Shards of Us

K.R. Caverly

Chapter One

I enter Hotel de Galaxias as I always do: with my head down, my heart pounding. I can feel the red lipstick on my lips, the dark black dress snug against my body, and the familiar warmth in my stomach that races through me. My whole body is a rush of excitement and anxiety as I step through the double-doors into the huge, luxurious lobby. Chandeliers hang above me, and a silky purple carpet stretches the expanse of the floor, all warm and cozy beneath my feet. A few people play on flutes and violins by the fire in the corner, and others dressed in suits and extravagant dresses surround the lobby, drinking cocktails and laughing and talking with one another. The buzz of activity fills the air, but there is a certain softness to it, a quietness, like they're all talking in hushes as if they expect something terrible to happen.

Once I'm inside, I nod at the man at the front desk, who wears a sharp tuxedo and whose blonde hair is combed to the side. He smiles warmly at me, nodding toward the stairs. He knows me, of course, and he knows Sebastian has already paid for the night's stay. I've been here so many times before, it's almost a ritual at this point, one I can't do without. Sebastian is my addiction, my everything, but that doesn't even bother me. Nothing so incredibly right could ever bother me.

The air is warm here, toasty, and it wipes away the shivers from the snow outside. My body tingles as I reach the carpeted stairs, taking three at a time, knowing he is waiting for me just two floors up.

I've always loved Wednesdays, because Wednesdays mean Sebastian, and Sebastian means happiness. He is the one person who never fails to make me feel okay, feel normal. No--he makes me feel better than normal. He makes me feel alive. And I haven't felt alive since my parents died two years ago.

I brush my long black hair over my face as I make my way up the stairs, making myself as inconspicuous as possible. A few people pass by me, so I stay to the edge of the stairwell, practically flattening myself against the wall. I remember what Sebastian always told me: "don't get noticed. Not ever." And if there's one thing I've learned from these last four months, it's that Sebastian should always be obeyed.

Once I reach the third floor, the conversations from the lobby have totally faded. Light music pulses throughout the hallway, the sort of dance beat that makes me feel like I'm in some sort of club. My feet ache in my black high heels as I walk down the hall, and I hear the steady sound of my earrings hitting my neck--pat, pat, pat. I hate dressing up, but I know Sebastian likes it, and so I do it. I do lots of things for Sebastian.

One day, I wore makeup to the room, and Sebastian told me never to again. He said he didn't want me to look fake. He said he wanted me to be his. All his. And so… well, I obeyed that too.

I became his.

And I haven't turned back since.

I look around the hallway before heading to our room. No one is around. Perfect.

My legs carry me all the way down the red carpeted hall, past the small lights hanging over each room until I stop at the end, at the large brown door with the number "364" in thick brass numbers. A "DO NOT DISTURB" sign is already hanging on the doorknob. I can't help but smile at that. Sebastian must be ready to get right to get down to business.

I'm keenly aware of the pounding in my temples, the anticipation building up inside of me as I reach for the knob. My whole heart feels like it's in my throat, and my body hums with the familiar desire Sebastian gives me. I try to envision what he looks like today as I push open the door, try to figure out what he has in store for the night, what he will do to make me happy this time.

That's his goal, he says. His goal is to make me happy. And my goal is to make him happy in return. It's perfect, really, the way our relationship is set up. No questions. No drama. Just pure, unadulterated pleasure.

The door creaks as it opens, until after a minute, it hits the side of the wall with a little shudder. I hold my breath and step inside, closing the door behind me.

The room is dark. Pitch black, actually. I can still hear the steady thrumming of music in the distance, can feel the softness in the air, like a far-off song, thick with emotion. Sebastian is here. I know it then. I can feel him here--everywhere. I can feel his cocky little smile, the heat of his body, the feel of his hard muscles around my back. I can almost taste his skin, can just imagine trailing my tongue down his body, making a circle around his erection. The possibility is so close, so close it makes my body hum with energy.

I look around, feeling my throat catch. Everything creaks. The floorboards, the walls, the bed in the middle of the room. Winter wind howls outside, sending a shiver down my spine. My eyes search for Sebastian, but I find nothing.

Nothing.

No one.

My heart races in my chest, and the air in the room tickles at the hairs on the back of my neck, making my skin prick. Where is he? I ask myself.

I spin around. Still nothing.

Is he even here?

Then, as on cue, a light goes on in the corner of the room. Right behind me.

I freeze, and ever so slowly turn to face whoever is here.

My gaze rests on a broad smile, which reveals two rows of perfectly white teeth. A thick, recently-shaven jaw is clenched below it, lips parted into a perfect circle. And then I look from his mouth to his eyes, and my heart beats faster. He's always had beautiful eyes. Such a deep blue, so strong, like a lake frozen over, like glass about to shatter.

I stare at him for the longest time, feeling the intensity between us, the heat that ripples between our bodies, until he finally speaks. "I've been waiting for you, angel," Sebastian whispers so softly it's as if it isn't even there.

"Sebastian," I breathe, my voice filled with desire.

He smiles, a wide, crooked, toothy smile. Long dark hair is parted across his forehead, all wavy and curly and perfect. His skin is sun-kissed, his lips thick and parted in that utterly kissable kind of way. I can see the muscle in his biceps, the way his shirt rolls off his chest and reveals a slice of muscular stomach, the hunger in his blue eyes.

Our gazes lock for a long moment. Heat rips through me as his eyes linger on mine, and I feel like everything is disappearing at our closeness, like Sebastian and I are in a whole new galaxy of a sudden. Like it really is just us--just us and the pieces of our broken pasts.

I know nothing about Sebastian, not really, and he knows nothing about me. All we know about each other is that we both are alone this world. Both of us have no real friends, no family left, no nothing left. I don't know Sebastian's real name, don't know where he works, don't even know where he's from or why he's here. I just know that he makes me feel better, makes me feel like I'm not so alone in this world, and for now, that's all I need.

Sebastian and I have three rules:

1) No sex.

2) No personal questions.

3) No leaving the hotel room until morning. Not ever.

We meet here every Wednesday night and have for the last four months. We're here to heal each other, really, heal the brokenness in our lives. Nothing more, nothing less. There's no sex involved in our relationship, no love, no emotional feelings, no strings attached. All that we have is each other.

It's a perfect set up, in a way, and I've learned not to question it--or him. After Sebastian and I met in a club one night and hit off so much that he proposed this little arrangement, I've felt happy. Truly happy. My what the therapists call "horrendous case of low-esteem and depression"--I guess that's what happens when you lose everyone you care about, and then soon after your one passion in life in one fatal week--has even gone away for now, so I don't have any reason to say no to all of this. Sebastian would never hurt me. We both know that. So it's not like there's any sort of risk to go along with it.

"Come to me, my angel," Sebastian coos after a minute. His words always sound so soft and poetic, like a distant song only I can hear.

I obey. My long black dress touches the floor as I walk over to him, feeling the gust of wind on the small of my back, where the dress wraps around. He stands up as soon as I'm in front of him, his eyes not leaving mine. Gently, he reaches out a thumb and touches it to my chin, rubbing his finger back and forth and back and forth along my skin. His body is so close that I can feel his heat wrapping around my body. I feel his breath on my lips, the tingling sensation I get when I'm this close to him. I press against him further, wrapping my arms around his well-muscled body and savoring it, savoring him, as everything else washes away.

"You are my everything," he whispers into my ear.

"I know," I whisper as he moves his fingers from my chin to my lips, trailing them in circles ever so slowly. I close my eyes, savoring the taste of his skin, wanting nothing more than for him to move his finger down lower and lower.

Just the thought makes me all anxious.

Hotel room 364 is huge. It's a suite Sebastian is always able to get for us--I have no idea how. He always pays for it, tells me it's perfectly safe, and so I don't question it. It's not like he has any reason to lie. The walls are long and perfectly white, stretching into another room. The air smells perpetually like roses and shampoo, and it's thick, intense, like him. Brown lacquered floorboards stretch across the expanse of the apartment, cool under my feet. A large dresser sits behind Sebastian's leather chair, and a couch and television are positioned in the adjoining room, with a refrigerator full of beverages beside it. A single chandelier hangs in the bedroom, where we are now. I look up at it as Sebastian brushes his lips against the space below my chin, nipping at my soft skin. The chandelier is always shining and moving, I realize, making a million tiny clinks as the pieces of glass hanging from it hit each other.

The bed in the center of the room is huge and soft, and the creamy white covers are filled with rose petals Sebastian leaves every week, forming a simple diamond.

The diamond symbolizes me. He got the idea from my name--Crystal--saying that I really am a crystal, or, more accurately, a diamond. My soul is pure and rock-hard, he says. Unbreakable. Unshatterable. Untouchable by anyone but him.

I'm his diamond.

His angel.

And he's my savior.

Sebastian stops with his slow kisses after a minute. He pulls back and watches me for a while, taking me in, and I take him in too. He really is the kind of person I should be afraid of: handsome and slick and 100% mysterious. He's tough on the outside, like he's been through a lot. I can see it in the scar on his jaw, in the hardness of his skin and the gruffness of his voice. But something about him is so tender, so raw and real and hurt as I am, and it just makes me want to stay with him, heal him, maybe even love him so much more. I don't understand my feelings for Sebastian. I don't understand my attraction to him. But I think that's the point. Because if I don't understand it, I can never lose it like I did with everything else. And let me tell you this: I don't want to lose Sebastian.

I don't want to lose the one person I have left, even if I will never really know him.

"Want to hear a joke?" Sebastian asks after a while, with that distant look in his eyes, like he's thinking about me in as many inappropriate ways as I'm thinking about him.

I raise my eyebrow, biting back a smile. I never really could predict what Sebastian did or said. Maybe that's what I liked about him. I liked that he was so mysterious, so hard to make sense of. "A joke?"

"Yes, angel," he says, stepping back, seemingly deep in thought. "A joke. I'm capable of them too, you know."

I feel myself smile. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Okay." He moves closer to me, kissing my cheek ever so slowly, his tongue dragging against my skin, and then pulling back. "Ready?"

I savor the feel of him against me. "Ready."

His eyes light up a little. He's always liked challenges. "Knock knock," he says, watching me intensely.

I play along, hiding my smile. "Who's there?"

"Sebastian."

"Sebastian who?"

He doesn't take his blue eyes off of me as he says, "Sebastian who is not wearing any clothes."

I almost laugh. Almost. My heart skips a beat at the heat of his stare, feeling the tingles he gives me creeping into my skin. "Was that just a trick to get me turned on, Sebastian who is not wearing any clothes?" I say to him.

"Of course," he says, jaw tight, smile perfect and seamless. He keeps staring at me, dancing his tongue between either end of his mouth, and I'm so fascinated with the movements of his lips that I feel myself gravitating closer and closer to him. I can't resist him. I can't resist him and he knows it. "Now, more importantly," Sebastian says, "did it work?"

He's dressed in a tux and black bowtie, his dark pants smooth against his thighs. My eyes focus on the bulge in his pants, and I realize how much I want him there, but can't have him--big thanks to rule #1. I have to work not to squirm at thoughts of Sebastian and me, of him inside of me, and a blush comes over me, hard and warm.

When I was a kid, my parents were total workaholics. They were sports agents, always have been, and they always went on business trips, both across the U.S. and across the globe. Half of the week every week until I turned eighteen they were away from the house, away from me, leaving me at home and totally alone. Sometimes they never even told me they were leaving; they just left. But I still loved them. I still needed them more than anything, especially when I failed out of college sophomore year, and I had them, until two years ago.

Or at least, I told myself I loved them.

Whenever I was sad, I always used to throw myself into dance. I loved it with every fiber of my being. It was a part of me, a piece of my soul I couldn't reverse. The routines, the people, the bliss it gave me--all of it became one with my mind and heart. Dance helped me escape everything else, kind of like Sebastian does, but more than that, something about dance always pulled me in. There was something beautiful about all of the different movements and poses, something magical in the stories dance told. Dance made me feel free, made me feel alive, made me feel whole, but then I lost it, like I lost everything else.

Two years ago, after my parents were murdered in what the police determined to be a robbery, I felt like I had nothing left. Depression had eaten away at me for a long time, but I always clung to the fact that I still had people in my life, people that mattered to me, people that I couldn't leave, to keep me from doing anything to stupid. But then, just like that, all that was gone. And I had no one.

I was twenty the night I attempted suicide a few days after their murder, but it of course didn't work. I tried to jump off of our three-story building, to break myself and my body once and for all, but the only I thing I ended up breaking was my leg and all chance at ever dancing again. Now all that's left of me is a bunch of shards, shards Sebastian is trying to put back together.

Sebastian always told me that dance made me graceful, angelic, supple, like my movements were the key to a world filled with delight he wanted to unlock in me. He said I was an acrobat because of my dance past, and not just an acrobat in bed. He said something about me--the way I walked, the way I thought, the way I was--was so smooth and graceful, so perfectly wonderful, it was like I was always performing for him. And sometimes, just sometimes, I think he's right about that. In a way, I'm always performing for him, and I don't want to stop.

Sebastian is the audience member who I'm effortlessly pleasing, and he is returning the favor.

I take a step toward him now. He watches me carefully, with that hawk-like expression of his, waiting with a gentle amusement to see what I do next. "Yes," I whisper hoarsely. My eyes lock with his, and the connection I feel makes my heart speed up. "Yes, it worked."

Sebastian's eyes are on fire all of a sudden, burning into my skin. His gaze makes me feel so hot, inside and out, and suddenly all I want is to press against him again and more. I watch his lips come closer to me, feel the hardness between his thighs pressing against me. "Then do it," he growls, his eyes searching mine. "Take it off."

And holy hell, I don't need to be told twice.

I don't take my eyes off of him as I slowly slip off my dress. Quick and easy. Check. Then, ever so slowly, I unhook my bra. He watches me with such intensity it makes me want him even more as I unhook the first strap, then the second, and then, to his delight, the bra falls away, hitting the ground with a soft pat. I reach for my panties next, but instead he says, "Allow me."

Everything freezes in that instant. Everything slows. The space between us is totally gone, and it's like all of the air is sucked out of the room as Sebastian reaches his hand for my panties, tracing his finger along the soft skin on my inner thigh, tingles racing through me. I gasp and feel my back arch back, stopping and staring at him, wanting nothing more than for his fingers to inch up further and further. He touches my hot, tingling skin slowly, softly, like he's petting a bird's feather. His fingers move to my panties, and the next thing I know, they're slipped off. My panties hit the floor softly, but not once do I take my eyes off of Sebastian, and he doesn't take his off of me. We just stand there, staring. I'm totally naked now and I don't even care. My whole body is hot and tingly and humming with energy, and I'm full aware of the need coursing through me, the intensity between us. We stand there, not breathing, not moving, for what feels like eternity. Sebastian shifts his body closer to me. I can see he's as aroused as I am, can feel it in the electricity in the air. It's like we aren't even here anymore, like we've been taken into another dimension, one full of heat and desire and no air to breathe.

Finally, Sebastian takes off his clothes. He strips of his pants and tux before I can even blink. His undershirt is the next to go, and I find myself infatuated with the muscle rippling across his abs and chest, with the perfect arch of his body. Then, finally, he slips off his boxers. I gasp as soon as my eyes lock on his erection. It's not that I've never seen it before, but it never fails to turn me on. My belly feels hotter and hotter all of a sudden, like a deep and carnal tension waiting to be released.

He presses up against me then, his naked body against mine, his erection against my legs, so raw and real and vulnerable it makes everything else wash away. The wind continues to howl and I know it's totally freezing outside but in here, in this little room, in this safe zone with Sebastian, it's a furnace. Everything feels on fire. Everything feels so intense it's like I will die if I can't have him.

"Can I have you, angel?" he says fiercely, eyes burning into mine.

My heart rate picks up speed. "I'm all yours," I whisper, my body aching for him to touch me. And then he kisses me. Hard and passionate and real. I kiss him back, my lips numb and on fire all at once. I kiss him with such ferocity it's like kissing him is breathing, and I need to keep his lips and his body on mine if I want to keep myself from crumbling. My body buzzes with energy and desire, and his lips are hot and heavy against mine. His tongue tickles at my lips at first, then slips slowly into my mouth and I try to close my eyes and let everything else but this kiss slip away, but I can't stop staring into Sebastian's deep eyes. They're full of need. Hunger. So much it makes me work to keep from him touching me more.

And then, all of a sudden, he pulls back. I gasp for breath, but he doesn't even seem fazed. His eyes stay fixed on mine, watching me intently, and then he's pressed against me again.

His kiss starts at my chin, then move slowly down my neck, my collarbone, until he stops at my breast. My body tingles and aches all at once as he kisses teasingly around my breast--slowly, softly. His lips move in a circle, moving closer and closer, nipping at my breast until he's fully kissing it. Then, he opens his mouth, and tongues my nipple so gently I have to suppress a moan.

"Sebastian," I gasp out, but he already knows what to do. His lips move from breast to my stomach, his hands clutching my side. He trails his kisses down the center of my stomach, and all I want is for him to move lower, lower, lower. I have to force myself to continue breathing as his lips reach my belly button, then the end of my stomach, and then he kisses slower and slower, teasing me, as he reaches my inner thigh. My head sinks back a little, already starting to roll back into my bed, and I wait for it to happen, for him to touch me there, but nothing comes.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Nothing. happens.

He's stopped kissing me now. His lips and tongue stay frozen in place, locked on my inner thigh, and he looks like he's in the middle of intense inner conflict.

"Make me come, Sebastian," I gasp. My skin is hot and tingling, and I can't take the ache anymore. I just need him to be inside of me, that's all I know. I need him to make it all better.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't move. For a long while, his lips stay there, tickling at my soft skin, waiting for something I can't place. I try to keep breathing, focusing on anything but how close he is to finishing this whole thing and how much I want him to.

But then he pulls back, and my whole world comes crashing down.

"No," he says, more to himself than to me. He looks weird, really weird. Almost unsettled. And if Sebastian is anything, it's most certainly not easily unsettled.

"I can't have you there," he says at least, glancing up at me. His eyes look almost pleading. "Not yet."

My hand trembles. I need him to touch me. "Please, Sebastian. Give it to me."

He smiles distantly. "I wish I could. But I can't. Rule #1, my beautiful, my beautiful angel," he coos. "Remember?"

He stands up, but I just keep shaking my head. This can't be happening. Can't. be. happening. "Why not?" I say. "Because you don't love me?"

That takes him aback. He frowns at first, and then the rage starts spreading across his face. "No," he says harshly, his eyes flaring. "Never. I want you, angel. I want you everywhere. I want you so fucking much I can't even understand. But I can't have you. I can't, trust me."

My body starts shaking, and I can't think to do anything but look away. "Then why not?" I whisper, eyes searching the white walls as if they'll give me a solution to all of this.

He doesn't move for a long time. Just watches me, carefully, like he's testing to see if a frozen lake will hold his weight. "I just can't," he says after a while.

And then I don't even know what I'm doing, but the next thing I know I'm throwing on clothes and running to the door. My heart hammers in the chest. I have to leave. I have to leave. I have to leave.

I reach the knob in a few seconds, turn it, and am about to slip out of the room when Sebastian grabs my arm and pulls me back. He spins me around to face him, his eyes a fiery blue, passionate in a way nothing else is.

"Rule number three," Sebastian growls, wrapping his warm and hard arms around me as he shuts the door, then brings me back inside. He doesn't sound angry, just disappointed. "No leaving the hotel room until morning. Never."

"But--" I gasp, feeling hot tears form in my eyes.

"But no," is all he says as he turns back to bed.

I race into the bathroom as the sobs rack through me.

Chapter Two

"Did I upset you, angel?" Sebastian asks when I awake. My head rests on his well-muscled body, the kind of muscle you only get from years of hard labor. His body is like a furnace, and I realize I slept all night with my head on his stomach.

Sebastian is older than me. Two, three years, maybe. I don't know. And I'm not sure I care either.

He strokes my hair with his delicate fingers, kissing my head, and I close my eyes, taking him in. He smells the way men do: of cologne and alcohol, and it's nice on him. Fresh.

"What?" I ask, opening and closing my eyes as I fully awake.

His lips meet my forehead again. Slow and gentle, like he's kissing glass about to shatter. "Did last night upset you?" he repeats. His words are slow and quiet, like honey.

"Oh," I say. I'd already forgotten about last night. But am I upset? I don't even know. Sebastian has this way of making everything else go away, making everything better purely by touching me. It's dangerous, really, but I guess what we have is dangerous. That's the point. Our relationship should be toxic, but it's just… not. It's amazing. Beautiful. Nonsensical.

Perfect.

"I hope you know that I would never want to upset you, angel. Never," he whispers into my ear. "You don't know anything about me, sure, but that doesn't mean I'm here to hurt you. I'm not. Hurting you hurts me, don't you see? I can't do certain things for reasons I can't really say, but that doesn't mean… that this is wrong. What we have here is not a bad thing." His eyes are intense, passionate, as he drags his lips across my forehead, curing the ache in my body. "Nothing is bad when it comes to you."

Sebastian's voice is so raw and strong it takes me off guard. I sit up and lock eyes with him, see the fire in pupils. He cares about me, I realize then. Really cares about me. And no matter how fucked up our little setup is, I guess maybe, in a strange way, I care about him too.

The heater hums below us, creaking every once in a while as hot air is released. The sheets and covers are thrown off the bed, and it's just me and Sebastian lying next to each other, wearing nothing at all.

"Do you love me?" I say after a minute. The words come out of my mouth before I have time to stop them.

He seems a little surprised at the question, or at least as surprised as someone like Sebastian can be. "Why do you want to know?" he says. I don't meet his gaze, but I can tell he's looking down at me, still kissing my forehead slowly and softly.

"Just answer the question, Sebastian." Tears sting at my eyes once the realization strikes again: that there is no one left in this world that stills loves me. That I have no one, not even family, not even friends. I just have Sebastian. And as stupid as it sounds, I just… I want him to love me. I want something real in my life. Whether I know anything about him or not, I need someone who will care about me, who does care about me.

Finally, Sebastian sighs. "I've been through a lot. I'm not sure I know what love is anymore. I've done some things in my life. Bad things. The kind of things that change people, hurt people, and love was never there to rescue when I needed it most. So I don't really know how to love anymore, I guess. I just know how to survive."

There's a long pause. "But you care about me," I say slowly, relaxing at the feel of his body beneath mine. "Don't you?"

"Angel," he whispers, his voice as soft as the faint wind outside. He kisses the top of my head, then my nose, and then his lips find their way to mine. I breathe in slowly as he kisses me, as he expertly dances his tongue along my mouth. "I care about you more than anything else in the world," he whispers in between his kisses. "You are all I have left. All I need. I'm not sure if I can ever love again, but we don't need love, do we? We care so much about each other, are connected so deeply… isn't that what matters? Us?"

His lips are hot on mine, burning into me, and I let him kiss me, let his taste and his skin become one with mine. Sebastian feels good, so good, and I know from the bottom of my heart, whether or not it's love I feel for him, that I can't ever let him go.

