and we both do the shot together.
“Sorry I lied.”
“I’m not. And I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks Langston is a crybaby.”
We both start laughing.
“He’s also a control freak,” she says.
“A sadistic bastard.”
“Fucking secretive asshole.”
“An obnoxious liar.”
We give each other a knowing look.
“But hot as hell,” we both say at the same time before cracking up laughing again. It’s probably the tequila warming me to Phoenix. I don’t have girlfriends; I don’t even have girls that I like. My only friends have been boys. So why do I feel an instant connection to Phoenix? Like in a different life, we could have been best friends?
“You ever slept with him?” I ask, jealousy hanging in the air.
“You think I’m going to answer that question honestly?”
I sigh. “Nope. I wouldn’t either.”
We both sit silently after that.
I don’t gain any answers about who Phoenix is. I don’t know if she’s on my side or not. I don’t know anything about her, but I feel a strange connection to my soul. The fact that we can sit silently under the stars, having just met and it not be awkward, tells me all I need to know.