That I can't ever lose the one person I have left.

"Yes," I whisper after a while. My voice is rigid, not as soft and smooth as Sebastian, but I don't even care as I kiss him back harder, faster. "We are all that matters," I say in between breaths.

A satisfied smile spreads across his lips, and he wraps his arms around me, drawing me into his chest. "Come here, angel," he whispers into my ear. "Let me make you better."

And so we stay there for the longest time, kissing slowly, then fiercely, and holding each other, just holding each other, until the rest of the world fades away.

* * *

"Maybe he's a virgin," Ash calls after me the next day.

"Who?" I say. She lies on the leather couch in her tiny-as-mine apartment, eating potato chips and watching some pointless reality show while I grab some orange juice from the fridge.

She rolls her eyes. "Sebastian. Your fuck buddy who doesn't fuck."

I frown at her. Technically, Ash is my one friend, although we aren't really friends. I don't especially connect with her, and she doesn't connect with me, either. We work the same shift at Starbucks, and we just hang out because we both know I have nowhere else to be. "What makes you think that?" I follow her into her living room and collapse beside her on the couch.

"For starters, the fact that he asks you to get totally naked but doesn't finish the job."

"So?" I say. I don't understand. Then again, I don't really like anyone else talking about Sebastian--my Sebastian--especially not negatively like this.

She sighs. "So, how do you know he is safe? He could be, like, luring you in, only to murder you and leave you on the side of the road in a few weeks, and then you'll be all over the news. People do that shit, you know," she says to me like she has any idea what she's talking about.

I take a sip of my orange juice. "All right, fine. If you see me dead on the side of the road in a few weeks, you can consider yourself right."

She smiles. "I'm being serious, you bitch."

Cool air slips in through the windows, making me shiver. Ash's living room is small and cramped, holding no more than a single couch, a tiny TV, and a chair shoved in the corner of the room. "And so am I. But Sebastian wouldn't do that. He's not that kind of guy," I say, not doubting my words for a second. I trust Sebastian. I really do. Smart or not, I know he was telling the truth when he said he'd never hurt me.

She sits up, watching me closely. "Why do you think that? Do you even know anything about him?"

I look at my feet to hide the blush creeping into my cheeks. "No."

"So how can you even trust him? All you know is his first name, if Sebastian is even his real name, right?" Her nasal voice is filled with concern.

"And I know his parents are dead," I say quietly. "And so is everyone he cares about."

"Ah yes, his alcoholic family story. Drinking themselves into the ground. Sounds kind of cliché, yes?" Ash shifts closer to me so that her side is touching mine, her eyes full of concern. "Look, Crystal, I know you trust him, but--"

"But what?" I say, maybe too defensively. I know Sebastian isn't lying about having no one, like me. I don't know how, but I know. Sebastian is as broken as I am, pieces of what is left of the person he was. I don't know what happened to him exactly, and I don't care. I just care that he needs me, and I need him back, and the rest can go to hell.

Ash pushes her long blonde hair out of her eyes. "But don't let yourself get too close," she says quietly. "Just in case."

I sigh. "Thanks for the concern, but I trust him. I really do." I look away. "He isn't going to hurt me," I add in a voice that is so quiet it doesn't even feel like mine.

"That's good. All I'm saying is to be careful, okay? I'm your friend, Crystal, whether you like it or not. I don't want to see you get hurt. Or worse..." She trails off.

There's a long pause after that. We both just sit there, on the sofa, listening to the sound of the TV in front of us playing reality shows or whatever, but somehow it feels far-off. I can only think of Sebastian, his touch, the gruff tenderness in his voice as he calls me his angel. I think about what it would be like if we went all the way, if rule number one never existed and whatever is keeping him from fucking me could be gone, and he could be inside of me, really inside of me. It wouldn't be my first time having sex--I've had a lot of hookups in the last two years, but they've never succeeded in getting rid of the raw ache in the pit of my stomach. But Sebastian… Sebastian feels so right, that I can't even imagine him not making the ache go away, the everything but each other disappear.

I'm infatuated with a man I don't even know, and whether I like it or not, he's all I really have left in this world.

"Do you ever wonder about him? About who he really is?" Ash asks for a minute. Her voice is quiet, curious.

I don't hesitate. "Yes," I say, meeting her gaze. "Always."

"And what if you… what if you did know?" She narrows her eyes at me. "Would that make you feel better about this whole thing? I know it would make me feel better."

I pause. Would it really help? I'm fine with not knowing, fine with our perfect setup, but sometimes I think one night a week is not enough. I need Sebastian more than that. I need the real him. And I need him everywhere, all the time. I want to know who he is, I really do. He's the first bright spot in my life since the murder, and maybe I do need to find out more about who he is. He means to me what dancing used to. He's an escape, something that makes my heart beat faster and my body and mind and heart feel connected, something beautiful and heart wrenching and elegant and inexplicable. Something that never fails to cure me. "Yes," I say. "It would help."

A small smile flickers across her lips. "Good. Because I have an idea."

I frown. "Yes?"

The smile expands into a broad, toothy grin. "What if one night, when you leave the hotel in the morning… what if I follow him for you?"

The blood in my head starts pounding. "What?" I say, almost angry.

Her grin grows into a full-on beam. "Like the shit they do in movies. I'll follow him. See where he goes. Find out who he is. He doesn't know me, so he wouldn't even notice, or be able to connect me back to you."

"This isn't a good idea," I say, shaking my head. My stomach is throbbing now. "No, no, no," I say again, more defiantly. "This isn't going to end well."

"C'mon," Ash says. "What's the harm?"

"He seems dangerous," I say. "And we don't know what he'd do if--"

She cuts me off. "You said yourself he wouldn't hurt you, right?"

"Yes," I say slowly. My hand has started trembling. This is a bad idea. Bad. Bad bad bad. Every part of me knows it then, every inch of my mind, every bit of what's left of my sanity. I don't know who Sebastian is. I know he won't hurt me, but he could be dangerous to others. He could hurt Ash if he catches her. Or worse.

But a small part of me, a really stupid, small part of me, is too curious. I want to know who this man is. I want to know the person behind the Sebastian who makes my heart flutter and my insides feel mine again. I want to know who the man who has brought me back into reality is, and I want to understand him, to be with him, to really be with him.

"So he has no reason to hurt me, either," Ash says proudly, like she already knows she's won.

"But--" I protest.

"No buts. This is happening. Unless you tell me you honestly don't want to know who he is right this second. But you want to know," she says, inching closer to me, her smile growing. "Right?"

I drop my head into my lap, defeated. "Yes," I whisper, hating myself for it.

"Good," Ash says, standing up. "We'll plan this later." Then she starts walking out of the room, leaving me in nothing but silence and cool air and the hum of the TV in front of me. My stomach hurts and I want nothing more than to run after her and tell her no, let's not do this, but a part of me knows she's right. I want to know who Sebastian is too much. I want him too much. So I just sit there, shaking, like a pathetic waste of space just as I'd done after I learned my parents had been shot.

"I really think this is a bad idea," I finally whisper out, but she's already gone.

If only I'd listened to my instincts.

* * *

The next week is painfully slow. I spend my days going to my job at Starbucks, talking to Ash, eating, sleeping, and then repeating it all over again.

That's what my life has become: a never-ending repetition. I'm just living to get over the next day, and then the next day, and then the next day, until it's Wednesday and I'm with Sebastian again. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have him to look forward to. I don't know how I'd manage to keep going.

So as the week goes on, all I can think about is Sebastian and when I get to see him again. I think about what he's going to do for me next time, what he's going to say, how he's going to alleviate the pain in my heart that hasn't left since my parents died and I lost my one true passion in dance. I wonder how he's going to touch me, kiss me, hold me. I wonder what he's going to say. And then, just like that, I wonder about his laugh. He doesn't laugh much, which is unfortunate, because when he does, it's the most beautiful sound in the world. All thick and masculine, but genuine too. Warm, almost. Sebastian isn't exactly a warm person, but his laugh is. It's like his laugh doesn't even belong to him, or maybe it's a window, a look into a warm and scared and tortured soul he's kept hidden for so long that maybe he doesn't even remember it exists. I don't know. But one thing is for sure: his life has been worse than just losing his parents. I know, from the hurt that never seems to leave his eyes, that he's been through a lot. I know he wants to love me, wants to fix me like I want to fix him, but he can't.

I just know these things about Sebastian. I don't know why or how.

The rest of the week drags on until finally, it's Wednesday night. I wear a black dress as I enter Hotel de Galaxias, and my heart pounds as soon as I step inside. Music sounds throughout the lobby, and well-dressed business people laugh and dance and sing, happy in their own little worlds. I keep my head down like always, and I walk all the way up to room 364 in my heels, knock twice, and then enter when a deep voice coos, "Come in, my angel."

I smile as soon as I lock eyes on Sebastian. The room is bright this time, all of the overhead lights turned on, and I can make out everything about Sebastian tonight. I notice the way he runs his hand through his wavy dark hair, notice the little dimples at the corners of his mouth, notice the deep tan on his skin from years of… whatever job he does. He smiles when he sees me in the ball gown I decided to wear, adjusts his suit, and steps forward. He touches a finger to the skin beneath my lips slowly, softly, and then he leans in and kisses me. His kiss is slow and meaningful. My lips feel hot and electric, and my body buzzes with the same energy I get whenever Sebastian touches me.

"You came," he whispers as soon as he pulls back, but his lips hover there, in front of mine, as if begging to be kissed more.

I resist the urge to wrap my arms around him and kiss him harder, fiercer. Sebastian has this way of teasing me, nipping at my lips and chest and skin and leaving me wanting so much more. He says it's his way of keeping me on my toes, and holy hell does it work. All I can think about is the next moment we're kissing, or touching, or our clothes are off and he goes inside of me.

"Always," I say. My lips are still tingling as I close the door behind me and step fully inside.

The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling above twinkle in the light, and a soft melody plays from a speaker in the corner of the room, sounding like a kind of lullaby. The whole suite is rich and expensive, polished and smelling of fresh clean, and it's magical, really, dark and haunting and magical, to be here with him. It's an addiction, this room, this night, this man. It's an addiction and I don't want to stop.

Slowly, Sebastian makes his way over to the dresser, where two red wine glasses sit, picks them up, and then takes a seat at the edge of our bed. He pats the space beside him, motioning for me to join him. I obey.

"Today, I want to tell you a story," he says as I sit down. Sebastian's voice is rough and soft all at once, and it sounds so nice that if it were a song, I would play it on repeat. "Come into my arms," he says, and I do. I sit on the edge of his thigh and let him wrap his arms around me. He shifts me to the right so that I'm in his lap, and his arms are across my stomach. Sebastian's body is so hot against mine, and I let myself relax in his arms, pooling away in the strength in security his presence brings.

He rests his chin on my shoulder, whispering, "I'm so glad you're here," into my ear, and then he kisses me softly at the end of my earlobes, nipping at my skin, and it feels so, so right. My body tingles in anticipation of where he might kiss next.

"Do you like that, angel?" he whispers, his tongue moving along my earlobe.

"Yes," I say in between breaths, wanting nothing more than for him to drag his lips down to my mouth, then my breasts, and then lower still.

He smiles, but stops kissing me. "Good," he whispers. "Now are you ready for my story?"

"Always, Sebastian," I whisper, closing my eyes and savoring his touch, the feel of him beside me. His breath is warm and soft, and I can feel the curl of his lips as he smiles, his mouth still so close to my ear.

"Once upon a time, there was a boy." Sebastian's voice is rough in my ear, rough and sexy, and I have to close my eyes, listening to him, letting everything else fade away. "His alcoholic dad beat him when he was only ten and his mom was too cocaine-addicted to do anything about it. He had a brother, too. A little brother, who was only eight at the time, and soon his dad started beating the little brother too. But the boy knew his brother was too young to take it, and so he stood in front of his brother to keep him safe." His voice quiets with each word, dragging them out slowly. His eyes focus sadly on the empty wall in front of him, and suddenly I realize this story is more than just fiction. "The father was enraged by this, and so he took to hitting the boy extra hard, and the boy sucked it all up to save his brother, to keep his brother alive. But then one day, it became too much." My heart starts beating faster. "And the boy… well, the boy died at the hands of his father. The beating became so much that the boy's body couldn't take it. It wasn't until the father realized what he'd done that he started sobbing, trying to save his son, but it was too late. And then he took his own life out of pure desperation, and the little brother who the boy saved was shaking and scared, and he didn't know what to do, so he ran. He left the boy who had saved him, left his mother, left his family. The brother was a coward, but he just didn't know what to do. He ran and ran until a woman he didn't know found him by a pair of dumpsters and took him in as her own son, as she couldn't have one of her own. For ten years she cared for him, loved him, and nurtured him. She homeschooled instead of enrolling him in school, gave him lessons on how to defend himself and how to treat woman and how to make it in the world. And then when he turned eighteen, he left to find a job elsewhere, telling the woman who raised him he'd return soon. But he lied, because he never spoke to the woman again. He always had a way of leaving the people he cared about." Sebastian sighs. His eyes are distant, and he is the closest I've ever seen him to crying. "That brother was me, angel," he says quietly. "I don't have anyone left. Anyone," he whispers into my ear, "but you."

I stiffen up at the tenderness in his words. It takes me a minute to realize that Sebastian just opened up to me--like, really opened up to me. For the first time. Ever. The only time I'd ever opened up to him was to tell him about my parents, and my suicide, and my loss of my dance career, and that's all he knows about me.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, not knowing what else to tell him. Then, I look up to meet his eyes. They look fragile and strong all at once, a fierce blue holding back a deep secret.

"Don't be," he whispers. "Don't ever be sorry." He starts kissing me again, holding me close and letting his warmth wrap around me as he kisses my nose, then my cheek, then, suddenly, my lips. The tension in my body relaxes at his kiss, and I close my eyes and kiss him back, fierce and passionate, moving my body onto his, my breasts against his chest.

I need Sebastian like I need to breathe. I need his kiss to heal me. And he needs me back.

That's the thing about our relationship: we're just there for each other. No questions asked. No worries needed. No drama. No nothing but each other and our feelings and our broken pasts.

"Sebastian?" I ask as he starts nipping at the bottom of my mouth with his lips, sending a wave of tingles throughout my body.

He stops kissing me, but he keeps his lips on mine. "Yes?" he breathes.

I hesitate. "Why did you never talk to the woman again?"

He doesn't answer right away. Just looks away, his stomach heaving, his eyes on the snow-covered window. His face looks distant, and I know he's in deep thought, remembering all everyone did for him and all he left behind. For a while, I just let myself enjoy his warmth, the coziness of his presence, listening to each of his steady breaths, feeling his stomach move up and down and up and down beneath me. I could fall asleep here if I wanted to, I realize. I could stay here forever. I could spend eternity in Sebastian's arms, and I would never be hurt again. He would protect me; he would save me.

My heart aches for him, like physically aches, and all I want to do is to put my lips back on his, to kiss him until everything is okay again. I want to save Sebastian like he saves me.

"Rule number two, angel," he says at last. "No personal questions." He sighs. "Now kiss me to make the pain go away."

I nod, and then our lips lock, and I feel nothing but the tingling in my skin and the numb pleasure of kissing him all night long.

Chapter Three

The next week is all a blur. As hard as I try, I can't stop thinking about what Sebastian told me. It occurs to me numerous times that he's even more damaged than I thought. He's hurt in ways no one can ever understand. Or maybe that's wrong. Maybe the point is, and the reason why he said what he said, is because only I can understand his hurt. Only I know the ache of true loneliness as well as he does. Only I know what it's like to leave everything behind for a future that bears nothing positive. Only I know, and only he knows, and so only we have the power to make each other better.

On Monday, Ash starts putting together our plan for figuring out Sebastian's identity at the end of our shift at Starbucks. I'm wiping down the tables when she comes over to me, wearing a dark green apron, and says, "Wednesday night is the night!" with a big smile on her face.

I grimace. "I know."

She gives me a playful shove. "C'mon, Crystal! Aren't you excited? Finally you get to know who this man of your dreams is!"

"Yeah," I say tiredly, although a part of me I kind of is excited. I want to know who Sebastian is. I really, really want to. I wonder if he owns his own corporation or something, if he's a businessman--he sure dresses like one--or if he's a lawyer, or what. I want to know what else happened to make him so painfully alone. I want to know how he got to be who he is--so strong and rough and controlling, and yet, beneath it all, so tender and hurt. I want to know Sebastian, really know him, and then I want to be with him.

Still, a nagging part of me can't help but think that something is going to go very, very wrong.

"Just yeah?" Ash asks as she joins me in wiping down the table.

I sigh. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? Following him, I mean."

She rolls her eyes. "You worry too much. You know that?"

"And maybe you don't worry enough," I say with a small smile, moving onto another table.

She shrugs. "Fair enough. But seriously, everything is going to be just fine. I'll wait in the lobby when you two leave, and then I'll follow him from a good distance until he goes to a house or business or something that will help us find out who he is. And then I'll leave before he can notice. I watch crime dramas," she adds. "I know how this shit is done."

"Whatever," I say, throwing the cloth I was using in the trash and taking off my green apron. "Just don't get hurt, okay?"

"Okay," Ash says.

She follows me into the bathroom, where I wash my hands. "Trust me," she adds, smiling. "Come Wednesday night, you'll be thanking me for finding out who he is."

"I trust you," I say weakly, turning off the water and wiping my hands with a towel. "I know you'll stay safe."

She smiles at me. "Thanks, Crystal," she says. "I know for a fact nothing will go wrong."

How wrong she was.

* * *

How are you supposed to act when you're about to deceive the one person you care about? The only thing I know about deception is which poses and music you use to represent it in dance, which doesn't exactly help in this situation. I stare at myself in the mirror for the longest time Wednesday night before leaving for the hotel, thinking about Sebastian and what Ash is going to find out about him and how I'm possibly going to come clean about breaking his trust without making him hate me, and also, a little, worrying I won't like what I find out about him.

I dismiss the thought immediately, telling myself Sebastian means so much to me that it doesn't matter who he is or what he does; I'll always care about him. No exceptions. And anyway, I have more important things to worry about. Like how I'm going to break rule number two tonight without Sebastian even knowing. He trusts me--I can see it in his eyes--and I'm still deceiving him. My heart hurts at the thought. I'm deceiving the one person I care about, and for what? For my own curiosity? It's like losing everything I care about all over again, except this time it will be my fault.

I look at myself in the mirror more closely, shaking my head. A pair of sad brown eyes stare back at me, remains of the happy person I once was. My dark hair cascades onto my shoulder, and two cheekbones poke out of my pale face. The red lipstick and mascara brings the rest of me together, but I feel off wearing it today, like everything about this outfit is wrong. My gaze drops down to the black dress snug against my body, and suddenly something about this dress seems especially wrong to me. It's the dress I always wear to my meetings with Sebastian, yes, but today isn't like the other night, and it feels like another level of betrayal to pretend as if it is. So not knowing what else to do, I change from my black dress to a red one.

That was the first sign.

Finally, at about 10 p.m., I hear a knock at my front door. "Come in!" I call. The door clicks open a minute later, and the door swings open.

I spin around to see Ash rushing inside, wearing a fancy white dress and smiling at me. "You ready?" she asks.

"Not a bit." It's the truth.

She sighs. "You don't have to do anything but act normal. I'll do the rest, don't worry. Okay?"

I bite my lip. I can act normal, right? I can do that. Yes. I can do that. "Okay," I manage to say. "I… I'll try.

Her face lights up. "Good. Now," she says, taking my hand and dragging me away from the mirror. "Let's go. You have a sexy man waiting for you in a certain little hotel room."

The thought of Sebastian sitting there, not knowing I'm going to break one of his rules the next morning makes me feel sick. I can't hurt someone I care so much about. I can't. But I also need to know who he is. I need to make sure I'm safe with him, and more than that, I want to be able to take our relationship to another level.

I barely have time to mutter, "Fine" before Ash drags me out of my crappy apartment and into the icy winter air. Snow comes down little by little, white spots amid the night sky. Everything is dark, so dark, and the air feels too thick, kind of, or maybe too hazy. I'm not sure what it is, but right then I know with every bone in my body that something about tonight is off. But still, I say nothing.

That was the second sign.

Ash drives us to Hotel de Galaxia in her red Jeep. It's not a pleasant trip, to say the least. She speeds down the streets and slams on the brakes at every stop sign, jerking me forward against the seatbelt and then soon after, when she hits the accelerator, throwing me back against the seat. Rinse. Repeat.

My heart is in my throat the whole drive there, and not just from her poor driving. Everything about this plan feels so wrong, sends all kinds of alarm throughout my body, but I grit my teeth and tell myself I'm just being paranoid. I tell myself I'll be okay. It's not like one little thing will matter that much, right?

A few minutes later, we arrive at the hotel with a jolt as Ash slams on the brakes. She lets me out of her car with a smile and a blown kiss after that, watching me go. "I'll just park the car in the lot here and will wait either in the lobby or outside your room for when he comes out in the morning," she assures me. "You have nothing to worry about. Now you two lovebirds have a good time."

I force a smile. It's amazing how fake it suddenly feels. "Okay. Thank you."

"Night, Crystal," she calls as she hits the accelerator and starts driving toward the parking lot.

"Night, Ash," I call back, but my voice gets carried off with the wind.

For a minute, I just stand at the steps in front of the hotel, closing my eyes and letting the night air clear my head. I don't want to do this. I really don't want to do this. But I want to know who Sebastian is too badly, and Ash is right--it's not like anything could go wrong. The worst that can happen is he catches her following him and tells her to leave. Sighing, I turn back around and step into the hotel.

The same warm air greets me as soon as I'm inside. The hotel lobby is not as it always is. A red carpet stretches the length of the floor, chandeliers hang overhead, a small fire is positioned in the corner where a pianist plays Beethoven, and a few people in business suits sitting beside her, whispering something in hushed voices over glasses of wine. But other than that, the place is empty. Not a single person sits in the dining room, or on one of the couches, or seems to be waiting in the stairwell. No one. At all.

And if there's one thing I know about this hotel, it's that it's almost always packed.

I frown. "Where is everyone?" I ask the man at the front desk, whose gray moustache seems to have doubled in size since I was last here.

He shrugs. "I don't know, miss. It's odd, huh?"

"Yeah," I say uncertainly, glancing around the completely empty lobby, working hard not to get paranoid. "It's… definitely odd."

That was the third sign.

I shake my head, telling myself it's nothing. I mean, of course it's nothing. It's not like Sebastian could know what I'm about to do, or even if somehow he did, there is no way he could make so many guests leave at once. And there's no reason he'd want to, anyway. It's not like I'm plotting to kill him or anything.

But still, this whole situation just feels… wrong. Like everything else has tonight.

I walk up the stairs with my head down anyway, pretending to be normal, listening to the sound of the Beethoven music fade slowly away…

The hall at the third floor is totally empty. I walk through it with my heart pounding, but the buzz of excitement I usually get at the thought of Sebastian is gone tonight. Once I reach room 364, I stop. My heart pounds faster and faster, and I'm sure the guilt is written all over my face, but I know I have to do this anyway. I take a single deep breath before opening the door.

It creaks open, slow and steady, like they do in haunted houses. I step inside, closing the door behind me, holding my breath.

The room revealed is dark. Pitch black kind of dark. My heart hammers in my chest faster now, and I feel my stomach knot, feel the queasiness setting in. I take a tentative step forward, trying to stay calm.

The air in the room is cold. It's never been cold before. But now, it feels like this whole place hasn't been occupied for years. Another step. I can't see where I'm going. Oh hell, I can't see where I'm going.

"Sebastian?" I call. Nothing. I listen to the thump of my heart, beat, beat, beat.

The room is silent. Deathly silent.

"Sebastian?" I call again. My voice cracks a little, and I can feel my hands shaking. My heart pounds even faster. "Sebastian, answer me. This… this isn't a joke." A sinking feeling washes over me, because there is nothing. Nothing at all.

Then, something creaks behind me.

I spin around immediately. My heart leaps into my throat. But when I scan the area, I see nothing but darkness.

I numbly feel my way over to the chair in the corner where I know the light is. I feel so sick all of a sudden, so guilty and nauseous and for once, I want to be anywhere but here. When I reach the chair, I look around again, but there is no sign of Sebastian at all. I feel around for a bit before my hand finds the lamp. I fumble with switch until I am finally able to turn it on.

Light floods the room almost instantaneously. I look around for Sebastian, but no one is here. Shit. The bed is unmade, the usual diamond rose petals are gone. No music is playing and no wine is set out.

Sebastian is late.

And Sebastian is never let.

That was the final sign.

My heart begins pounding even faster. Where is Sebastian? I think frantically. He's always on time. Always. He'll be here, I tell myself. Maybe he just got caught in traffic. I don't really believe it, but I don't need anything else to worry about tonight, and so I leave it at that.

I'm tempted to leave right then and come back next week, but then I remember rule #3: don't leave the hotel room until morning. Not ever. And really, I'm not in a position to break another one of his rules. So I sigh, pour myself some red wine from the fridge, turn on some Beethoven music on the CD player Sebastian has set out, and I sink into the chair in the corner of the room, drinking and thinking and waiting.

I don't even know how long I sit there for, but I know it's at least an hour. I keep sipping at my wine, trying to let my body relax and make the nerves go away, but I can't. I'm wound too tight, and my heart doesn't slow its pounding for a second the whole time. I try instead to escape into my thoughts. I think about Sebastian, where he could possibly be, whether he's coming here or he just decided to abandon me. I think about the story he told me last week, about how he left everyone he ever cared about and even to this day, still hates himself for it. I think about the way his lips feel on mine, the way his touch makes my skin crawl, the tingling sensation his body gives me. I think about how Sebastian makes everything go away, makes all of the pain and the emptiness and the loneliness and the hurt fade. I think about us, our setup, and if we can ever really be together. I like how it is between us. I like this security, this guarantee. But I know, deep down, that I want more. I want to love Sebastian. I want to see the real him. I want… well, I want him.

Next I think about my parents. It's been two years since the robbery that got them killed, but it feels more like an eternity. The robber stole Mom's jewelry, the police said, and shot them both when they tried to stop him. A tragedy, according to the paper. An awful, awful tragedy.

As if they knew any of it.

Finally, my mind drifts back to Ash. I wonder whether I should call and tell her that Sebastian isn't here, to let her go home and sleep restfully while I spend my night here, staring at the door, like Sebastian would have wanted. Only break the rules if you absolutely have to, is his saying, and I don't really have to break them now. I am fine here, aren't I? Yes, I tell myself. Yes I am. I am fine.

I. am. fine.

So I take one last sip of wine and close my eyes as I sit in the chair, ready to let sleep take me away until morning. Sebastian will show up later, I tell myself as I close my eyes. He will.

That's when I hear the gunshot.

And the scream.

In that moment, what I hear isn't the kind of happy-scream you get when someone proposes, or during a tickle-fight of some sort, or anything, well, positive. This isn't the scream of a small child trying to get attention, either, or the scream of someone calling out to a friend.

No.

This scream is blood-curdling. Ear-splitting. Filled with pure fear. The second I hear it, my whole body freezes up. I shoot out of the chair, my heart hammering furiously in my chest.

The scream and gunshot are close, it's like they're coming from outside my room, and the realization is a punch in the gut. Oh shit shit shit, I think to myself, scrambling for cover. Everything pounds, freezes, hurts. I don't know what to do. What the fuck am I supposed to do in a situation like this? What do I do when there are gunshots and screams right outside my door? My feet go numb. My hands tremble. I take a slow step to the door, listening for the sound of footsteps fading, for any sign to tell me I'm safe, but nothing comes. Everything is silent for one long second, and then, just like that, all hell breaks loose.

There's a grunt, and someone is thrown against the wall beside my door. Another scream rips through the air. I swear my heart is about to explode out of my chest as the body collides with the wall, almost breaking through it, sending me jumping backward. I hear the crack of a fist connecting with skin, and then someone else is slammed against the wall, closer to the door this time. I jump back again. The fighting continues, and finally my sense start kicking in. I hear another crack as someone is thrown against the wall across the way while I race over to the corner of the room, ducking behind the bed for cover.

The next thing I know, another gunshot sounds, piercing through the night air. I hear another scream, and then the sound of sobbing. And then, once again, there is nothing.

I cower there, under the bed, totally frozen. I feel numb. My whole body screams at me that I'm going to fucking die here because someone is killing people right outside my door, but I try to ignore it, to try to stay calm, try to focus on my breathing.

Then, through the silence, there's the crunch of a single footstep, stopping directly in front of my door.

My whole body shakes at that, and I hold my breath, tensing up. The killer is here. Whoever pulled that trigger is about to come inside my room.

But I don't dare move, or breathe, or do anything to give myself away. So I just crouch there, stock-still, waiting for whoever to leave. I hold my breath as I hear another footstep, drawing closer still. The person pauses, and I hear sobbing from someone out in the hallway. My heart hammers in my chest so hard I swear whoever is there can hear it, but I don't dare move as the sound of the footsteps stops.

Right.

In front of.

My door.

And then, to my absolute horror, the knob turns. I watch, frozen, trying not to cry, as it turns until it clicks, and then the door swings wide open.

The first thing I see is the man's boots: dark and placed right outside my door. Then, slowly, I lift my gaze up to his suit pants, then to his tux and black bowtie, then to his square jaw, and then, finally, my gaze settles on those same, icy blue eyes I know all too well.

Sebastian gives me a small smile as he walks over to the bed. "Ready to begin, angel?" he says.

If my stomach could sink so low that it falls out of my body, mine just did. He keeps a gun trained on someone outside, looking between me and whoever it is. "Come here," he coos in his sing-song way, but I don't move. I'm rooted in the spot, shaking like crazy, the tears streaming down my face.

When I don't obey, the smile leaves his face and fury replaces it. Sebastian looks sinister, his nostrils flaring and lips curling into a smirk. "Out. Now," he yells, and points a second gun on me.

A sob racks through me, but I have no choice but to obey. I stand up and walk numbly over to him, trying to process what's going on, why Sebastian, my Sebastian, looks like he wants to kill me. My heart keeps on hammering and my blood chills and chills, and I can barely make out anything but the throbbing in my head. I feel my vision starting to fade out, feel the room disappear and everything else leaving me, but I force myself to focus, to take one step after another until, finally, I reach the door.

A pained smile spreads across Sebastian's lips. "Good, my angel," he coos once I reach him, stroking my hair for just a second. His eyes seem sad, though, almost apologetic, which catches me off guard. "Very good."

Then, he hands me a gun. A pistol, I think, but I don't have much experience with guns. I take it, my hands still shaking furiously. I don't understand why he's giving it to me, but I'm too scared and confused to question him. I look up to meet his gaze. He looks different than usual. His eyes are hard and fierce, and not in the same loving kind of way. They're angry, almost apologetic.

I swallow hard.

I hear a crash somewhere downstairs, then shouts, and then an earsplitting crack. A gunshot, I think. My legs go weak. Sebastian must hear it too, because he glances down the hall and then looks back at me, his face and voice suddenly urgent.

"Use this," he says, pointing at the gun he gave.

"For what?" I choke out. I have to force myself to continue breathing. I look at the gun, then him, then back at my feet.

The sounds of people running are approaching. I pray with every fiber of my being that they're cops, but I don't even know anymore. I don't know what's going on. I don't know why the man I thought I trusted just possibly killed someone, and is now looking like he wants to do the same to me.

Sebastian grabs my arm and shoves me out into the hall. He points at a girl lying limply on the other side of the hall, blood pouring out of a gunshot wound in her leg. Time seems to slow as my gaze settles on the face.

It's Ash.

The bleeding girl is Ash.

A scream escapes me, and I thrash and try to run toward her but Sebastian holds me back, his grip like iron. My headache grows and I feel sick, so sick, and then everything but the shallow beating of my heart seems to fade away.

Distantly, I hear Sebastian yell, "Protect her, angel. Men are after us. Bad men. I don't have the resources to bring your friend with us." Out of nowhere, I'm struck by how full of genuine care his voice sounds, but the thought is gone as quickly as it comes.

Shouts fill the air as several armed men race upstairs, clicking of their safeties. Everything blurs. This whole thing is like a nightmare, and I don't know what to do but stand and shake and stare at Ash while Sebastian moves to the end of the hallway, his gun locked and loaded. "One of the men shot her," I hear him say. "I killed him but she's really banged up. Save her, angel. If these men get her they will give her something worse than death."

My head spins, and my stomach is so queasy and my muscles so rigid that none of this even feels real anymore. I try to focus on holding up the gun, but I can't even think straight anymore. I feel my mind fading in and out, like my eyes are a camera zooming and unzooming back and forth and back and forth. I just watch Sebastian, watch as he flattens himself against the hall and points his gun at the stairwell, takes a shot at the oncoming me, then steps back and stares at me urgently. His eyes burn into mine for one, single second that feels like an eternity. They are so full of something, something deep and dark and hurt, and it looks like he wants to say a million things to me, but nothing comes out.

Sebastian doesn't say a word. He just stares at me so intensely I swear it bores a hole into my skin, but his lips don't move. It's like his eyes are apologizing, like he's telling me he already regrets whatever is about to happen, and the thought makes my stomach twist.

Then, just like that, he grunts and looks away. I gasp for air immediately, because his gaze was so intense I realize I forgot to breathe.

Sebastian steps out from the cover of the hallway and takes several shots down at the men coming up the stairs, whoever they are. I hear another scream, then the thud of someone falling.

Desperately, I clutch the gun in my hand and stare back down at Ash, my hands shaking wildly. Ash's eyes are wild and crazed, and she lies there, so limply, the blood rushing out of her body. I see her long blonde hair, the mascara running down her eyes, and the crimson staining her pale skin. I see the fear in her eyes, the way she feels life slipping away from her, and the pain of the thought is almost unbearable.

I crouch down beside her as Sebastian continues to shoot at the oncoming men, tears pouring down my face. I look at my gun, which I'm holding at the space by the top of the stairs. The safety is off. I know enough about guns to tell. I know how to shoot them too. When I was considering suicide, I taught myself all about them, how they work, but guns always felt too messy. Felt wrong. And they still do.

"It's going to be okay," I whisper to her, but my body is shaking so hard that my voice cracks, and I don't believe my own words for a second.

I don't understand what's going on.

I don't understand why Sebastian is shooting people right before my eyes.

And I don't understand why these men want to kill us.

My hand is shaking like mad as I hold the trigger. I hear more people running up the stairs, the barking of orders and sounds of guns being loaded. I know I don't have much time. I know they're almost here.

"They're coming, angel!" Sebastian roars back at me, and his bloodshot eyes meet mine for a single instant. Fear pulses through me as more gunshots go off, and he screams, "We have to go!"

I don’t move, though. My body is shaking so hard and I just keep staring at Ash. Everything starts to fade out, and I'm absolutely paralyzed, unable to move.

"RUN!" he screams again, taking one last shot at the oncoming men.

But I can't. I can't move. My feet are absolutely rooted in the spot. I clench the gun so hard I swear I'm going to break my hands, and so many tears rush down my face at once that my whole cheek stings. My vision blurs, but distantly I see Sebastian running over to me, screaming something I can't make out, and I feel myself reaching out to Ash, trying to grab her arm and hold tight to her, but my hand misses.

Before I know what's happening, Sebastian is behind me, putting something dark over my head and shoving a needle into the back of my neck.

"I won't let them have you," I swear I hear him whisper, but my ears are ringing so hard now that I can't be too sure.

Everything is dizzy as I slump back into his arms, feeling sick and bleak and empty. Distantly, I feel his arms wrapping around me, his grunts as he drags me somewhere far away. The last thing I remember is the sound of the Beethoven music I put on in room 364, drifting out into the hallway.

And then all I see is blackness.

Chapter Four

I drift in and out of consciousness for hours after that. Or days. Or maybe even weeks. I don't know how long. All I remember is waking up face down in a seat of some sort a while after Sebastian knocked me unconscious. It felt like there was something moving beneath me, as if I were a car, but I can't be too sure. I could see nothing but blurry sunlight for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, and then I was gone, back in a memory.

I'm twenty years old again, running down my old street in the pouring rain. I'd been at a friend's house all day, but her mom told me something had happened, that I needed to go home now, and I refused to let her drive me because I knew whatever it was, it was bad. And before I realized what I was doing, I'd started running.

I run and run, already crying and choking and gasping for air, already wanting to crumple and let everything else leave me, already knowing something is terribly, terribly wrong.

I can hear the sirens wailing through our once silent neighborhood, the buzz of energy and fear and sadness in the air. It's the dead of night, but everyone is standing outside of their houses, hugging and looking at the house the cars are crowding. My heart sinks.

They're staring at my house. The house I'd been staying in ever since I failed out college.

Ten cop cars surround my front yard, and policemen fill the area, bringing evidence and equipment in and out of the house, talking into their radios and putting up yellow tape all around my home.

I keep running. I don't even hesitate. Tears burn my eyes and my heart pounds furiously, but I try to hide it, try to stay hopeful, even though a deep, crushing part of me knows it's really over.

"Ma'am, this is a crime scene," a pudgy cop says when I duck under the yellow tape, forcing my way over to my house. "You can't--"

But I'm already pushing past him, muttering, "I live here" in between my fits of trembles, and then I hustle inside the house, pushing past a few cops, and look around desperately.

The house is a mess. Furniture is upturned everywhere--couches, chairs, tables. Shattered glass is spilled across the floor, and torn-up pictures of me and my parents laughing and smiling several years ago litter the ground like they're nothing. And then I notice the drop of crimson on the hardwood floor in front of me, and I look up. I let out a scream as soon as see my parents, on the ground, shot and killed beside the sofa, their hands locked.

Together.

Even in death.

I gasp and cry, and my body feels frozen and numb and hurt and I can barely process what I'm seeing, what this means. Sobs rack through me and I turn away, shaking all over. A detective grabs me and steers me outside, telling me I shouldn't be here, I should wait outside, that I was going to be okay, that everything was going to be okay even when I knew it wasn't.

The detective starts turning away and hurries back inside, but I grab her through my tears. "Tell me," I gasp. "Tell me what happened."

Her eyes look sad, so sad, sad for me. "I shouldn't--" she says quietly and tries to brush me off, but I cling to her for dear life, not knowing what else to do.

"Please, tell me," I whisper. My voice sounds so hollow and defeated it doesn't even feel like mine anymore. "Tell me what happened."

She sighs, then locks eyes with me. "It was a robbery," she says. "Your mother's jewelry was reported stolen. Suspect appears to be male. They tried to stop him, but… they couldn't. He had a gun," she adds.

My stomach twists at her words but I manage a nod, whispering, "Thank you." And then I start shaking all over again, and I collapse into her arms, screaming and crying and telling myself this can't possibly be real, this can’t be happening to me, all night long.

When I wake up next, I can vaguely hear a door slam outside, feel someone grab my arms and mutter something under their breath. And then I'm being moved away from here, to somewhere outside in the blinding sun. I feel my head loll back, and then I'm back in another memory.

It's three days after the murder. I'm sitting on the rooftop of my old house, closing my eyes and thinking. I think about my dance classes. They're supposed to be my escape, supposed to wash everything else away. The grace of my movements, the way my legs sway every which way, so nimbly, it's all supposed to free me. From what, I don't even know. My thoughts, maybe? Or is it supposed to free me from my depression? Or really, maybe it's just freeing me from myself.

Whatever it is, it hasn't worked. The ache in my heart hasn't gone away, and my parents are still dying again and again in my mind. I live with my aunt now, but I hardly care for her, and she returns the favor. I hang out here, at the house they died in, because I have nowhere else to go. Because the pain is stronger here, but at least I feel like myself again. At least, when the depression and loneliness overcome me, I can feel like Crystal Knight again. I can feel like the real me, the one person who otherwise couldn't seem farther away.

And today, I'm going to end it at all.

There isn't one particular thing that brought me here, or a certain reason why I chose today, or a breaking point that I reached and couldn't keep going on after. It's been much more gradual. I'd been sad for a long time, mainly because my parents were always away on their business trips and I'd never had friends before. But even in the thick of it, I used to cling to the knowledge that my parents were still alive, that I needed to be strong for them, that I needed to keep on pushing, but now that they're gone, who do I need to be strong for anymore?

The answer is nobody.

Nobody.

Nobody.

So for a while, I just sit on the edge of the roof and think. I think about the life I'll be missing out on if I go through with this. I think about the children I'll never have, the friends I'll never meet, the husband I'll never get to know. I think about whether I'll ever even have children if I stay alive past tonight, if I'll ever make friends, if I'll ever have a man in my life, and then I tell myself that of course I won't. Good things don't happen to me; good things never happen to me. If I decide to live, I'll spend my life alone, working a dead-end job just to pay the bills, hating myself the whole way through. I'll live my life just to get through the next day, with nothing to looking forward to in between, and that's no way to live at all, right? Next I think about dance, the way it frees me. I think about the tons of performances I've been to, the awards I've received, the applause I've earned. I think about that moment when I'm on stage, when the music plays beside me and everything fades away, because my sense come to life. I think about how my body hums with energy before every performance, and then I think about myself closing my eyes and dancing, getting lost in the movements. I miss getting lost. I miss it a lot. I miss that moment when I'm moving across stage, feeling nothing but the gentle pounding in my temples and the beautiful, magical, exhilarating feeling that all of my different dance moves give me.

Finally, I think about my parents. I think about how they never deserved to die, like I don't. I think about what it must have been like--to die like that. To one moment be sitting in the living room, drinking wine and listening to music, and the next, to just not exist anymore. I think about how they went down with such a fight--they always go down with fights, that's just who they are--and how Dad and Mom attacked the robber when he stole her prized jewelry, and then I think about him holding the gun on them, taking a breath, and firing. And before everything else, I think about how my parents' hands locked as they fell backwards, think about how, even in death, they were together forever.

And then, before I fall and break my leg and end my dance career forever, I think about nothing at all.

I drift back into consciousness after some time, feeling my head and heart pounding. My ears are still ringing, not even slowing their incessant sound for a second. I try to look around, but my vision is blurry. I'm moving, though, and something hard is beneath me, like someone is carrying me away in their arms. Which makes no sense. But I definitely feel myself progressing forward, feel the nausea rise up, and the next thing I know, something warm and soft is beneath me. And then, when I try to open my eyes, there is blackness. Another memory.

It's been over a year and a half since the night I almost died, and I still haven't moved on. I moved away, if that counts, to this dead-end town. I got a job, a tiny apartment, and I guess my prediction about living only to get through the next day came true after all. I'm not happy, not really. I have no love, no passion left in me. I'm living just to survive, doing nothing more, nothing less. This Starbucks job has gotten me less than nowhere, and so when my new friend Ash convinced me to try just one night out at a club, I said yes. "It's not like you have anything else to do," she'd said, which was all too true. I didn't have any hobbies. I didn't have any interests. Hell, I'd probably have just spent my night watching TV if it weren't for.

But instead, that night, I met Sebastian.

And then everything changed.

Anyway, Ash brought me to a club as soon as I agreed to go out with her. I dressed up in a purple dress, put on eyeliner and mascara and some makeup and lipstick, and then I let her drive me to wherever she had in mind.

So here I am, standing here, so, so out of place. The club is as cliché as ever. It's a giant room made up of multiple floors connected by a white, winding staircase. The whole place is dark, flooded with people drinking and swaying to the music, laughing and talking as the colored flashing lights illuminates the area between beats. Retro music pulses throughout the building, and everything is so loud and full and surreal that I feel like I'm in a dream.

"C'mon," Ash says, taking my arm and pulling me to the bar, where several desperate, well-dressed men sip drinks and flirt with any passing women.

Ash sits me down on the stool, then orders us both a drink. It's pathetic, really. That I'm here. That going to random clubs at midnight on a Thursday night is what my life has come to. But it has, and at least the club provides a distraction from everything else. At least, for a few hours, I can pretend to be normal.

"So how are you liking it so far?" Ash shouts to me over the music, taking her drink in her hand and smiling like she always does: like nothing in the world but this moment matters. I've always admired that about her, how she lives 100% in the present, how she never lets anything but what's happening right here, right now bother her. It's a nice way to live, and sometimes I wish I could ever be like that.

"It's fine," I manage to say, but as I look around the packed club, I couldn't feel more out of place.

"Don’t worry." Ash leans into me. "We'll find you a hot date."

I nod, not really believing it, when a man comes up to Ash. "Fancy a drink?" he says, smiling at her. He is handsome and blonde, and Ash and I can both see it.

"Totally." He sits down beside her, and Ash beams at me, totally forgetting her mission to find me a date, and then goes to talk to this fancy stranger.

I sigh to myself. Five minutes in, and I'm already getting abandoned. Great. It's like this club is a metaphor for my life. I take a sip of wine, closing my eyes and waiting for all of this to go away.

"The wine is good for making you forget," a man's voice says behind me.

I don’t look at him. I don't have the energy. After all, he's probably just a random creeper I have no interest in. "Yeah," I mutter. "It sure is."

There's a pause. "First time here too?"

"Fortunately," I manage to say, taking another sip.

He laughs then. That stops me dead. He has a nice laugh. A really nice laugh. It's thick and masculine, warm and inviting all at once. His voice is kind of nice, too, now that I think about it. It's almost sing-song, in a sexual, growling kind of way.

So I turn around to face him.

And goddammit, was I wrong about calling him a creeper.

He is--let's face it--smoking hot. He wears a newly-tailored suit that runs the length of his body. His dark hair is wavy and slicked back, and his skin is that perfectly sun-kissed kind of tan. His jaw is thick, and his eyes are a deep blue, smoky and icy all at once, like a fire on a frozen lake. He smiles at me when I look at him, broad and toothy, revealing a pair of killer dimples on either side of his mouth.

"May I?" he asks, reaching for my hand.

I hesitate, then nod.

It takes him less than a second to take my hand into his, lean in, and kiss it. Slow. Affectionate. His lips lingering on my skin just a little too long. He lifts his head up slowly, locking eyes with me, and I feel my skin crawl, because his lips feel so good against me.

"What's your name?" he asks after a minute.

I'm so busy thinking about his lips that the question catches me off guard. I look up, startled. "What?"

He smiles, but not rudely. "What's your name?" he repeats.

"Oh. Um, Crystal. I'm Crystal."

He cocks his head to the side for a minute, then nods slowly. "Crystal," he says quietly, like the word is sacred. "It's fitting," he says at last, looking up to meet my gaze. "It means you're clear and pure, like your soul is." Then, he reaches out a hand. "I'm Sebastian."

I smile despite myself. "It's nice to meet you, Sebastian," I say, and we shake hands like we're business acquaintances or something. And for once, when I say the words, I'm not lying.

"I could say the same about you, Crystal," Sebastian says. "Now, tell me, what brings you here on a night like tonight?"

I take another sip of my drink. "Loneliness," I mutter. "What else?"

"Ah yes," he says. "I know a thing or two about loneliness myself."

"Oh yeah?" I say, smiling a little. It's more of a challenge than an actual question. I can't imagine anyone this good-looking ever being lonely.

"Yes," he says. "I'm good at… abandoning people. Things. Finding a way to push away anyone who gets close to me.

"Drinks to that," I mutter, and we clink glasses.

We drink for a while, just talking about things, the weather, what shows are on tomorrow, and all that jazz while I wait for Ash to finish her flirting so I can leave. Sebastian is the perfect gentleman. He orders me more drinks, but stops me at three, saying getting too drunk in a club can be dangerous, and I reluctantly agree.

Whenever he talks, I let myself get lost in his words, in the emotion behind them. I feel connected to him, somehow. I don't even know why. I just know that talking to him makes my pulse pick up speed, makes my heart flutter a little, makes the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach go away, if only for a little while. Talking to him is an escape; Sebastian is an escape.

After a while, Sebastian sighs, deep in thought. "This is going to sound stupid," he says at last.

I frown at him at first, not understanding what he means, but the curiosity quickly sinks in. "Tell me," I say. It isn't like I have anything else to do.

Sebastian nods. "Okay. I have a, uh… proposition."

I narrow my eyes. Oh hell, don't let him turn out to be a freak after all. "Proposition?"

"Yes." He clears his throat. "We're both lonely, right? We both know what it's like to lose everyone we care about. And now… now it sounds like we both have no one left?"

"I'm following."

Sebastian pushes his drink aside, and locks eyes on mine. He really does have beautiful eyes. Strong and intense, no matter what. "So what if we came together and… used each other to feel less lonely?"

Music continues to thump all around us, and the sound of laughter carries throughout the giant room. The whole place is stuffy and smells like beer and sweat, but with Sebastian, I feel sucked away into my own little world.

I snort. "So is this all part of your clever plan to get me into your bed so you can fuck me?" I don't mention that it's working.

Sebastian smiles vaguely. "I don't fuck, baby. I only fix your pain," he says, smooth as ever. There's a pause, and then he leans into me. His breath smells like some sort of weird mix between alcohol and mint. "So what'll it be?" he asks softly.

"Well, that depends. What does this plan involve?" I say. I'm mostly joking. It's not like I'm going to agree to some sketchy-sounding plan with a random stranger. But still, something about Sebastian… pulls me in, I guess.

"It involves whatever you like," he says. "I get us a hotel room. You come every Wednesday night, and we spend the night kissing, touching, talking. Whatever. We just stay there and we heal each other, heal our broken pasts."

I could laugh at the idea. In fact, if anyone but Sebastian had just said that, I probably would have laughed. But something about Sebastian's words feel so honest and true, like he really doesn't care about sex; he just wants me. And I guess, based off of the tingling sensation he gives me, I want him too.

"No strings attached?" I ask at last. I can't believe I'm seriously considering this. I must be a complete idiot.

He smiles. "Of course." Then, "Meet me here tomorrow night so we can discuss further?"

I hesitate. "Okay," I finally say. It's not like I have anything left to lose in my life. A little adventure can't hurt. "I… I'll see you around."

Sebastian stands up and adjusts his coat. He smiles at me. "I'll see you around, too, angel," he coos.

I laugh. "Did you just call me 'angel'?"

He nods.

"Why?"

Sebastian doesn't look at me then. He just starts walking away, giving off more of his wonderful cologne scent. "Because you're an angel," he calls back at me after a minute. "An angel who is too far out of reach for me to ever really have."

I'm too stunned to ask what he means.

Chapter Five

I wake up to something warm and soft beneath me. Everything is blurry and distant, and I feel myself stirring, feel the heat creep into my body, feel something conforming beneath me. A mattress, I decide it is. A bed. I'm in a bed.

I force myself to open my eyes. My skin is hot and sweaty, and I realize immediately that I've been panting. A lot. My throat feels hoarse as I gulp in a breath, so strained and overused. I must have screamed a lot too.

And then there's only one word on my tongue:

Ash.

Ash could be dead.

My body starts shaking at the thought. Oh fuck oh fuck. What if she's dead? What if my only friend is dead? And for what? I can't even remember. I just remember people running up the stairs, gunfire everywhere, and then… Sebastian. Screaming at me. Telling me to save her from these men. I don't even know who they were. I don't know where I am. I don't know why any of what happened, happened.

I don't know anything.

I jolt up in bed, sweat covering my face, gasping for breath. Everything is dark around me, but if I squint I can make out my general surroundings. The bed is positioned at the end of a huge, domed hall, with marble walls and several pillars at the ends of the hall. A giant door stands to my right, leading to a room with a yellowish glow. A bathroom, maybe. There are no windows in the building, no obvious signs of escape. I squint and look around to see better.

The walls are covered in paintings of sorts, long and wispy and colorful, like expert hieroglyphs of sorts. My bed is king sized, and the sheets are so soft and warm, and the frame behind me looks to be made of porcelain or something. Definitely not cheap, whatever it is. No one else appears to be in the hall, though. Besides the creaking of the heater below me, there is not a sound in the whole place.

I take in another breath. The air is thick and smells almost like soap. Odd, I find myself thinking. Behind me sits a small dinner table, with two chairs tucked in. Empty plates sit on the edge of the wooden frame, as if waiting to be used. And then, at the end of the hall, I see a door. It's small and dark, almost indistinguishable against the pitch black room, but my eye latches onto it right away and doesn't let go.

Quietly, I slip out of the sheets, and gently touch my bare feet to the cool marble floor. I take a step forward. Pain jolts through me. My legs are stiff and my muscles feel totally sore, like I'd just run a marathon and don't even remember it. Gritting my teeth, I take another step, then another, then another, fighting through the pain. My heart thrums in my chest as I approach the door, and I try to walk in rhythm to it, step, beat, step, beat, step, beat. My whole body is throbbing by the time I reach the door, but I don't even care. I walk toward it hungrily, reaching out my arm to the handle. I can see yellow light slipping out from the small crack beneath it, and it's the most beautiful sight in the world. I know I need to get out of here, wherever here is. I know that after what happened last night, I am not safe.

Finally, once I stumble over to the door, I reach out a trembling hand, wrap it around the cool brass handle, and I try to turn it.

Nothing.

My heart stops.

I try again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

I hold my breath, the fear rushing in.

No no no no no. No! NO!

I feel sick again, feel hurt and broken and sick. I try again and again, jostling the knob, desperately trying to get it to come apart, but nothing happens.

My stomach twists, and tears cloud my eyes. This can't be happening. I can't be fucking trapped in here.

I jerk the knob some more, rip at it, desperately try to jerk the door open, but that doesn't quite happen. Instead, the knob goes flying backward.

And just like that, there's no way to get through.

I break into a sob, and I scream a little, because I'm locked in a dark room and my best friend is nowhere to be seen and Sebastian almost murdered me and I don't know what's happening anymore. Not knowing what else to do, I helplessly pound on the door and beg to be let out. "SOMEONE HELP ME!" I scream at the top of my lungs, tears rushing down my face. My throat is still raw and hurt form before--whenever that was. "HELP ME! PLEASE! I'M TRAPPED!" I choke out more air and tears, feeling my heart hurt more and more, but no one comes. No one rescues me. I'm left here, all alone.

After a few minutes, I slump to the ground, defeated. My body crumples up. I'm hurt and aching and I can barely see my own hands, and all I remember is the look in Sebastian's eyes when he told me to save Ash, the look of a true fear.

I loved him. I cared for him. I trusted him.

And look what he did.

He… he knocked me unconscious. He held a gun to my head.

I thought he wanted me too. But he almost killed me… and now he's just gone. I don't know where he is. It occurs to me then that I don't even know where I am, or why I'm here, or even who brought me here. Was it Sebastian? Did he lock me up? Did he bring me here just so he could kill me like he killed those men?

And then another thought hits me: what if it wasn't Sebastian who captured me? What if it was those men who he said were after him, the ones who would've given Ash something worse than death? What if they killed Sebastian and now they're here for me?

I bury my head in my hands. Oh god oh god. I can't die yet. I can't die. I take it back. I want my life. I want my crappy job and annoying friend. I want my loneliness. Anything is better than this. My eyes feel hot and puffy from the tears, but I keep letting them slip out, tasting their bitter saltiness, the unmistakable feel of defeat.

I'm done.

It's over.

I'm locked in here with no food or water.

I am never going to get out alive.

The defeat rushes in quickly and painfully. I'm going to die here. I'm going to die alone and the dark. No one is here, no one is coming to save me. There is no way I'll make it.

I crumple up, crying harder, when I realize it. My throat is as dry as it is raw, but my hair and body feel clean and soft… I sit up suddenly.

My whole body is clean. I smell like soap--that's what I was smelling! My hair feels newly wet and my skin is cool and relaxed, like I'd just gotten out of the shower.

But I didn't take a shower.

Then, I look down. I realize I'm wearing a dress. Not just any dress, but the black dress I didn't wear the night of what happened to Ash. My heart pounds faster. I feel for my lips. I'm wearing lipstick again too, but there's no way my lipstick stayed intact the whole night. Which means…

Someone showered and dressed me.

The thought makes my stomach churn and more tears come to my eyes. There's only one reason I can think of for someone to dress me like this, and the result is not pretty.

My body quivers. I don't know what's happening. I don't know why I'm here. All I know is that I just want to leave, with my life intact.

I haven't felt this hopeless in two years.

Chapter Six

I wake up to the sound of the shower running. My eyes shoot open right away.

A shower.

Someone else is here.

I look around desperately for the sound as soon as I sit up in bed, until I finally pinpoint it as coming from the small bathroom off to the side I saw earlier. I stand up, but my legs still feel weak. I realize then that there's a blanket around me. I know for a fact I didn't leave it there. The room is cold, though, and the blanket feels nice and warm against my skin, as if whoever put it there was actually doing me a favor.

I throw the blanket off of me as soon as the thought crosses my mind.

I'm not an idiot. I know all about Stockholm Syndrome. It's sure as hell not happening to me.

So I stand up. My body is still shaking, but at least I can walk without stumbling now. I take one small step after another toward the open door and the sound of the shower, the cool tile making the toes on my bare feet curl. I try to breathe evenly, to open and close my eyes and focus on the light streaming out of the bathroom, to do anything but let this fear that's clinging to me take over.

Someone is definitely here, and that someone may be my one key to getting out of this place, whatever it is.

My head throbs as I make my way over, but I ignore it, focusing on each of my tiny steps instead, on making sure I don't make a sound as I move across the room. Finally, I reach the wall beside the open door, and I stop, catch a breath. My heart is pounding again. I don't even know what I'm doing--I most certainly don't have a plan--but I know I need to get out of here. I can't be locked up like this. I can't be dead.

I have to go home. I have to tell the police what happened. I have to--

I look down, searching for anything to use as a weapon. I don't know who locked me up here, but I'm certain they're dangerous. My eyes lock on an empty plate left outside of the bathroom. I pick it up slowly, careful not to make a sound, and I inch along the wall until I'm just beside the open door where the yellow light pours out of.

I take a deep breath, holding up the plate in attack position. The shower is still running, but I can't hear anyone in there. I hesitate. What if they overpower me? What if this gets me killed? What if it doesn't well?

I push away the thought immediately, because for all I know, this is my only chance at freedom. It's now or never.

My heart races as I lift up the plate, turn into the open door, and charge the shower. I burst through the curtains, prepared to hit whoever over the head with the plate, but no one is there. The shower is empty.

My stomach drops. My chest heaves. I take in one last defeated breath, and I'm about to collapse into the corner and cry some more, cry for being so stupid and foolish, when I hear the click of a gun behind me.

I whirl around, and every muscle in my body freezes at once.

A gun.

Trained on me.

My body has already started shaking as I turn to see what is going on, praying whoever it is doesn't kill me in the process. What I find instead hurts more than anything in the world.

"Care for a drink, angel?" Sebastian says in his usual singsong voice. The rage courses through me as soon as I meet his gaze. He is still wearing his business suit, his jaw newly-shaven, his grin huge and toothy. One hand holds a gun pointed at my head, while the other holds out a champagne glass for me.

Sebastian.

Sebastian is here.

He locked me up, and now he looks like he wants to kill me.

I want to scream. To cry. How could I be so fucking moronic? How could I fall for someone who would do this to me? How come once I feel even the slightest bit of happiness, it all goes to hell?

"Take it," Sebastian says, moving the wine glass closer, but I refuse to take it. My hand whips out and before I know what's happening, I knock the glass out of his hand and it goes flying, smashing against the bathroom wall, shattering into a million pieces.

"That works too," he says, looking at the glass with amusement, but I'm not even listening. My whole body shakes.

"You bastard!" I scream despite myself, tears burning into my eyes. "I trusted you! And look what you do! You betray me!" My throat is still sore, but it feels good to let it all out, even if the only result is my voice breaking out into a fit of coughs.

Sebastian's blue eyes are fiery and passionate at my words. "Betray you?" he roars. "I fucking saved you, angel!" He reaches out his free hand to grab my arm. I try to struggle out of his grip, but he's too strong and he doesn't let go. His eyes burn into mine, anger and intensity rushing out of him. "What do you think those men would have done to you if they caught you? Because let me tell you, they sure as hell wouldn't have let you off scot free. They were after you, angel! They were after both of us! I brought you here to save you!"

I shake my head slowly back and forth, not believing it. The trembles keep on coming. "There's no reason for them to come after me," I whisper. This can't be real. None of this can be real. Sebastian would never do this to me. Sebastian would never lock me up like this.

He throws back his head, laughing angrily. "Oh but there is, my angel. Looks like you aren't so pure and innocent after all, huh?"

I keep on shaking my head. I don't know what else to do anymore. "No," I say, my voice cracking. "No. No! You didn't save me. You locked me up here. You… you left me here, no food, no water, no nothing." My head keeps hurting. I just want to cry again, but the tears refuse to come. It's like everything has been sucked out of me, like there is nothing left but this deep, nagging emptiness in the pit of my stomach.

Sebastian's eyes burn with anger at that. He looks like he's on the verge of exploding as he pulls me up with his iron grip, bringing me into his arms. His voice is hot and passionate as he growls, "Did you not notice? I fed you. I gave you water. I showered you. I've been the perfect gentleman for the last two days, all because of you!" He drops his voice. "I never even touched you," he says, like he's whispering the darkest secret in the world.

My body just keeps shaking. I open my mouth to protest, but he doesn't stop there. "And I didn't just lock you in here!" he screams. "I slept on the ground outside of the safe house. I let you have the bed and the blankets… I let you have all of it. Your own room. Your own security. Because I don't deserve the security. I don't deserve anything. But you do, angel. You deserve it all." His face is red from shouting, but there is a certain brokenness to it, a hurt I didn't expect, and it feels like all of the air is sucked out of me.

"Where--where is Ash?" I whisper, not knowing what else to say. I try to breathe deeply, to stay strong and focus on Sebastian, even though all I really want to do is crumple up and cry. None of this makes any sense. None of this can ever be real.

He looks away like he's been slapped. His eyes focus on the barred window in the corner of the bathroom, and his jaw works like he's torn between saying something and not.

"Where?" I repeat, louder this time, but my voice continues to shake.

He sighs. Locks eyes with mine. His whole face is filled with something dark and pained, and he looks at me in that same apologetic way as he did the night of the kidnapping, his eyes burning holes into mine. "She's dead," he says in a low voice, not looking away. "Ash is dead."

My heart shatters as soon as he says it. I feel frozen, feel my muscles tense up, feel every part of me hurting again. "What?" I whisper, a tear running down my cheek. Ash is dead. Ash is fucking dead. The one person left, the one person who supported me, is dead. And it's all because of him. "Why didn’t you save her?" I say, louder this time. "Why didn't you fucking help her, Sebastian?"

He looks at me sadly, reaching out to hold me, but I step back, pressing myself against the wall. I think for a second that he's going to yank me back over to him, but he doesn't. He just stands there, watching me, his eyes looking more pained than ever. "The men were already there," he says quietly. "It was too late. We had to leave, and I could only take one of you. It was you or her." His eyes are fixated on mine, but I just keep sobbing, shaking, praying this is all some elaborate nightmare. "I had to choose. And I chose you."

I start shaking my head back and forth. This can't be real. She can't be dead. He must be lying to me. I can't lose Ash too.

Slowly, he reaches out his thumb and touches it to my cheekbone, then drags it down beneath my mouth, then up and around it. "I never meant to hurt you," he growls, dropping his voice, his eyes still trained on mine. They're full of pain and apology, but I'm done seeing them. The anger surges back through me as I remember what he did to me, to Ash. My heart thuds in my chest, faster this time. "But you did hurt me. You locked me in here. You…. you got Ash killed! Get the fuck out of here. Get out of my life!" I scream through the tears.

He looks at me, deep and passionate, and nods, but he doesn't yell back at me. He doesn't get into an argument. He just stands there, probing me, his body in front of mine. "If that's what you want, angel," he hisses at last, biting back the rage. Then he puts down the gun and walks away into the darkness.

I crumple up and cry for a second as he walks out of the bathroom, trying to make sense of everything going on. It takes me a minute to regain my senses. But then I hear the click at the door, the door I couldn't open, and I realize he's the only way out.

Before I know what's happening, I feel myself running to the door, to the little glimpse of light outside, of freedom. "Sebastian!" I scream, but the door is already creaking closed. "Sebastian!"

Once I reach the door, it's fully shut. I start pounding on it, screaming and crying, desperately needing to get out of here. "Sebastian! Let me out, Sebastian! LET ME OUT!" Nothing. No sound but the reverberations of my scream through the room. "SEBASTIAN! PLEASE!"

I hold my breath as soon as I hear footsteps coming back to the door. I wait for him to unlock it and let me go free. The footsteps stop directly in front of the door, and for a second, there's nothing but silence.

And then I hear his voice.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian says. "But I can't let you out. I have to save you."

My stomach twists immediately. He starts walking away, and then I pound on the door harder, screaming through the rawness in my throat. "Let me out, Sebastian!" I say desperately. "LET ME OUT!"

I scream and scream until I can’t scream anymore.

* * *

"Morning, angel." The next morning, I wake up to the sound of those two, quiet words, forgetting for a minute where I am and what happened, and just enjoying the sound of Sebastian's voice through my closed eyes. But then the night before floods back to me, and I shoot up, my eyes wild, knowing I have to get out of here before he kills or rapes me or whatever he plans to do to me.

Sebastian sits down on the side of my bed as soon as I awake. I try to throw him off with a desperate flail of my arms, but he is too strong to be moved. I keep panicking though, desperately looking around for a weapon of some sort, for any way to protect myself. My heart is in my throat, but I find nothing of use.

Sebastian has this bittersweet look on his eyes, almost like he's full of regret. "I made you breakfast, angel," he says softly, seeing my crazed expression. "You've been here a week now. You need to eat more." He holds up a plate of eggs and bacon for me. It smells delicious, and as much as I want to knock out of his hand, I know he's right and I do need to eat something. I take the plate gingerly, glaring at him the whole time. He gives me an apologetic smile as he hands me a glass of water next.

"How are you today?" he asks after a minute, once I've taken a slow sip of my water and started on the breakfast. From the dark circles under his eyes, he looks tired, like he hasn't slept in days. It occurs to me then that maybe he, in fact, hasn't. Maybe he has spent the last week waiting for whoever is after us, according to him. Maybe he's spent it protecting me.

I push the thought away immediately. I'm not an idiot. I know that was just a lie to make me feel safer, until he can do… whatever it is he wants.

I don't answer Sebastian right away. I just keep clenching and unclenching my fists, hoping for a way to get out of here safely. Eventually, I move to eat my breakfast, and I hate how much I enjoy it. Sebastian can cook, I'll give him that. I almost want to spit the egg on his face after all he's done to me and Ash, but I'm too hungry to give up any food, so I just keep eating.

Finally, I meet Sebastian's gaze. His eyes look so innocent and well-meaning it makes me want to scream. I hate how safe he makes me feel, even after he locked me up like this.

"Why are you here, Sebastian?" I hiss. I'm not going to trust him. Not after what he did.

Sebastian smiles sadly, looking at me like I'm a distant memory, an old picture that is just out of reach. "I'm here for you. I'm always here for you."

"But I don't want you here," I whisper. My dark hair hangs over my eyes, and I feel like I might as well be in chains by the way it feels to be next to him: like I can't get away. Like I can't ever escape him.

His eyebrows furrow. "Say the word and I'll leave. I love you, angel. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." His voice is quiet and singsong, innocent as it always is.

"Then leave," I whisper, biting back a tear. "Please. Just leave."

He reaches out a gentle hand to my cheek, but I push him off, not wanting him to touch me. He looks at me sadly, then nods. "If that's how you feel." He stands up then and starts to walk away. "Talk to you later?"

I glare at him, putting my fork down. "No. I mean, I want to get out of here." I gesture at my makeshift prison. "Let me out."

"I can't let you leave, angel," he says quietly, but there is a certain intensity to his words, a certain genuineness… like he really does care for me. "Not until I'm sure they won't hurt you."

"Who are 'they,' Sebastian?" I don't hold back my irritation, because of course he is just lying to me to get my trust. "Who is after me?"

Sebastian shifts closer to me, putting a hand on my cheek. I freeze, but this time, I don't pull it off. His hand is warm and rough against my soft skin, and I hate how his touch makes my skin tingle. I want to scream at myself for it, in fact, but I can't muster out even a single word. This all hurts too much. Being with him hurts too much.

Sebastian looks almost surprised by my question. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

"No," I say, shaking off the stupid lust I feel. I don't want Sebastian. I can't ever want him. Not after what he did. "Tell me."

Sebastian smiles distantly, shakes his head. He's not wearing a tux anymore. Instead, he's dressed in a simple t-shirt and baggy shorts. They look odd on him, for some reason. They just… they don't feel right. "They're bad, bad men," he says, not taking his eyes off of mine. "That's all you need to know."

"But you're friends with them," I press, wanting to catch him in the lie. "Right?" I'd seen enough crime shows to know that when bad men are after you, it's almost always because you were friends with them, then betrayed them.

"Right," Sebastian says, watching me curiously.

I sit up further. "You worked with them?"

"Once upon a time I did, yes." I search his eyes to see if he's lying. He definitely doesn't seem to be, which surprises me, because there is no way he's telling the truth, right? My gaze drops down to his cheek, then latches on the scar he's always had beneath his eye. Realization hits me.

"Do they involve that scar?" I ask, pointing at his cheek.

For a second, Sebastian stiffens up. He looks almost unnerved by my question, or at least taken aback. I can't tell which. But then it's gone as quickly as it comes, and his face slips into an easy smile. "That's enough now, angel. We'll discuss this more later. Okay?"

I take another bite of my eggs, but I don't respond.

We sit there in silence for a while longer while I eat my breakfast. I listen to the steady sound of him breathing, watch the rise and fall of his chest, the way he doesn't take his eyes off me for a second as I eat. His gaze is searing, and I hate it, hate him. I keep eating, listening to the hum of the heater above me and letting everything else fade away.

The room is dark, but peeps of morning light slip in under the door. If I listen hard enough, I can hear the chirp of birds above, too, and the steady patter of the night's rain falling down from their place in the trees. The whole place is peaceful, cut-off. I wonder where we are, why we're here, and if we'll ever get out. I wonder how Sebastian will know when these men will stop hunting him, or really who they are in the first place, if they're even real. I wonder why they want him, and more importantly, why they want me. I wonder what kind of connection Sebastian had to them. And then, I wonder where he got that scar from. I can tell, from the way he flinched when I mentioned it, that whatever it was, it wasn't pretty.

I think about who Sebastian is--really is. If he's not lying, then clearly he got mixed up with some bad people, but what did he do? And why did he betray them? And if he is lying, what will he do to me? Kill me? Leave me here? Torture me? What? And then, I think about Ash, now dead because I wasn't there to help her.

I push aside my plate it, my appetite evaporating. "Take it," I hiss.

Sebastian takes it, but he looks concerned. Fuck him. "Are you okay, my angel?"

"Stop calling me that," I say in a low voice.

"Stop calling you what, angel?"

My hands ball into a fast, and the anger starts pouring out of me. "Stop calling me that."

I need to get out of here, I tell myself. I need to get out of here! Sebastian is not a good person. He's a fucking murderer. He killed those men. He kidnapped me. He let Ash die.

I sit up, my stomach hurting. I can't take this. I need my old life back. I need to get beyond these walls. I need everything, but all I get is this--this prison--with the man who kidnapped me, the man who I used to think I loved.

My alarm must be pretty obvious because the next thing I know Sebastian goes into protective mode, reaching a hand out and stroking my hair. I shove him off. "No, Sebastian. No."

His forehead creases, and he looks genuinely worried. He's sure as hell a good faker. "Did I upset you?"

I hate how kind he looks. How innocent he looks.

A laugh bubbles out of me, one of those insane, throw-back-your-head kinds of laughs I've seen in movies. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I say, exasperated. "You locked me up here!"

"That was to save you." His voice is still quiet, almost a growl.

"I don't need to be saved."

He looks into my eyes. His are fierce and intense, like they're latching onto mine and not letting go. "Yes," he says slowly, dragging out the word. "Yes, you do."

"You don't--"

But he doesn't let me finish. "Do you know why I know you need saving, angel?" he says, his voice rising, moving his face in closer to me. His lips are inches from mine, hot and heavy and so, so close. This close to him, I can feel his breath on my lips, the heat emanating from his body. "I know you need saving because you're like me!" Sebastian continues, his voice filling with rage. "We're both fucked up people. We're both shards of what we once were. We both need saving. We both need… we need… we need each other. We need each other to put back the shards of ourselves." He stops then, his voice rough and consuming, and every part of me feels numb with him this close to me. "These men… I can't let them hurt you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if they did, so I'm keeping you here to protect you from them." He drops his gaze, his hot breath right by my lips. "I love you, angel," he whispers, eyes burning into mine. "I've been broken so many times before. I just want to make you safe."

In that instant, a part of me longs to believe him. A part of me sees how hurt he is, how much he cares about me, and wishes that the circumstances could be different, that none of this ever happened, that I could kiss him without it feeling so, so wrong. He is clearly a broken man, a man in love who doesn't know how to handle it, but at the same time, I won't let myself feel anything but disgust toward him.

I hate him. I hate him and nothing can change that.

So I shake my head, disbelieving, clenching my fists so hard. A tear threatens to fall from my eyes. "Who are you, Sebastian?" I whisper, my voice trembling all over.

He stands up, looks away. He doesn't even meet my gaze. "I don't know, angel," he says at last. "I don't even know anymore."

Then, he turns around and starts walking out of the room. His voice is sad as he calls back while unlocking the door, "I left lunch for you on the table and stocked up the bathroom with everything you'll need. Have a good night." And then he throws open the door, steps through, and slams it behind him, leaving me trapped in here once again.

Chapter Seven

Sebastian doesn’t return until dinnertime. I'd think he's pouting if I didn't know better, but I heard his car leave the house for a few hours, so I assume he's off to see if the men are coming.

While he's gone, I spend my day looking for escape routes. Unfortunately, there are none. At all. The tiny window in the bathroom is blocked by prison bars, and the thick marble walls are so sturdy that even hitting them with a metal chair does nothing. I try the door, too, but it's also marble and totally solid, and without a wire of some sort I can't pick the lock. There is no way to break through the ceiling, and the solid marble floor is too hard to dig through.

There is absolutely no way out, I realize to my absolute horror. The only way is unlocking the door with Sebastian's keys.

Defeated, I slump back into my seat at the end of the table and eat the lunch he left me, feeling sick to my stomach the whole time.

I wonder what my parents would say if they saw me now. Me. Their idiot daughter who fell for a man she didn’t even know, and is now here: locked up in someone else's safe house and possibly going to be killed or tortured herself.

I am pathetic.

No, I'm worse than pathetic. I wanted to love Sebastian so badly, wanted him to love me back, wanted to find happiness for once in my life that I just became too trusting, and then bam. This happened. And now I hate myself for it. I hate the world for not even giving me a little bit of happiness. I hate that the second I see a shred of goodness in my life, whenever I reach for it, I just fall deeper into this never-ending hole.

My parents would be so disappointed. They were so successful when they were alive, loved by everyone as such great sports agents, and look at me. I'm nobody. I can't even get a real job. I can't even have a real friend without it going bad. And now I'm paying for it. Without knowing what to do, I reach for the plate on the table and hurl it against the wall. It shatters into a million pieces, a few of which return to cut at my arm. When I see the blood, my legs go weak, and I just crumple up and cry some more.

I feel so pathetic.

So. fucking. pathetic.

Sebastian returns a few hours later, after I've showered and cleaned myself up and covered up the dried tears. I sweep up the plate, fix my bed, and lie there for a while, looking up at the ceiling filled with various Ancient Greek-esque paintings, wondering if I'll ever get out of here.

I'm still thinking that when I hear a click at the safe house door, and Sebastian steps inside. I sit up, watching him carefully, making sure he doesn't pull anything. The room is dark, but I can see the tired look in his eyes even from here, the way the dark circles are carved beneath him. He's been worrying, I realize. Worrying, for me.

"Angel," he says. He's still wearing his dark suit and bowtie, and his dark hair is cropped back and freshly cleaned, like he just came from sort of business meeting or something.

I don't respond as he approaches. Don't say hello or anything. I only glare at him, hoping he'll leave, but he doesn't. He walks all the way up to me, his blue eyes softer than ever, focused on me. He stops when he reaches my bed, breathing slowly in and out, looking down at me. I can feel his warmth wrapping me up, can feel his body right in front of mine. "How are you?" he says quietly after a few minutes.

My muscles tense up.

That's it. That's all he says. He stands over me in bed, his breath by my lips, asking me how I am. I open my mouth to laugh at him, but his voice sounds so genuine, so full of concern, that I don't have the heart to do it.

I don't understand why he cares, but curiosity gets the best of me, so I decide to answer him. "Not well," I say, looking at my hands, and it's the truth.

He shifts closer to me, resting his body on the edge of the bed. His eyes are still focused on mine, so warm and caring and worried it makes my heart hurt. His side is now inches from my face, the heat from his body pulsing through the air. I sit up and edge away from him, just to be safe.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this, you know," Sebastian breathes, watching me sadly, as if he hates himself for making me distrust him so much. "I wish this wasn't my only choice."

I don't say anything at that. I only look at him, searching his eyes to see if he's lying. Strangely, it doesn't feel like he is. I hate myself immediately for thinking it, though. I mean, he's just trying to trick me, right? He's just trying to gain my trust so he can screw me over later, isn't he? And as much as I want to believe that's the case, I know, deep down, that it isn't. I know Sebastian well enough to tell he is telling the truth.

Sebastian reaches out a hand then, still looking at me, his fingers dangling by my hair. I flinch immediately, and he sighs. "May I, angel?" he asks softly, his voice filled with concern. I start to tell him no, to tell him to get the hell out of here, but the words refuse to come. My throat is too choked up, my voice too hurt from my screaming. So, I take a breath, and I nod.

Sebastian looks at me knowing, then hesitates as he moves his fingers throughout my long hair, expertly touching me, guiding his way across my skin. Something about the way he rubs my hair is so calming, and it makes me want nothing more than to close my eyes and fall asleep to it, to him touching me.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask at last. My voice is so quiet, so strained, it's like it isn't even there. "If you really are just trying to protect me from those men, why do you have to lock me up? Why don't you trust me enough to stay by your side?"

He sighs at my question, but doesn't say anything. He just continues to run his fingers through my hair, with his breath on my lips, his side touching mine. I listen to the hum of the heater around me, to the distant chirping of birds just outside this safe house. I let myself relax with Sebastian this close to me, let myself breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. I know I shouldn't feel safe with him. I know I shouldn't trust him. But for whatever reason, I… I do. Or at least, I don't have the energy to fight him off right now.

"I wish I knew the answer to that," Sebastian says at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I've learned that trust has nothing to do with it. People you love get hurt all the time, no matter what you do, no matter how much you plan. And I've lost so many people, angel. I've lost so much that I'm fucking sick and tired of seeing those I care about get hurt. I don't want that to happen to you too," he whispers. "So I'm just trying to keep you safe, through the only way I have left."

There's a pause as soon as he says it, and I listen to the beat of my heart, to the longing in his voice. Sebastian doesn't move any closer to me, doesn't try to pull anything, which takes me off guard. He isn't even looking at me anymore. His eyes are focused on the door to the safe house, like they're the gateway into another dimension only he knows about. He just keeps running his hand through my hair, giving me my distance, sighing sadly. "I'll let you out as soon as you're safe, angel," he says after a while. "I promise you that much."

Then he opens and closes his eyes and starts to stand up. The bed groans from the shift in weight, as Sebastian pulls off of it. He stands up and starts to brush his suit off, looking at me the whole time with those sad blue eyes of his. "I'm sorry," he whispers, shifting his jaw so he's looking directly at me. "I hope you know that I'm sorry."

* * *

Sebastian leaves again the next day, this time for almost twelve hours. I don't do anything all day but lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling, replaying our last conversation again and again in my head. As much as I wish it weren't true, a part of me is starting to believe Sebastian. A part of me realizes that he really does care about me, that in the end, he's just a broken man in love, a man who wants to protect me, wants to love me, but doesn't know how to show it. He's been hurt before; he's been hurt so much, that he doesn't want to take any chances on my safety.

And I know I can't ever really be with him, can't ever really like him after he locked me up like this, but I still find myself feeling for him. I still find myself understanding him, or at least trying to, as much as I wish I wouldn't.

I lie in bed all day, just thinking, just hoping, just longing for a way out.

I don't move when I hear Sebastian's car pull up a few hours later. Or when the door flings open. Or when I hear his angry cursing. I don't move when he races right up to me, his eyes filled with need and hunger. I don't move as he wraps his arms around me and lifts me out of bed, then places me gently onto the ground beside him.

Immediately, I step back. My body starts shaking. I know full well not to trust him. I keep my back pressed to the bed, ready to run in case he tries anything. "What are you doing?" I whisper cautiously, waiting for his reaction.

Sebastian's eyes stay on mine as he whispers, "Something I should have done long ago." His voice is filled with need.

I stop.

Need… for me.

He takes a step closer, not looking away. Heat radiates from his body and wraps around me, like I'm engulfed by flames, and as much as I should want to back away, to get the hell out of here, I can't. I just stand there, looking into his eyes, not knowing what to say. I'm rooted in the spot. Rooted… and a part of me would rather be nowhere else.

"I need you to do something for me," he says in a low voice, his eyes searching mine, and in my mind I'm back in the hotel room, with his lips by my ear as he whispers his stories to me. "Do you think you can do that?"

"What do you want?" I say quietly. I know fighting him is no use. I know I'm his prisoner, I know he's controlling me, and I know protests will help nothing.

He takes a deep breath, not once taking his eyes off of mine. "I need you to dance for me, angel."

I freeze. My eyes focus on his to see if he's lying. "Huh?"

"Dance for me," he repeats, not hesitating for a second.

I start protest. The doctors said I could never dance again, not without risking hurting my leg for good, and I'm sure as hell not dancing for Sebastian of all people. "No, I can't--"

"I know you used to dance," he says. His voice is urgent, demanding. "And so I'm asking you, to dance for me just this once."

I open my mouth to argue some more, but then I see the need in Sebastian's face and I know I can't say no. "Okay," I say softly. I hate myself so much for agreeing to it, but somehow, I don't want to fight this. I want to dance--I want to find a way to escape this place, even if it's only for a few seconds.

"Good," he says, then holds up a CD player. "Which song?"

"Swan Lake." I don't take my eyes off of his as his hands move to turn on the song. There's a click, and then the quiet melody fills the air.

"Dance for me, my angel," Sebastian whispers again, and I look into his eyes, and I feel the tears glistening in mine, but I do, I do, I do. I move into the middle of the dark room under Sebastian's watchful gaze, and I dance. The song is slow and gradual, full of longing and need for escape, and I suspend my right hand over my head, close my eyes, and let everything else fade away. My legs arch forward, then swing in a circle, and then I'm spinning, feeling nothing but the air wrapping around my body and the beautiful, beautiful peace of it all. I lean my head back, then drift forward to Sebastian, my movements graceful and easy. Everything hums as I dance, and all of the pain and the fear and the tears from before seem to fade away.

The tempo picks up, growing deeper and darker, and I find myself dancing faster, faster, faster. My body follows such simple movements, my legs propelling me forward and making me spin in a circle, my arms arched on either side of my body. I feel so relaxed when I'm dancing, and even in the dark room under Sebastian's watchful gaze, dancing frees me. Dancing makes me whole again.

Finally, in between a spin, I look up to meet Sebastian's stare--just for a second. His blue eyes are filled with something deep and broken, trained on me, and suddenly all I want is to be near him again.

I can't explain it.

I can't even begin to make sense of it.

Sebastian has made me his prisoner, and yet, I still feel drawn to him, I still want him and I don't even know why.

"Dance with me, Sebastian," I whisper as the music speeds up. I hold out my trembling hand.

He takes it without hesitation. It feels weird to touch him again, and I almost want to pull back, to stop this before anything happens, because I know wholeheartedly that I can't trust him. But still, I find myself… wanting to. Wanting to do this.

But it's too late, because then he is dancing with me, and we spin across the room, our bodies moving with each other effortlessly, like they're bound together by some invisible yarn. Everything about Sebastian is fiery, a light burning into my skin, but I can't stop wanting him. I lean my head back and he catches me in his long, muscular arms, pulling me up and then spinning me around. We dance and dance until we can't dance anymore, until the music stops and it's just me and Sebastian, me in his arms, panting and sweating and trying to focus on my breathing. All of the air seems to be sucked out of the room. Everything but the pulsing of our bodies and the heat and tangled desire disappears. It's just us and the music, and I can feel myself drawing closer to him as we dance, can feel myself wanting him, even after everything he has done to me.

By the time we stop, Sebastian holds me in his arms. My breathing comes in slow pants, my skin as sweaty as his is, but I can't look away from him. I'm lost in the beautiful blue in his eyes, in the closeness of his body to mine, and all I want to do is push on the space between us until there is nothing there, nothing but his body. He holds me in his arms with surprising grace. My back is bent backwards, but he keeps me from falling by holding me in in his arms, leaning forward so that his mouth is only inches from mine. Sebastian's breath comes in slow gulps. I feel the tingling and heat crawling into my skin at the possibility of kissing him, and I concentrate on the silence of the room, the way both of our bodies feel so connected as we danced. I can still hear the music in my ears even though it's long gone now.

All of my instincts are screaming at me to pull away, to push him off of me and try to get out of here, to not feel anything but hatred for him, but the rest of me refuses. The rest of me wants this, this moment, this man. I can't put the feeling into words, but I find myself gravitating toward him despite myself, needing him in ways I can't possibly express.

I know it's wrong. I know none of this makes any sense. But something about this man… something draws me in. Something makes me want to trust him, even though I shouldn't.

"I didn't know you could dance, Sebastian," I whisper after a minute in between breaths, my eyes fixated on his, drowning in the sea of his blue eyes.

He smiles, one of those sad, fleeting smiles of his. "You don't know a lot of things about me, angel."

And then he pulls me up so that I'm standing right next to him. Our mouths are inches away, hovering there. The music has stopped. The rain has stopped. Everything has stopped but this moment. It's just us in the darkness of the room, and I can barely see anything but I have enough senses to tell that all I need is right here in front of me, right here for my taking.

"Kiss me," I whisper despite my protesting instincts, and when he does, everything is fire. His lips are hot and passionate, urgent even, like kissing me is the air he needs to survive. I kiss him back, harder and harder, and he matches me, and I don't even know what I'm doing but I can't bring myself to stop, either. My arms go around his body and his slip down my back, moving lower and lower, faster and faster. Kissing Sebastian feels wrong in every possibly way, and yet, so, so right. I press myself closer to him, moaning as he trails his kiss down my neck and toward my breast. He teases me at first, moving his mouth around the arch of my breast, and I feel the tingling race through my body as he, finally, kisses me there. My head goes back, and his mouth moves lower and lower, ever so slowly, down my stomach. I feel the pressure building up inside of me, feel my stomach gets hotter and hotter the closer he gets to me. I need him, I need him so bad, and I moan at the thought of him going there, at the desire that pulses throughout my body. But when he reaches the space between my inner thighs, Sebastian stops. His lips don't move. I moan again, wanting him to finish it, closing my eyes and falling back and back. "Do it," I whisper desperately. "Touch me there."

But he doesn't. He pulls back and stands up, blue eyes hard and passionate. "I can't," he growls. His breath is hot and thick, and I can see he wants to touch me there--touch me everywhere--but is holding himself back.

"Yes," I gasp, the need racing through me. "Yes, you can."

"No." He looks so conflicted as he shakes his head. "No. I don't deserve you, angel. I can't make you mine, because I don't deserve you. I've done bad things, really bad things, and I love you too much to let you fall for me."

My heart aches at his words. After everything, Sebastian is… scared of me? Scared of loving me? Scared of being with me? My hands shake. No. No. I need him. I need to have him. And in that moment, as much as I wish it weren't, I know it's the absolute truth.

"But I want you," I say, pressing myself up against him.

He looks up at me, shaking his head. "You're beautiful, angel," he says at last. His voice has this sad little edge to it, as if he's reminiscing about an old friend. "Did you know that?"

"You've told me, Sebastian," I breathe. I can still hear myself panting, but all of that seems to fade away now, because every part of me is focusing on Sebastian and how fucking much I want him. "You've always told me."

"I just wanted you to know," he says quietly. "I don't want you to forget that. Not ever." His voice is so quiet and meaningful that I can't turn away from him, no matter how hard I try.

"I won't," I promise, looking into those scorching blue eyes of his. "I won't ever."

"Good," he says in his same, rough voice. He looks like he wants to leave now, to be anywhere but near me. He pauses for a minute, not moving, our bodies intertwined for what feels like eternity. Finally, he sighs. "You know how I told you I locked you up here to save you… from the men?"

"Yes," I say slowly. I'm still reeling from what just happened. My hands shake at the realization that I almost let the man who locked me up in here go inside of me, and I wanted it.

I fight back a tear, self-hatred rushing in. What is wrong with me? How am I so desperate that I'd want the man causing all of my pain this badly? Oh shit oh shit. I can't want him. I can't feel anything but hatred toward him.

I bite my lip. Hard.

Sebastian's gaze is as intense as ever, trained on mine. "Well, it's true, those men do want to hurt you." He drops his voice to a hush, but it sounds so sincere that it catches me off guard. "But I also locked you up here so you could be protected from me," he whispers. "So we could be separated, and I could save you. From myself."

I stop. Stop moving. Stop wanting him. This is not what I expected I hear. "Why do I need to be saved from you?" I whisper. My hand starts shaking. "Who are you, Sebastian?"

He pushes me away, ever so gently. "I'm no one. I'm the man you can never want." Sebastian turns away at that and heads to the door, shaking his head back and forth and back and forth. "You don't want me, angel," he repeats quietly. "Trust me on that."

Then he reaches the door, swings it open, and steps through, slamming it behind him. But I swear to god I hear him add something on his way out, so quietly I think I might be dreaming: "Nobody wants me."

Chapter Eight

The next few days go by slowly. Sebastian leaves to look for the men who are after us several times, which I'm beginning to realize may not be a lie after all, and I spend my time while he's away desperately searching for an escape. I haven't seen real sunlight in almost two weeks now, and I can feel myself slowly losing it. My head hurts all the time and my muscles feel so weak. It's like the darkness has sucked all of the life out of me.

One thing is for sure: I need out.

I. need. out.

Sometimes, when I get desperate, I just run at the door and try to hit it, pounding on it and screaming and screaming and pleading for someone to help me, someone to let me out, someone to free me, but no one comes. I desperately slam on the marble door with my fists, with my arm, with my foot, and still, there is no one to rescue me. I'm trapped here--trapped for good.

Other times, when I don't know what else to do, I just crumple up and cry. I let my legs go weak and close my eyes, and let the tears pour out of me. Crying is healthy, at least. Crying makes me feel like I'm still okay.

Other times, I can't even cry. I just sit there and stare at the empty wall and wait for the tears to fall, but they refuse to come. It's like they've been drained out of me. Like Sebastian took away not only my heart and my well-being, but my tears as well. He took everything from me, to protect me, to save me, or whatever it is he is doing to me, and I hate him for it. But I also want him so badly, so badly I can't even explain it.

Still, I haven't felt this desperate, this dark inside, since the days after my parents were killed. It feels like everything is crashing down again, like my whole life has been a downhill spiral and now that I've hit rock bottom, there's no climbing back up.

There is no escaping this safe house, I've realized, defeated. I'm trapped in here, possibly forever.

But on Wednesday night, marking two weeks since I first arrived here, that all changes. Or at least, it changes a little.

I'm sitting on my bed, thinking about what it would be like to dance in front of my parents again, to perform and let everything else melt away, when Sebastian comes over to me and says, "I want to show you something, my angel."

I sit up and turn around.

He'd just come out of the shower, and right now he's wearing nothing but a towel. He runs a hand through his wet dark hair, those blue eyes transfixed on me. Steam pours off of him as he closes the bathroom door behind him, and he looks so incredible that it makes my skin tingle.

"Nice shirt," I say to him, unable to stop staring at his perfectly chiseled abs. They're long and lean, and his biceps ripple with muscle, the kind of muscle you don't get from working out at the gym, but from pure, real-world fighting.

He gives me a crooked little smile. "I thought you might like that."

I watch him as he moves over to me, slipping on a shirt and then, unfortunately, pants. I love the way his body looks and moves, love how his muscles tense when he's nervous, love how looking at him makes my skin feel hot and tense and causes traces of a blush to creep across my cheeks. I am infatuated with his body, with every visible inch of him, and as much as I wish I weren't, as much as I want to hate him, I just can't.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask once he walks back over to me, the fear starting to creep in. I don't trust Sebastian. Not at all. I still think he is going to do something bad to me. But I can't deny the connection I feel for him, the irresistible draw he gives me.

He grabs my hand and leads me toward the door. "Just somewhere," he says, more to himself than me.

He stops once he reaches the door. My stomach tenses up as he puts his key into the lock, then swings it open as soon as it clicks. Sunlight pours into the dark room, and even though it's cloudy outside, it feels blinding.

I haven't seen sun in weeks.

I hesitate as soon as he motions for me to step through. "You… you're letting me go?" I say. My voice trembles, but I can't help myself. I know I should be rushing out, pushing past him and trying to get the hell out of here, but I'm too stunned to move. "After everything? You're letting me go? Just like that?"

Sebastian shakes his head. He has a perplexed look in his eyes, and his dimples grow like he's about to smile. "I'm not letting you go," he says, raising his voice, his eyes burning into mine. "I'm taking you somewhere, you'll see where. I trust you, angel, but I won't let you escape until I'm sure you're safe. You're still my prisoner, and don't ever forget that. I own you. I'm not your knight in shining armor. I'm trying to save you, from myself and from those men, but I'm not going to sweep you off your feet. I'm just going to protect you, and that means locking you up." His voice sounds is rough and urgent but oddly sincere, and I stare back at him, frozen, trying to read him. I can't tell if he really is just trying to save me, or if it's all part of some elaborate lie to gain my trust. It shouldn’t matter either way, because who the fuck locks up someone to save them? But it does matter. I hate that it does, but it does.

"Okay," I say slowly, watching him closely. I take a deep breath as I step outside and into his arms for the first time in weeks.

The sun is so blinding that I have to squeeze my eyes shut almost immediately. I can't see where I'm going, but Sebastian steers me forward, his hand placed gently on my back. His chin hovers right above my shoulder, and I can hear his steady breaths, can smell his masculine scent of mint and sweat. He feels good, holding me like this, as he steers me up a hill of some sort. He feels really, really good. And I realize I should be thinking about how to escape or something, or how much I hate him for locking me up, but I just… I can't.

It occurs to me then how easy it could be to run away right now. I could just push him aside and make a break for it, and he may or may not be able to catch up to me. I could do so many things to get away, and one week ago, I would've tried all of them. But there is something so sincere and innocent in the way Sebastian speaks to me, looks at me, something that tells me he really, truly does care about me. He does love me. He does want me. He's just a man in love above all else, a man who is broken and doesn't want to lose me.

And I guess, in a way, I don't want to lose him too.

I let Sebastian guide me all the way up the hill, past the sounds of wind whistling through the trees and the steady chirping of birds above me, until he finally stops before a house of some sort. I try to open my eyes, but I can't make out much. I see Sebastian walk up to it, open the door or something, and then he motions me inside. "C'mon. I have something important to show you."

My instincts tell me to turn and run away right now. Every part of me screams it, in fact. And I feel myself start to. I feel my legs go weak from the trembles, and I feel myself edge back, ready to sprint as far away from here as possible, but my legs are frozen in place, refusing to leave. I just stand there for a while, with Sebastian watching me with narrowed eyes, as if testing whether I trust him.

"Okay," I finally say, hating myself immediately for being so stupid. I stumble toward the door after him, and he catches me when I trip over a root and almost fall into the stairs.

"Careful there, angel," he whispers into my ear, pulling me up with his thick arms and smiling. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt, after all this."

I don't answer.

Sebastian leads me inside. The house is dark, and I'm relieved that I can open my eyes without squinting again. It's an old house, like something out of a horror movie, filled with broken windows and upturned furniture and a creaking door and moth-eaten carpets. The air inside here is thick and musty, and I have to bite back a gag as soon as I breathe it in.

Taking my hand, Sebastian leads me up the rickety stairs, down the old, crumbling hallway, and into a room at the end of the top floor. It's old and painted a peeling blue color, with dusty posters hanging over the wall and a desk full of pictures of a smiling boy and an older woman standing over him. The bed is empty and unmade, seemingly untouched for years, and the ceiling is filled with poorly-drawn stars, like sketches from a little kid.

"Welcome to paradise," Sebastian says without a trace of humor, gesturing to the room around him.

I frown at him for a minute, looking around. The room is too small to hold more than one person, and too old have been used in the last five years. Then my eyes drift to another picture of the little boy, this time of him holding a small saxophone, and when I look back at Sebastian, it hits me.

"This is your room," I say quietly, unable to believe he's really revealing this much of himself to me. If he were really trying to harm me, why would he show me his old room? Why is he… why is he opening up to me like this?

"Guilty as charged." Sebastian gives me a sad smile, and for a second, it's like he regrets bringing me here. But it's gone as quickly as it comes, before I even have time to frown. "Here." Sebastian motions me forward with his hand. "I have something to show you."

He reaches into the little dresser beside the bed, searches around a bit, and finally pulls out a picture of the same boy, this time playing his saxophone for the woman in the other photo. He takes a seat down on the bed, then pats the space beside him. "Sit," he says. I obey.

Sebastian sighs as soon as I sit beside him, like he already regrets what he's about to tell me. He hands me the picture. It's dusty and cool at the touch. As I look closer, I see that the boy is smiling. He looks happy, genuinely happy, so different than the Sebastian I know now.

"I was twelve in that picture," he says. He isn't looking at me. His eyes are focused on the window, that distant little look in them. "I was happy then. With Jodie, the woman who took me in after… what happened to my family. She was happy too. She loved me, made me her kid, because her husband left her when she couldn't produce one of her own. She taught me so much, about life and love… so much I ignored." He sighs. "I was a music prodigy then. I've always had a thing for music, playing or dancing. I didn't go to school, so I spent my time with music. And… well, I got into fights sometimes too. I was always an angry kid after what had happened to me. Music made me happy, but everything else seemed to infuriate. I fought a lot. Hated a lot. I learned a lot about toughening up and hurting people who deserve to be hurt in the times that I got in fights like that. I learned as many good lessons as I learned bad lessons, and when I was eighteen, I got a… job offer. I told Jodie it was a job as a music teacher but it was across the country, which means I'd have to leave, and she seemed disappointed but told me to follow my dreams anyway. And I did. I left her the next week because I knew I was bad for her, just like I'm bad for you. I lied to her, though. It wasn't a music teaching job I got offer. I didn't have any other way to get a job, not with my lack of education background and my broken past, so I took the one I could find… plus, I was stupid back then. I thought the job would make me happy. I was so angry, so hateful… I just needed a way to get it all out. I knew I couldn't live with myself if Jodie knew the truth, so I left her like I left my family." He drops his voice to a whisper then, and the hurt in his voice is so strong it catches me off guard. "I leave everyone. I don't get happiness. I only get abandonment."

I shift closer to Sebastian, curiosity peaked. "What was the job?" I ask quietly, touching my hand to his arm, loving the feel of his hard muscle.

"You don't want to know, angel." He turns to me, and his eyes are wild, filled with fury and grief and, I think, a pang of regret. "There's no way you could love me if you knew."

"That's not true."

"Is it, angel?" He looks angry now, hurt, even. "I'm not a good person. Hell, I lost my fucking mind a long time ago. But I guess that's part of the job. I guess that's what… they… wanted, though. You just don't understand what it's like. You don't understand what it means to spend your whole life full of anger and hate, doing a job that gives you nightmares all night and all the time just so you can pay for yourself and your aging adoptive mother who is too stubborn to ask for money even when you both know she needs it."

I move closer to him, staring back into his eyes. I really should hate him. But I find myself lost in our closeness, wanting to heal this broken soul beside me more than I can explain. "I understand, Sebastian. I understand more than most. That's the point, remember? We're both broken in different ways, but shattered enough that only we have the ability to help each other." I add, "You can trust me."

He's shaking his head like he already regrets what he's going to say. "Just know that I didn't have a choice, when I joined them. I needed a job, and without an education background no one would take me. I needed the money. I needed to care for myself and Jodie, to send her those monthly checks, so this was the only option. When the man, Marco, offered me the job, I didn’t know what else to do but say yes. I knew he was a drug dealer, but--"

"What was the job?" I say. My heart starts pounding. Drug dealer? This can't be good.

Sebastian's eyes lock on mine. He stares at me for a long while, just sitting there, so intense and so hurt, until finally he says, "A killer. A professional killer. A hitman, really." My heart skips a beat. Oh no. Oh shit shit shit shit. "It's for a drug cartel," he continues. "They also do human trafficking, among other things, which is why I didn't want them to take your friend. They… they have a lot of enemies. And when they want someone dead, they go to me. The work paid well and it kept me afloat for a while. Without it, I wouldn't have survived. Plus, it also made me less and less angry, at least at first. So I did it. I've worked the job for a few years now, since I was eighteen, and I learned a lot of… tricks of the trade, if you will." He leans into me, his breath on my lips. Electricity radiates through the air, pouring off his body and wrapping me up. "It hasn't been fun, angel. I'm not proud of what I did. But I needed to do it for the money. I needed to provide for Jodie and me. You have to understand that. You have to understand that it was my only choice."

I find my body shaking. My heart keeps pounding in my chest. I don't know what to do. I'm frozen in my spot, trembling, the fear racing in. Sebastian is a hitman. He kills people for a living. I fell for a murderer, and became one myself. Everything hurts at the thought. It feels like a betrayal, a punch in the gut, but I don't know what to say. I just keep shaking my head, denying it again and again in my head even though I know it's true. And then I think: if he's really a hitman, how do I know I won't end up the same way all of his previous hits have? "And you betrayed them?" I manage to croak out. "Is that why they're after you?"

Sebastian looks at me with obvious worry, as if he's afraid I'm about to crack. I'm afraid of that, too, honestly. I feel so sick all of a sudden. I just want to get out of here, away from him, away from all of this. I want to stop being a prisoner. I want to stop feeling like some sort of caged animal. "Yes," Sebastian says at last. "A couple years ago, they gave me a job, an important job, and I couldn't do it, so I covered it up. They found out a few weeks later, and they've been after me ever since."

My head just keeps racing in my chest. I'm falling for a killer. A professional killer. I wonder what my parents would say about this, what Ash would say, what anyone would say. I'm an idiot, that's what they'd say. That I'm a complete. fucking. idiot. "What about the scar?" My voice is weak.

He shakes his head. "You don't need to know about the scar."

"No," I say, maybe too demanding, still trembling. "I do."

This gets Sebastian. He stands up suddenly, his face hot, his eyes wild and angry. "No," he yells harshly. "You don't!"

I feel like I've just been punched in the face. I just keep staring at him, unable to process everything he is telling me. "Sebastian--" I start to say.

He glowers at me, then looks away. "I don't want to hear it."

"Sebastian--"

"What?" he roars, snapping back around at me. His face is red and angry, and his veins bulge out of his forehead. "What do you want? Can't you see my problem? I want you, angel," he yells. "I want you everywhere! But I can't have you. I can't corrupt you. I wouldn't do that to you. I'm not a good person, and falling for me is only going to get you hurt, so I won't. fucking. let you. So I ask again, what do you fucking want?"

I stand up now too. I won't be weak. I won't be weak. My eyes are level with his, his smoldering and angry and mine, well… sad. Distant. I feel distant. But this close to Sebastian, with his lips right next to mine, I know this is right. I know this is what I need. "I want you," I say simply, searching his eyes for a response. "I want you," I say again, like it'll make him understand, my voice stronger, more certain. "I want you everywhere, Sebastian. Can't you see? I need you. I need you like I need to breathe."

"And that's the problem," Sebastian says. "You can't need me. You shouldn't fucking need me! I'm not the kind of person you rely on. I do terrible things to survive. I'm not relationship material, angel. I'm built for ditching and fucking. I'm trying to save you from those men, but I also need to save you for myself. Because if I let you fall for me, then I'm letting you throw your whole life away. And please don't throw your life away. I know we care about each other, but please don't ruin it all for just a little desire."

I step closer to him, feeling his heat wrap around my body. Everything about Sebastian is intense. Everything about him leaves me drained, but in the best way possible. "Who says it's just a little desire? I need you, Sebastian. It's worse for me not to be with you. So just have me," I whisper, my voice low. "All of me. I need you to take me," I say, eyes locked on his.

He shakes his head, not convinced.

"How can I prove it?" I ask.

"You can't," Sebastian says quickly, and he looks ready to end this, to bring me back to my cellar and shut me there for eternity. But then he stops. Gets an idea. And he looks at me--really looks at me. "Kiss me, angel," he says suddenly. "Prove to me you know what you're getting into. Kiss me like you mean it."

I look at him, at his deep blue eyes, at the intense concentration in his features, and I can see he means it. I can see he needs me too. I can see, as twisted as it sounds, that even though I'm his prisoner, we were built for each other. And before I know what I'm doing, my lips are shoved against his. Everything feels so hot in that moment. Everything goes quiet, fades away. Everything is gone but the feeling of Sebastian kissing me. His lips are flames refusing to be doused as he kisses back harder and harder, and it feels real and edgy and thrilling and dangerous and so wrong, and yet so… not. Kissing Sebastian is the most exhilarating thing in the world, and his loves move with mine effortlessly. We kiss harder, faster, hotter, until the world melts away and there is nothing but the heat in my stomach and my sweaty, tingling skin against his.

Suddenly, his lips are no longer mine, and he's panting, gasping for breath, his eyes full of hunger as he moves his gaze down to my breasts and pulls his shirt over his head. I pull mine off at the same time, and then we meet again, kissing harder, more fiercely. His hands move down to my bra, slipping inside, teasing me. I feel my nipples go hard as he traces a finger around them, and a familiar urgent ache rises deep within my body.

He slips off his pants next, then pulls off mine with his expert hands. We both keep gasping for air, and I swear the heater just cranked up. There is nothing but us in this room, in this world. There is nothing but us and our bodies and our desire.

Our lips are locked again before I know what's happening, and I feel the sparks flying, the burning need his lips give me.

"Are you ready?" he whispers. I'm still gasping for air once we pull away, but he doesn't even seem fazed by it all. He's ready for the next part. The real part.

"Always," I gasp, and then his boxers are off. And I see him again, full and broad and glorious, and the deep ache in my body grows, the pressure building up deep inside of me with primal need, because I know I want him. So, so badly.

Before I realize what's happening, he grabs me by the legs and thrusts me against the wall, bringing me to eye-level with him. My heart is pounding and my whole body feels alive, more alive than ever, as Sebastian's erection touches my inner thighs. I don't take my eyes off of him, don't stop panting and gasping as he slips off my panties slowly, cautiously, lingering his finger around the space between my legs. Teasing me. I feel myself moan, wanting him to touch me there, but he has other plans.

"Will you let me have you just for tonight, angel?" he asks, his blue eyes so strong, boring into mine. "You're sure?"

"I'm all yours," I whisper, tilting my head back. My back arches as I feel his erection touching my inner thigh. The pressure keeps building up inside of me. I feel the heat and the tingling and the sweat on my skin, and he goes inside of me gently, slowly, and then he's there, and I feel the pressure in my body building and building until all of it is let out in one beautiful, climatic instant. My head goes weak, and I feel the tremors rack through me as Sebastian moves around inside of me and I gasp, I moan, but I don’t let him stop even as my eyes roll back in my head.

Chapter Nine

We're ambushed at ten a.m. the next morning. I know because Sebastian told me the time when he came back inside the safe house he's kept me locked up in to give me breakfast. My mind is still reeling from yesterday, from everything he told me, everything he did.

Sebastian is a hitman.

And he fucked me good, and now all I want is more, more, more.

I wish I didn't, though. I wish I didn't feel all these things I'm feeling for him. I wish I didn't want to get down on my knees and beg for more, beg for him, as badly as I do. But I need Sebastian. I need his body. I need his touch. And last night was only proof of that.

I don't care about the consequences. I don't care that he kills people for a living. I don't care about how bad of a person he is on the outside because I know, deep down, he's just a lost soul desperately trying to do the right thing. I've never cared for anyone as much as I care about him, and I need someone in my life, someone who can thrill me, and if Sebastian can do one thing, then he's all I need.

"How are you?" he asks that morning, handing me a cup of coffee and a delicious-looking plate of mashed potatoes and eggs.

"A little sore," I admit.

He looks disappointed. "Only a little?"

I smile as I bite into my eggs. "Yes. Is that wrong?"

"Angel," he whispers, brushing his lips against my cheek and kissing me, slowly, softly. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right. I need you hurting. I need me hurting. I need us both to really feel each other, and to know we are made to be together. I need to claim you. I want you to remember that you're mine."

"I won't forget, Sebastian," I say. "I'll never forget."

He smiles lightly, kissing my neck now. I arch it back, letting my head roll back as he touches me there, listening to each of his melodic breaths as he kisses the pain away. "I know," he says. "I know. I just want you to remember. I want you to feel it. I want you to feel me."

"Then do it," I breathe. "Fuck me again."

He laughs to himself, turns away. "Not yet. But soon, I promise you. I'll make you feel it soon. Now eat up. I want you strong for later." Then, I hear the door open, and I assume he steps outside.

I nod. My heart is already racing at the prospect of this illustrious "later," so I eat my breakfast as quickly as possible. I look out at the marble walls, my eyes moving across the painful darkness of the room, and once again, I find myself wondering if I'll ever get out, or if, when the time comes, I'll even want to anymore. Sebastian is still trying to save me, and I know he will keep me here until he's certain I'm safe. But in a really twisted way, I'm starting to like being his captive. I like having him all to myself. I like when he kisses me, when he fucks me, and now I want more.

But what if it's not enough?

I'm busy contemplating the possibility as soon as I hear the cars pull up.

Cars.

As in, multiple cars.

As in, not Sebastian.

My whole body freezes. My stomach goes tight, and my heart thrums in my chest. The whole safe house is dark and empty, but there doesn't appear to be anyone here. "Sebastian?" I call, fear clinging to my voice. Shit. Where is Sebastian? Did he leave the safe house? I don't even remember. Shit shit shit. I was too busy thinking about fucking him again that I don't even remember where he went.

Car doors slam outside, and I hear men barking orders, running outside. They're definitely not anyone Sebastian's friends with. And definitely not here to be especially friendly to us, either.

Shit. I glance around the room desperately, searching for a weapon, a hiding place, anything to protect myself with. But I can't even remember where Sebastian keeps the guns. Oh god, where does he keep the guns? My heart is thudding in my chest now, and I jump off the bed, heading straight to the one place of protection I see: the bathroom.

The men are circling the safe house now. I can tell by the crunch of their boots outside, by the nearing sounds of their shouts. But there is no sign of Sebastian. My heart moves faster and faster. My head has started throbbing. Where is he? Where is Sebastian? Fuck fuck fuck. There is no way I stand a chance unless he comes.

I dart straight into the bathroom as I hear the men loading their guns outside, then slowly circling the building, starting in the back first.

I'm going to die. I know it then. Just like that.

I'm. going. to. die.

There is no way out and these men are after me, and I don't even know why. My whole body shakes as I slip into the bathroom and start to close the door behind me, inching back to the shower and behind the curtain, when the front door explodes open and a burst of sunlight fills the room, blinding me.

At first my heart stops, because I think it's the men, here to kill me. But then I see Sebastian running toward me, slamming the door behind him and calling my name, guns in his hands. He tosses me a machine gun as soon as he reaches me in the bathroom, keeping me protected behind his back with his hand.

The men have full circled the building now, and I hear them shouting to each other, saying words I don't understand.

I take the gun gingerly, trying to find the safety, and when I do, I immediately click it off. I cock the gun and load it, listening as a single bullet shell falls out and clinks against the tile bathroom floor. I barely know how to shoot the damn thing. I just hope like hell they are no different than shooting a handgun.

"Who are they?" I hiss to Sebastian, whose eyes are wild now, glancing back between me and the front of the safe house.

The men reached the front door now. I can hear them circling it. "They're in here!" someone shouts, and then more shouts I can't make out follow. The next thing I know, something is banging on the door.

They're trying to break in!

My head spins. My heart just keeps pounding. And I just start shaking my head, because I can't die this way. I can't die yet. I can't die here, like this.

"They're men working for Marco, the drug dealer who hired me," he says quietly, eyes transfixed on the door. "They're here to kill us."

The pounding on the door gets louder and louder, and I hear something cracking, the heartbreaking sound of the marble door starting to give way. My heart sinks. I squeeze my eyes shut. This can't be happening. This can't fucking be happening. I'm going to die and I don't even know why.

"Tell me why," I say desperately. The sound of rock cracking has gotten louder. "Tell me why they want to kill me."

"No." His eyes stay fixed on the front of the safe house. He leans against the door of the bathroom, gun raised, ready to fire. He keeps me behind him with his hand, making sure I'm out of range of the gunfire. "I promised not to tell you."

"Promised who?" I ask, needing some sort of answer, but he doesn't respond.

The cracking turns to shattering, and more yelling follows, and I know it's only a matter of time now before they break in. My heart races furiously. I need to get out of here. I need out, now. "Stay behind the shower curtain," Sebastian says suddenly. "Stay tucked away. They may not even know you're here. They'll kill me, but they may not stick around to find you."

My eyes go wide. "No, Sebastian. I'm not leaving you. I'm not ever leaving you."

The shattering turns desperate, urgent, and I know the door is one hit away from breaking.

Sebastian whips his head around. "Don't do this, angel," he pleads. "Don't throw your life away for me. Please. We still have time."

Crack.

"I'm not being left alone again," I say. "I'm not leaving anyone else behind."

But before Sebastian has time to argue, the front wall to the safe house has completely shattered, and a giant silver truck comes crashing in through it, right into the safe house. Guns start blazing immediately, and the whole room goes up in an explosion of shouts and shattering rock and gunshots everywhere.

My heart races and I feel like this is the end, this is how I'm going to die. Sebastian says, "Are you ready?" and I whisper, "Yes" and then the next thing I know he's leaping out of his place in the bathroom and letting off a round of gunshots at the men. I hear someone scream, hear more shouts, and then a round of gunshots are showered at Sebastian, one narrowly missing him.

He stands behind the door and reloads, then peeks his head out to see if the coast is clear. I watch him with a mix of awe and horror as he jumps into the clearing and releases another round of bullets, his eyes burning with something bright and oddly… satisfied? More screams come from the entrance, and I know he's hit another man, maybe two. The gunfire from the other side keeps on going, growing faster, more intense. Sebastian has to dive for cover to avoid getting hit.

The blood in my head pumps and pumps, and I feel like I'm going to be sick but the adrenaline racing through my body keeps me focused. I know I have to do this. I know have to end these men. I know have to, for me and Sebastian. For us.

Then, for a second, the gunshots stop. Everything goes silent. Sebastian turns to me, his eyes wild, and whispers, "Go, angel. Run to the bed and shoot. This is our chance," and I feel my stomach heaving, but I have no choice but to obey him. Together, we burst out of the hiding place behind the door, turn to face the painfully bright front of the safe house, and shoot. I shoot blindly, letting all of the bullets out of the gun and barely keeping myself from stumbling back. I barely know how to operate the gun. I shoot as I run to the bed, sure I'm missing everyone, but I know Sebastian has hit a few because I hear more screams of men hitting the ground. The gunshots come right back at us, earsplitting, shattering the wall behind me and reverberating throughout the room. I dive for cover behind the bed, panting and gasping, and Sebastian is right there behind me. My head pounds and my heart races, but I feel alive somehow, scared and horrified but so freaking alive.

More shots come at us, clinking against the metal of the bed, barely missing us as Sebastian and I stay low under it, holding each other close.

"There are only three left," Sebastian breathes. "I saw. If I can just get a clear shot, we can end them." His chest keeps rising and falling, but his eyebrows are deeply furrowed, and I can see the intense concentration in his eyes, the way he looks at them, calculating his next move. He's an expert in the art of murder; that much is for sure.

"What do you need?" I say in between pants.

"I need you to back me up, angel." He looks at me, just for a moment, but the intensity in his stare makes my insides melt. "Can you cover fire for me?"

"Of course," I breathe, not sure what else to say.

"Okay." Sebastian takes in a deep, long breath, like he's afraid it's going to be his last. "On the count of three."

Every muscle in my body hurts. I tense up, aiming my gun at the spot beyond the bed where I know the men are.

"One."

My heart is pounding so hard now I swear my chest is going to explode.

"Two."

I take a deep breath.

"THREE!"

The rest happens so fast.

I barely have time to blink before Sebastian barrels out from our cover under the bed, shooting at the men at the front. There are shouts and the sounds of gunshots come right back toward him. Sebastian dives out of the way, narrowly missing a flurry of bullets directed at him, and I look around wildly, cocking my gun and pointing at the space where I know the men are. Then, I start firing. More shouts come and my heart leaps into my throat as fire is returned at me, hitting the metal on the bed all around, and I squeeze my eyes shut but keep shooting.

I hear Sebastian get up, yell something, and then let off another round, and before I know what's happening, two more screams fill the air. The room goes silent, for just a moment.

My whole body freezes up at once.

One person left.

At first, there is nothing. Sebastian ducks into the bathroom to reload, and I find myself lying there, looking around wildly for the last person, until, finally, I see him. Or at least, his silhouette. He inches along the side of the safe house, back pressed to the marble wall, gun raised. I can barely see him, but I freeze when I realize he's only a few yards away from Sebastian, who is still reloading.

Sebastian is going to get shot!

My heart pounds wildly as I slowly turn my gun to the man's direction, but I can't get it to train on him. He keeps moving closer and closer to Sebastian, but I can't scream without giving myself away. I jerk around, not knowing what to do, until I finally get the gun to focus on the man. My finger automatically moves to the trigger, and I hesitate for a moment, staring at the man, and then, finally, I fire.

A scream fills the air and the man stumbles back, but he doesn't fall. It takes me a minute to realize my shot hit his foot. I curse silently at my horrible aim, starting to stand up and run at him, but Sebastian has beaten me to it. Sebastian is on him in an instant, tackling the man, his arms holding him in a chokehold. The man struggles to get free, throwing Sebastian against the wall. Sebastian groans as the man elbows him in the face, and suddenly, to my absolute horror, the man pounces on Sebastian and wraps his hands around his neck.

I barely withhold a scream, running in their direction as Sebastian's eyes begin to bulge, but I can see I'm not fast enough.

"Shoot him!" Sebastian screams as he struggles to get free. At first I'm too stunned to do anything but watch Sebastian fight, watch the man suck the air out of him. "SHOOT HIM!" he screams even louder, and then, just like that, I snap back to my sense. I feel myself shaking, my hands a mess of trembles, but I pull the trigger without hesitation. The man cries out and falls back right before he has the chance to end Sebastian forever.

And then there is nothing but silence.

I force back a sob, trying to stay strong, trying not to think about how I just killed someone in cold blood. Slowly and numbly, I rise out of my hiding spot, every part of my body hurting.

Sebastian's eyes are filled with rage, but he doesn't look at me as I come up behind him. He just stares at the smoldering remains of the safe house, the dead bodies strewn across the floor, and the truck in the middle of the room. Everything is silent, so silent, and it hits me then how close I was to dying. These people came for us. These people found us, somehow. They want to kill us. To end us. To end me.

"Sebastian," I say, my voice shaking as I walk over to him, but he just keeps glaring at the man I shot, his face tight and full of fury. It's only then that I notice the man is still breathing, even though he's unconscious. Sebastian clenches the gun in his hand. His arm shakes a little, but he continues to look down at the man, the hate in his eyes as evident as ever.

"Stay back, angel," he says to me, hard and firm.

I shake my head. "Sebastian, what--"

He whips his head around to me, his eyes wild. "I said, stay back!"

My stomach hurts at the harshness of his words, but I obey, putting down my gun and feeling so, so out of place. This can't be real. None of this can be real. I don't even know what's going on, but I just shot a bunch of people and now I'm on the run for my life with the man who imprisoned me, and I have no idea how any of it happened. Smoke billows throughout the safe house, and it's clear we have to leave it, but for where, I don't know. I don't know how we're going to safe. We got lucky this time, but if they can find us once, they can find us again, and Sebastian may not be there to protect me that time.

"Sebastian, just leave him. He's unconscious. He isn't going to hurt us," I call, but Sebastian doesn't listen.

I watch as he leans over to the man, whose shirt is covered in crimson. Sebastian's face is as hard as a rock as he whispers something into the man's ear. And then, just like that, he presses his gun to the man's forehead, narrows his eyes, and fires.

That's when I notice the look in Sebastian's eyes again as he pulls the trigger, that sadistic little glint, like his whole face is lighting up, like murdering makes him happy. And as soon as I place it, I know I've made a serious, serious mistake.

It's the look of a killer.

Chapter Ten

Sebastian isn't telling me where we're going. He just drives me away as soon as we get out of the safe house, keeping his down, checking his rearview mirrors every few seconds. He doesn't speak a single word the whole time. I try to talk to him, to ask what happened in there, to ask where we're going, but he just ignores me, eyes trained on the road.

The warm morning sun quickly melts away as we drive, turning into dark skies and pouring rain. I watch the window, the rainwater slipping down the glass, and I feel myself wondering about my life--before all of this. I wonder whether meeting Sebastian has really been worth it. I mean, he makes feel like I matter, but look where that has gotten me now. I'm trapped with him. I'm his captive and I've fallen for him. I'm supposed to be his angel, the girl whose soul is pure and who has no flaws, but I don't feel very angelic. I feel much more like an idiot, really. I don't even know what I'm doing here. I just wanted something in my life, something good that couldn't be ripped away as quickly and as painfully as my parents and love of dance was, and I couldn't even get that without ending up hurt.

I look over at Sebastian, at his steely blue eyes trained on the road in front of him, at the tension in his hands as he clutches the wheel. His jaw is tight, and he looks like he's expecting someone to leap out and attack us at any moment.

"Where are we going, Sebastian?" I ask after a minute. I miss the feel of his touch already, the roughness of his skin on mine, his lips on mine.

He doesn't look at me. "We're going nowhere," he says. Then, under his breath, he repeats it: "nowhere."

I open my mouth to argue, but I no longer even have the energy to. So I just stare at him as the gray sky melts into nighttime, minutes into hours. Eventually, a shadow crosses his face, covering up the hard determination in his eyes. I listen to the sound of the road below us and the hum of the tires moving as we drive for hours and hours on end. As we move further away from the safe house, the streets start getting narrower and less like streets, mostly with cracked pavement and no cars driving in them. The only people using them wear dark baseball caps and smoke cigarettes. The houses in the neighborhood get older and more beat-up, and we start getting looks from idle neighbors as we drive deeper. I want to ask Sebastian where this place is, but I know he won't tell me. I sit there waiting, not knowing else to do, until we finally pull to a stop in front of an aging, peeling-blue-painted house at the end of the neighborhood.

Sebastian gets out immediately and slams the door behind him. I follow his lead. The air is cold out here, sending shivers up my spine, and the musty scent of smoke and rotted wood fills the air.

He doesn't look back at me as he walks right up into the house, kicks open the door, and steps inside. I quickly follow him, glancing one last time at the smoking men who are drifting closer and closer to me, and I slam the door behind me--just to be safe.

The house is cold and rickety and dark, with old pictures covering the walls and a wood floor torn up from age. Dust hangs in the air, making me cough as soon as I'm inside, and I follow Sebastian over to an old living room with a fading couch and broken rocking chair. He reaches into a box beside the chair and pulls something out--a key of some sort, it looks like. I watch him carefully as he turns back to me. His face is hard and emotionless, and something about him is serious, almost too serious.

"Sebastian," I ask. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer right away. Just closes the box, holds tight to the key, and then walks over to me. Finally, two words slip out of his mouth. "Saving you," Sebastian mutters under his breath. "I'm saving you, angel."

He brushes past me and makes his way to the kitchen, opening a rusted fridge and searching for something. His movements are urgent, determined. "What do you mean?" I ask, following him. I'm not going to back down. Not again.

Sebastian reaches for something in the refrigerator. "You know what I mean," he says, pulling out a plate of what looks like a sandwich. Then he washes his hands, slips the sandwich onto a fresh plate, adds some tomatoes to the side, and turns back around. For one long second, his eyes lock with mine. His are piercing and intense, hurt and angry and protective all at once, needing to keep me safe. I raise my chin, standing defiantly. "Tell me."

"You really want to know?" He takes a step toward me. His suit is tattered from the shooting, and it smells strongly of gunpowder.

"Yes."

"Well, here you have it: I'm done. Fucking done," he says under his breath, grabbing the food and key. "I'm not taking any risks on you. You're mine. You're mine and you aren't ever leaving my sight until I know for sure that you are safe."

He moves past me to the basement door, unlocks it with his key, then swings it open and motions for me to follow him. I hesitate, but obey.

Sebastian leads me down the creaking stairs to an old, cob-web-ridden basement. He turns on a dim light above me, illuminating the tiny space. There is nothing but a broken washing machine and a bed in the corner of the basement, and it looks like it's been abandoned for years. Sebastian reaches toward a box beside the washer, pulls out a blue blanket, and spreads it across the bed. Then he adds a pillow to the top and points at the edge.

"Sit," he says to me. I do.

He leans over me as I sit on the edge of the surprisingly soft bed, his cleanly-shaven face and jaw and perfectly kissable lips hovering right above mine. He's still wearing his business and black bowtie, and he looks all too perfect in it.

I can't help but notice the hardness beneath his torso, the way his thighs are pressed right above mine, and suddenly I want to be back to the night before. I want to feel him inside of me again, feel him own me. I want Sebastian, want him bad.

"Angel," he says after a minute, his voice hard and unwavering. "You know me. I'm not all about whips and chains. I don't want to feed off of your pain. I just want you. All of you. I want you everywhere, don't you see? I want to fuck you, to touch you, to own you. I don't give a shit about anything else but you and me. I'm going to do whatever it takes to save you, to keep you mine, because I care too much to see you get hurt, by Marco or otherwise. I'm trying to save you, I told you. I'm trying to keep them from getting to you." His eyes are a fierce blue, his jaw thick and tense. I can feel his passion in his every word, the lust and desire and… love?... that pours out of him. His voice gets fiercer as he continues. "But you almost died in there! You almost fucking died on me!" he says, raising his voice to a yell. "I've lost so many people. I've lost so many that I can't count them all, but I just know that I'm not losing anyone else. I'm not losing you, angel!" he shouts, eyes full of fire. "I'm not ever losing you. Let Marco and his team blow me to bits if that's what it means. But as long as I'm alive, I will never, ever let them, or anyone, touch you. Understand?"

The basement is silent as soon as he finishes speaking, his words an echo throughout the room, and I just swallow, staring back at him. I don't know what to say. My heart has started pounding. I'm not even going to lie: I feel scared. Terrified, really, by the intensity and determination in Sebastian's words. But a part of my heart aches, knows the pain he is going through and wants nothing more than to cure him. A part of me loves him despite his flaws, but knows I can't ever have him.

"I understand, Sebastian," I whisper, meaning it. Then, "I want you too."

Sebastian stands up, adjusts his suit. His jaw is still thick with tension, and his are narrowed, the anger not leaving from before. "But you can't have me. Because if I let you have me anymore than I already have, then that means there is no turning back for us. I already need you too much. It only makes things worse for you to need me back."

I look down at my feet. "Then it's already too late," I say quietly.

Sebastian freezes. His eyes turn back to me, still burning and passionate. "Don't say that," he hisses. "Don’t fucking say that! It's not too late. I can't save you if you need me like I need you, and I am going to save you. No matter what. Okay?" he says fiercely.

My heart thrums in my chest. Heat pulses between us and I can feel the tension in the air, the fire in each of his words and his breaths and his closeness to me. Everything about Sebastian sends tingles throughout my body, but he also scares me, unnerves me, thrills me. "Okay," I say.

Sebastian doesn't back down. "Okay, what?" he demands.

"Okay," I say quietly. "Okay, I won't fall for you."

He nods sadly then, and the ferocity in him is gone. He reaches out and hands me the sandwich he made. "Take this." Then he leaves a glass of water by the bed. "In case you get thirsty," he says.

For a second, I'm too stunned to realize what he's doing. But he is already turning around, walking across the basement and up the stairs, before I have time to stop him.

I open my mouth to say something, but he beats me to it.

"I'll get you in the morning," he calls after me. "Eat if you have to. And please… just know that I have to do this." Then I hear the click of a knob, the opening of a door, and then it slamming shut. "Night, angel," Sebastian says.

And then, just like that, I hear nothing at all.

I whip my head around, feeling my heart pound. I start to race up the stairs after him, calling "Sebastian, what are you--" but he's already gone.

I reach the door in the darkness of the basement and start to push it open, but the knob doesn't budge. It's locked. I start shouting, pounding on the door for the second time this week, screaming for Sebastian, begging for him to release me, but no one answers me.

No one, but the darkness.

Chapter Eleven

Sebastian comes down to the basement first thing in the morning. I slept surprisingly well last night in the warm blanket and sheets he left out for me, and as much as I hate him for locking me up in here like this, I can't help but understand his reasons. He just wants to protect me. He just wants to save me.

He's like me in that way: at the end of it all, he doesn't want to lose anyone else.

While I sleep, I feel my thoughts drifting off, thinking about what Sebastian told me he was: a hitman. He kills for a living. He fucking murders people every single day. It hurts, to imagine that my Sebastian, that the man I'm falling for has blood on his hands--literally and figuratively. It hurts to imagine that he has such a big heart when it comes to me, but such a small one when it comes to his victims, or whoever it is he kills. I want to ask him about it. I want to know who he killed for this cartel that's after us, and why they made him kill the people. I need all of the gory details if I'm going to get over it. I trust Sebastian despite myself, and I know, deep down, that he wasn't lying when he said he hated himself for what he did--and that he didn't have a choice.

Sebastian is a good man, I tell myself.

I don't think it's a lie.

Next, I find myself wondering about the scar on his cheek, the one he refuses to tell me about, and I think about why he doesn't want to talk about why Marco and the rest of the cartel are after him.

I close my eyes. He's hiding things from me, still. Even after everything, he still doesn't trust me. And I don't know why, but I want him to. So, so badly.

I'm still caught up in the thought when Sebastian comes down. There's a click at the top of the stairs, the creak of a door being opened, and then the sound of footsteps heading toward the bottom floor. I watch as Sebastian's silhouette comes into view, lean and muscular, walking slowly toward me. The room is still dark as he makes his way over to me. When he reaches me, he stops, and I can see the familiar flash of blue in his eyes as he stares at me, focusing on my arm. Then, he reaches out and touches my hand, trailing his finger along it slowly, calmly, sending an array of shivers through me. I watch with fascination as his dark fingers touch my pale skin, and I keep my gaze locked on his even though he isn't looking back, listen to the pounding in my heart and the ache in my body as he slowly lifts up my arm and then, before I know what's happening, touches his lips to my bicep. He kisses me gently at first, like kissing me is an art and he has mastered it. He moves his lips along my arm, his kiss all hot and fiery, and I just stand there, unable to move or breathe as he seemingly brings life to my skin. Tingles shoot through me, and the familiar need for him to kiss me elsewhere returns. His lips have that effect on me; they wipe everything else away. Sebastian's kiss is dangerous but so, so right.

"I need to bring you upstairs, angel," Sebastian says roughly, pulling back away from my arm. His gaze is fixated on my breast for a little too long, like he's hesitating, wishing he could kiss me there.

I open my mouth to say something, but his hand is already around mine and I feel myself getting pulled up to my feet. Sebastian leads me across the basement and up the stairs before we can do anything more. As soon as we step through the door and into the kitchen, the light from the house blinds me, and I have to cover my eyes with my hands as Sebastian brings me over to the nearest table.

I can see Sebastian clearly now, though. He's wearing a new, clean suit and black bowtie as he always is--I have no idea where he gets them--and his dark hair is wet and wild. His tan looks even sharper today, standing out among those deep, clear blue eyes of his, and for the billionth time, I'm struck by how incredibly good-looking he is.

"What is your plan?" I ask Sebastian as he makes his way over to the stove, but he ignores my question. Instead, he pulls out a plate and flips over the pan so that the eggs he has been cooking slips onto it, and then he adds bits of pepper, sprinkles some shredded cheese on the top, and slides the plate over to me.

"Here's your breakfast," he says. I have to admit, it smells delicious. I grab a fork and start eating right away.

Sebastian sits on the chair beside me, but he doesn't eat anything. I ignore him at first, trying to hate him for what he did to me. His eyes are locked on the open window in front of us, with that distant glaze to them, like he's back as a teenager, growing up under Jodie's care. He's had a traumatic life, I realize, and not once does he complain. He keeps it in, like a festering wound, and all I want to do is make it better.

After a few minutes, Sebastian turns to me. His eyes are hard and serious, his mouth a flat line. "Do you miss how things were?" he asks after a minute, his voice cool, but also a little wistful. "Do you miss before?"

I put my fork down. "Before?"

"Yes." His stare is unflinching. "When it was just the two of us in Hotel de Galaxias."

I think for a moment, staring at his scruff, then the faded dimples on the corners of his mouth, and I sigh. "Yes," I admit. "Sometimes I miss it."

Sebastian doesn't say anything for a minute. He just keeps watching me, as if he's testing me. "Do you resent me?" he says quietly. "Do you resent me for what I did? For what I… for what I did to you and, for what I did a living?" His voice is as easygoing as it was before, but there's a certain intensity to it, like his question is deeper than just that.

I hesitate. What am I supposed to say? I want to hate him, I really do. In fact, I wish I could hate him. But I can't deny what he means to me, and as I feel his gaze on my body, I decide just to tell the truth. "No," I say, pushing aside my food. "I don't resent you."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, seemingly surprised for a second, but it's gone almost immediately. Then he nods. "Good," he says, more to himself than me.

I lean forward, looking into his deep, tortured eyes. Curiosity trickles in. "Just good?" I ask.

Sebastian continues to stare at me. "I told you, I'm a bad man. I'm going to do something to make you resent me sooner or later, no matter how hard I try. It's just who I am. What I am. So I'm trying to come to terms with it. I don't want to lose you, angel," he says, his voice growing more intense. "I don't want to lose anyone else."

"You won't lose me, Sebastian. You won't ever."

"You don't understand," he growls.

I keep my gaze on him. "Then make me understand, Sebastian," I say quietly.

He shakes his head. "It will only hurt you, angel. And I don't want you to be hurt."

I move my chair closer to him. "Then at least tell me about the jobs you did. I want to know. I deserve to know."

Sebastian's eyes burn into mine. Shivers race through me as he leans in closer to me, his lips and shaven jaw and haunting blue eyes lingering in front of my face. "Tell me something about yourself first," he whispers. "Tell me the things we promised never to tell."

My heart starts racing. "You mean, break rule number two?" Sebastian is not one for breaking rules, that much I know.

His jaw clenches. "Yes. I want to know you, angel. I want to know the real you. And I want to know all of you." His voice is rough as he leans over me, breathing onto my lips, and whispers, "You're my captive, don't forget that. I want to make you mine, and I can't have you unless you tell me who you are."

I perk up. "You mean, you aren't afraid of… ruining me by loving me anymore?"

I feel the thin fibers of his suit brushing against my skin as he brings his lips back onto my neck, kissing me slowly. "Angel, I'm not going to corrupt you. I'm going to own you, to love you, to save you from those men. I'm going to keep you my prisoner. But when the time comes, when things are safe, I'm going to let you go, and you'll leave my life like everyone else has. And you'll live your life like it never happened. Okay? If I thought loving you would hurt you, I wouldn't let myself do it. I need you. I need you to be safe. But I want you too bad to keep from having you." His eyes are so intense, his jaw getting tighter by the second. He trails his kisses down my neck, lingering at my collarbone, teasing me as he inches down lower, and a moan escapes from my lips. "Are you ready to be mine?"

I hesitate for a second and try to think, but it proves difficult as Sebastian continues to kiss me along the neck, reaching out a hand and slipping his fingers under my shirt, where they circle around by my bra, slow and teasing. Every part of my mind wants to say no to Sebastian, wants to tell him that keeping me prisoner like this makes him the epitome of an asshole and, not to mention, that it's illegal, but my heart, or at least what is left of my heart, the ones longing to let someone else in, someone to heal the pain, screams yes. I try to stop myself from answering at all, but my heart wins this round. The word just slips out of my mouth: "Yes."

Yes.

It's hollow, reverberating throughout the walls, but it feels so, so right.

Yes, I want to be yours.

Sebastian smiles, a fleeting, beautiful kind smile, exposing his perfect white teeth. "Good, angel. Now tell me about you. The real you. I want to know." He stops kissing me for a second and lifts me slowly into his lap, resting his head on my shoulders, and then he moves his lips back across my body, tickling his lips and tongue at my ear, then along my collarbone. He stops at the space above my breast, kissing me slowly around it, sending tremors throughout my body. His lips are warm against my skin, so warm and sexy and perfect. I am acutely aware of the familiar hardness from his erection pressing against my body, and it makes my heart race faster. My skin tingles.

"Okay," I say quietly, barely able to escape the tingles rippling through me long enough to speak. "What do you want to know?"

Sebastian slips his hand deeper into my bra, kissing around it. I feel his fingers working to undo it, feel the warmth in his mouth as he draws closer and closer toward me. My nipples harden, and I want him to suck them so badly I can't even explain. "I want to know everything, angel."

I take a breath. It occurs to me then that my life has not really been all that interesting. It's like I've been consumed by own loneliness, like I haven't ever really lived. So I start with the basics: the one time I ever actually felt alive. "I always loved to dance," I say, and Sebastian pauses kissing me, looking up and watching me with those deep and mysterious blue eyes of his. "Ever since I was kid, it was my life. It was more than just a passion, though. It was something I ate, slept, breathed. Dance and I were inseparable in a way nothing else could be. My parents… they never understood it. They were always out of town--sports agents, go figure--but they still supported me. They still loved me when they were at home, and so I was okay. Through my teen years I stayed home alone when my parents went on tons of business trips to places across the country or the globe, usually for days at a time, and I'd just go to school, make myself dinner, and whenever I had free time, I'd spend it dancing. It was nice, to dance like that. Never perfect, but nice. Especially on those days my parents came home, and they talked to me and we played board games or whatever and just… were a real family, you know? I liked when things were simple. I went to college and dropped out after two years and even though they didn't like it, they still supported me on that too. I don't know why I dropped out, if you're wondering," I add. Sebastian's breath is on my lips now. He keeps inching forward, looking at my lips with such hunger. Each time I inhale I can imagine myself kissing him again, letting him inside of me. I need him. I need him bad. "I just wasn't happy, I guess. So I left. Anyway, I never really had any friends. Dance was my only real friend, and so I let it be that way. And that was all okay, even though I was a little depressed, because at least I had my parents in my life. But then they were… killed." I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory, feeling the familiar hurt trickle in. "And everything changed."

I go on telling him the rest of my tale of woe, filling in some of the details he already knows. I talk about how there was a robbery and my parents were killed, how the depression came in soon after and I attempted to end it all, even though it only resulted in me breaking my leg and losing my one true love forever. I talk about how lonely I've been these last few years, how, when I jumped off of that roof, not only my leg shattered, but my heart did as well, and it has yet to recover. I talk about how my soul was still broken until I met him, how he's the one putting the pieces of myself back together. And weirdly enough, it feels good to talk it all out. It feels good to be free again--free from the lies. "So that's it," I say quietly as soon as I've told my story. "That's me."

Sebastian doesn't respond for a long time. He keeps tracing his finger around my breasts, making my nipples harder and harder by the second, causing the familiar ache to build up deep inside of me. I want him more and more with each passing second. I want his perfectly dark sex hair, his gorgeous dimples, his tanned muscular body, and his deep blue eyes. I want his dark suits and his gentle kisses. I want the way he makes me feel. I'm Sebastian's captive, and yet, I find myself wanting him. All of him.

"Angel," Sebastian says at last, his voice surprisingly quiet. "You're amazing. You know that, right? But you're wrong. You're so, so wrong. Because you're not broken, not to me. You're beautiful. You're interesting. You have character and imperfections and so many things to love. I need you, angel. I need you how you are."

All air is sucked out of the room then, and the only sound that remains as Sebastian finishes talking is the pounding of blood in my ears. The space between Sebastian and I keeps diminishing, and soon there is nothing left, nothing but our heavy, hot breaths, the closeness of his face to mine, and the tension in the air, thick and crackling. Sebastian moves his finger to unhook my bra, tracing his fingers around my hardened nipple and causing me to gasp. Every part of me wants him as he lets my bra fall to the ground. And then, silently, he pulls my shirt over my head, so that I'm sitting in his lap, naked from the top up. I don't know how to react as he reaches out and kisses me, rough and heavy, his lips melting through mine. Kissing Sebastian sends waves of tremors through me, and feeling him against me, feeling his perfectly muscled body so close to mine, makes my skin hot and tingly.

"Tell me who are you are, Sebastian. I need to know," I whisper as he holds my half-naked body against him, fingers tracing up and down my stomach. His arms are around my bare breasts now, and I have to struggle to keep breathing, to focus on him, to make him tell me who he is before I go crazy with need, because the desire is pouring in. And fast.

Sebastian pauses. His finger moves up from my belly button to the edge of my breast, and suddenly it's right beside my nipple again, sending shivers throughout my body. "If I tell you, I can't take it back," he says quietly. "Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"Yes. Please, Sebastian. You can trust me."

Sebastian is looking out the window still. His eyes are distant, his face as tight as ever. "You're my prisoner, angel," he hisses. "Don't forget it."

"I won't. Just tell me." I gasp as his finger slips down from my breast, past my belly button, and slows, moving gently back and forth, along the soft skin between my legs. My neck falls back and all I want is for him to slip it inside of me, for him to make all of the pain go away, but he doesn't. He just keeps running his finger along my skin, tracing it right there, so close.

"I got the job offer when I was eighteen," Sebastian says at last. His voice is heavy and sharp, but sad too. He doesn't meet my gaze. "I never planned to take it. I just, I knew I needed money, and with my reputation for fighting, my nonexistent education history, and my family history, no one would hire me. The only jobs I could get wouldn't pay for shit. I didn't know what to do. But I told you, I was angry back then. I've always been angry, I guess. Angry at the world for doing this to me, angry at my dad for ruining my life, angry at myself for leaving everything behind again and again. These were during my last few weeks with Jodie, and I'd pretty much figured I was going to leave her again too, if I wanted to get a job. But I wasn't ever planning on doing… what I do… until one morning, when I got in a fight with a guy who was smuggling drugs outside of her house. I was angry and I saw him doing something illegal right outside the house of the one person I had left, so I just snapped. I… I almost killed him." Sebastian's eyes are fiery now, bloodshot and angry. I can't help but notice the whiteness in his knuckles, the hurt in his eyes, the intensity rushing off of him. He's broken, I can see that much. Shattered. Trying to find a way to make it all work. "I was just so angry. I beat him and beat him. And I guess Marco and his gang saw my fight, probably because they were the one who sold the drugs in the first place, and when his men started to pull guns on me, Marco held them back. He grabbed my chin with his hands and pulled me up, and I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me. I thought this was the end. And something about that was also kind of relieving, in its own twisted way. I just wanted him to do it already. To put me out of my misery. But instead, his face broke out into a smile, and he turned back to his men and said, 'This one has potential' and then they all brought me back to their headquarters where Marco offered me a job. To kill people, he said. To kill for them. And I was stupid then. I knew Jodie was getting old and frail and forgetful, and I knew I needed the money to get her care as much as I needed it for myself. I was so desperate back then, and Marco promised me the job would be rewarding, would help get rid of my anger, and when he showed me the money he'd give me for my first job, I just didn't have any other choice." Sebastian takes in a deep breath. Finally, he turns to me, his eyes more intense than I've ever seen them before. "I took it, angel. I fucking took it. And now, five years later, look where I am. It's been two years since I've betrayed him, and he is still after me."

My heart is beating faster and faster with each word he speaks. I realize I should be scared of Sebastian. I should be terrified, actually. I know the look I saw yesterday, when he killed that man. I know the little gleam was the look of a killer. But something about him is so hard to hate, so hard to be afraid of. Something about him just draws me in, and as dangerous as my attraction to him is, I'd rather have it no other way. Sebastian is thrilling, unpredictable. He's breathed so much energy and excitement and emotion into my life these past four months, something that the previous twenty-two years have totally lacked in. Being with Sebastian means living, really living, and it's the most exhilarating feeling in the world.

"Tell me about the jobs you did," I whisper. He opens his mouth to tell me no almost immediately, but I cut him off. "Tell me, Sebastian. I need to know who you are."

This sets him off. Before I know what's happening, he lifts his hand up from tickling at the soft skin of my thighs and latches it onto my arm in one, quick instant. His grip is hard and crushing, and his eyes train on me, so intense it looks like he's going to snap. "You know who I am, angel," he growls. Cool air whips in through the window in that instant, sending a shiver down my spine, but with Sebastian holding me like this, my heart just keeps pounding. Mostly out of fear, but a sick, twisted part of me also feels too turned on. A part of me loves being his prisoner. "You know me. Don't you fucking think otherwise." His grip is crushing, tightening around my wrist, but it doesn't even hurt. Sebastian's made sure it doesn't hurt. He cares too much to hurt me, I realize.

My head has already started throbbing, and the heat from Sebastian's body surges around me, like electricity in the air. I shift back in his lap, feeling suddenly so exposed without a shirt or bra on. "But--" I start to protest.

His turn to cut me off. "Stop it," he roars. "Just stop it!" His grip is still tight around my arm, and I feel my body starts to shake, feel the familiar fear creep in. I stare into those tortured blue eyes of his, searching to find the Sebastian I love amid the bundle of anger. To find him, and then help heal him.

"That's not fair," I whisper after a minute, my blood pounding in my ear. "How can I trust you if you can't trust me?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I expect him to explode at me some more. In fact, I brace myself for the inevitable anger, but nothing comes. Instead, Sebastian stiffens. Releases his grip on my hand. I freeze, but the intensity in his gaze doesn't seem to want to leave. "You get one question, angel," he says in a low voice. "One. Make it specific. And then when we're done, we're going to fuck. Okay? I need you. I need you everywhere and I need you fucking now."

I nod, wanting it so, so bad, and he reaches out a hand, stroking my dark hair all the way down to my breast. More tingles race through me, faster this time, because just the idea of having Sebastian inside of me again is almost too much to bear. "Okay," I whisper. I start to ask him about how many people he's killed, or why Marco wanted them dead, or anything sensible. But then my eyes lock on the scar on his jaw, the little slit where the skin never healed correctly. It looks like a knife wound, and I remember how defensive Sebastian got last time I brought it up. I know I need to know where it came from. I want to know. So I say, eyes locked on his, "Tell me one thing about that scar on your jaw."

Sebastian looks ready to protest as soon as the words leave my mouth, but he doesn't. Doesn't move. Just stares at me, hard and strong, searching my eyes for some kind of sign, like he's debating whether it's right to tell me or not. It occurs to me then how many secrets Sebastian must be keeping from me, how, even after everything, I still don't really know who he is.

Finally, Sebastian looks away, steely-eyed and staring out the window. I watch him intently, watch his every shift of his jaw, looking to figure out what it was that made the Sebastian who can't be scared so unnerved. "All I'll say," he says, his voice both quiet and intense at the same time. My heart races in my chest. "All I'll say is that it wasn't Marco who gave me the scar."

This catches me by surprise.

It wasn't Marco.

The scar wasn't from Marco.

Does that mean there are more people after him? Does that mean he's done more bad things than just what he told me? Does that mean--

But before I have time to ask any questions, Sebastian's fiery gaze is trained on me again, and the need pours off of him like steam after a shower. "Now fuck me, angel," he growls. Just his words make my legs squirm. I try to keep focused on interrogating him, but the desire wins over all too easily. "Fuck me. Let me make you mine."

I nod vigorously, letting all else slip away. I need to be healed, and so does he. And whenever we need to feel better, whenever we need everything else to go away, we always turn to each other. Our bodies are always the answer. Our bodies are the only things that know how to put the broken pieces of ourselves back together.

I reach out and press myself against Sebastian, working to undo his tie, then his suit, and then the shirt beneath it. I work quickly, pulling his shirt over his head, as he starts slipping off my pants with those delicate fingers of his. Soon my breasts are pressed up against his rock hard and shirtless body, and I feel his erection tickling at my thighs as I work to slip off of his pants. They come off slowly, and the next thing I know, he's in his underwear and I'm in my panties, sitting in his lap, pressed against him. Sebastian's body is hot and sweaty, so muscular that it sends tremors throughout my body, and every part of me just wants to lick the sweat off of him, so much that I do. I press my lips to his chest, kissing him first, then letting my tongue slip and drag it across his chest, tasting him, loving him.

Sebastian's erection gets harder and harder, and it feels like I'm burning up this close to him. As I kiss him, Sebastian leans back, trying to suppress a moan, slipping a finger back down my body, along my stomach and slowing at the sensitive skin at my thighs. Gently, he starts moving his finger back and forth. I squirm but keep kissing him, feeling the pressure building up inside of me, the need for him to slip inside of me becoming almost too much. I trail my kisses down his stomach, along those perfect abs of his, and I decide to tease him in return by stopping at the skin right above his cock, kissing slowly, teasingly, and I feel it stand up even straighter, pressing against my thighs. I let out a moan this time, wanting him so much, and suddenly, his grip tightens around me. He lifts me out of the chair and sets my body out on the kitchen table, standing above me, my body sprawled across the cool tile table.

He crawls on above me, leaning his body over mine, dragging his fingers across my stomach as he reaches for my panties. I lean my head back and moan. My eyes stay focused on the ceiling as he expertly slips off my panties. The tension in my body builds up and builds up, and Sebastian slowly drags his finger across my hot, tingly skin as he reaches out and takes off his boxers, then slips on what looks to be a condom.

Then, just like that, he's back on top of me, stark naked, his cock pressing hard and strong against my thighs. I lean my head back, wanting nothing more than for him to take me. All of the air in the room has completely disappeared, sucked out of me, just like that. There is nothing but the heat between us, the intensity in my body as Sebastian leans above me on the kitchen table and kisses me, hot and passionate, making my lips burn with desire. I kiss him like I need him to breathe. I kiss him like if I stop kissing him, the world will end. I kiss him because kissing him lets everything else melt away, sends wave after wave of tingles throughout my body.

After a minute, Sebastian pulls back. My breathing is heavy and fast, and I feel Sebastian's hot breath above me as he leans forward and trails his kisses down to my breast, lingering there, making sure I feel everything. And then, slowly, he makes his way down to my stomach, stopping on my sensitive skin. I still feel the hardness of erection pressed against my body, making me squirm even more. The tension keeps building up and building up inside of me, sending tremors throughout my body. Sebastian pauses then, kisses me softer, slowly, nipping at my pale skin and causing me to moan. I can almost sense his smile. He's fully aware of how much this hurts me, how much my body needs him, wants him inside of me. He's teasing me, and he knows it.

"Do it, Sebastian," I whisper, closing my eyes, my head falling back. Every part of me wants him in that instant. Every parts of me needs him inside of me. "Take me," I whisper, and then, he does. His cock goes inside of me slowly, teasingly, and then he's there. The ache in my body explodes as the orgasm whips through me. My eyes roll back in my head and I gasp, letting Sebastian inside of me, letting him own me, until everything else feels okay.

"Do you feel that, angel? Do you feel me?" Sebastian growls through his groans, wrapping his arms around my naked body and kissing me as he goes in deeper.

"Yes," I gasp out.

"And do you want more?" He keeps moving around inside of me, driving deeper, and I just can't stop moaning.

"Please," I pant out. "I want to feel everything."

Sebastian smiles and presses himself against me, his naked body beside mine, his lips on my lips before I even know what's happening. "Here I am, angel," he whispers. "Here I am."

Chapter Twelve

Once we're finished, which is a while, Sebastian goes up to take a shower. I should probably join him too based on how hot my body feels from the sex, but I don't have the energy. I just lie on the couch, breathing heavily as I look up at the ceiling, smiling to myself. I keep replaying what just happened again and again in my head, thinking about the pure bliss Sebastian gave me that no one else has been able to. Kissing Sebastian makes everything better, heals the emptiness I've felt for so long. It's nice to have him, to have someone I can trust, to have someone to care about and feel safe with. Sebastian has made my life so much better, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. And for the first time since my parents died, I feel like I'm going to be okay. Like as his prisoner, his angel--with him protecting me--nothing can go wrong.

Eventually, my mind drifts back to the scar on his jaw, the one he told me wasn't from Marco. I can't help but wonder where he got it from, and why. Did he betray someone else? Has he done more than just work for Marco? And why exactly is Marco after him, anyway, and more importantly, why is he after me too? I squeeze my eyes shut. There's so much I don't know. As much as I want to trust Sebastian, I don't know if I can. He isn't stable, that's for sure. He's bad. He's dangerous. He's corrupting me. And yet, I… kind of like it.

I sit up, pad over to the refrigerator, and pour myself a glass of milk. The shower has stopped running, and I assume Sebastian will be down here any minute now, preferably without any clothing on. I take a sip of my milk, letting the cool liquid sneak down my throat, closing my eyes and sighing. Birds chirp outside and the sun has started to come out, and all in all, the day is nice. Peaceful. Quiet. I find myself wondering if I'm ever going to get out of here, if Sebastian is ever going to let me into the real world again, if he's ever going to trust that Marco won't find me. All of the doors in the house are locked--I've already tried them--and the only way out is to break through the window, which Sebastian knows I don't have the energy to do. And anyway, I'm not sure I want to leave, because trying to escape means leaving Sebastian, and I'm not leaving anyone else in my life. Especially him.

So I just sit there and think, letting my mind drift back to the happy times before all of this happened, when my mom and dad were still alive and my dance career was still the fuel for my life. When I would smile, really smile, and not even care.

I get so lost in my memories that I don't even hear Sebastian come down. Or hear the rumble of a truck driving down the road.

Which is weird.

Because this is the first truck that has driven this far down the road since… ever.

"Angel." Sebastian voice is urgent but slow, like he's trying to keep calm. I'm still smiling from my thoughts when I turn to him, fully prepared to go up and wrap my arms around him and kiss whatever nerves out of him, when I see the look in his eyes. The fire. The… fear? And I find myself tensing up too. "We have to go," he says to me, dressed in his usual business suit, his hair still soaking wet from the shower. He glances back outside the window, at the sound of the truck approaching, and then stares back at me. "Now."

I don't even bother to argue. I adjust my shirt and fast-walk after him as he unlocks the back door and leads me out. The sound of the truck gets closer and closer, and Sebastian grabs my arm as soon as I step into the garage, pulling me close. "Don't try anything," he whispers. "Stay with me. I'll save you."

I nod. "Okay." But he doesn't seem to trust me enough to let his grip go. He walks quickly throughout the dark garage, not daring to turn the light on, eyes searching for something I do not know. Then, he seems to find it, because his pace slows.

"This is one of my safe houses," he says, stopping in front of a car and pulling out a key. He unlocks the side door and hurries me inside. "I have lots of them. And in all of them, I always keep a backup car. Just in case."

The truck slows in front of the house as Sebastian closes the door behind me, then gets into the driver seat. The whole garage is dark, and my heart starts pounding as the men approach. Last time, we barely escaped with our lives. I can't imagine what's going to happen this time.

Sebastian reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. It takes me a minute to realize it's a handcuff. "What are you doing?" I hiss, eyes widening. I try to protest, to throw him off as he clamps his hand on mine and attaches one side of the cuff around my right hand, then the other to the car door, but he's too strong. I can't do anything but let him. My head aches some more and I desperately try to pull out of the handcuffs, to rip my way free, but they won't budge. Sebastian watches me sadly as he puts the key into the ignition. "I'm sorry," he says. "But I have to do this. I have to keep you safe. I won't let them hurt you, angel, and I can't risk you getting away."

The sound of car doors slamming from somewhere outside fills the air, and Sebastian's eyes become vicious, his voice urgent. "Are you ready?" he says to me, turning his key. My heart rate picks up, and I try to jerk out of the handcuffs again, but they're too tight. There's no escape. I take in a deep breath, my body shaking.

"Sebastian, please, let me out," I protest, biting back the tears. "Please just--" But before I know what's happening, Sebastian slams on the accelerator, and we're propelled backwards out of the garage, shattering through the white wood of the door, and into the blinding sunlight of the day. Shouts erupt from the front of the house as soon as we speed out, and I hear the sounds of guns loading, the rush of Marco's men hurrying to the garage. I keep jerking around in my seat, trying to break free, but nothing works. A sob racks through me as I hear their guns loading, hear them reach the driveway as we burst out onto the street. I just keep staring at Sebastian's face, at the hard determination in his eyes, and I feel my heart pound and for the second time in the last two days, I think I'm about to die. I think this is it. This is the end of me.

And right before the guns go off, right as Sebastian pulls onto the street and guns for it, I swear I hear him say the words, ever so softly, "I'm sorry."

But I can't be sure.

The only thing I'm sure of in that moment is that something very, very bad is about to go down.

The rest happens in slow motion.

One moment we're driving and I tear my gaze back towards the ten-ish men crouched by the shattered garage, guns trained on us, and the next thing I know several earsplitting cracks fill the air.

It's the worst sound in the world.

I duck down desperately, covering my head with my hands, as the bullets collide with the car, windows shattering everywhere. I scream and scream and glance back at Sebastian, but none of us seem hurt.

"Get down, angel!" he shouts at me as another round of fire goes off, connecting with the sides of the car. Sebastian hits the gas harder, sending us speeding to the end of the street. The sounds of cars starting behind us fill the air. Sebastian jerks the car to the right, turning onto a smaller street, and several black trucks speed after us. My head keeps pounding, my vision zooming in and out, and I glance wildly around the car, my body now covered in millions of pieces of glass. I feel blood trickling from my arm, and I look down and see a shard of glass lodged there. I scream, knowing I need to get out of the car. I jerk at the handcuffs again, but they don’t budge.

Oh god.

Oh god I'm going to freaking die.

"Let me out, Sebastian!" I scream as another bullet hits the back of our car, shattering through the glass and causing us both to duck. "Please let me out of here!"

Sebastian speeds faster down the road, eyes hard, knuckles clenched on the steering wheel, but he doesn't so much as meet my gaze. "I can't do that, angel," he says in a low voice.

Another quick turn. The car jerks to the side, throwing me back against the seat, and then Sebastian hits the gas and we're speeding again, shooting down the road. The sound of the cars behind us keeps getting louder and louder, and more gunshots break out, narrowly missing my head. One bullet even hits the windshield, creating a spider web of cracks throughout it and making my heart race furiously in my chest. I spin around to check our progress and instead see that the trucks are even closer now, the squeal of their tires getting louder and louder.

They're too fast.

"They're gaining on us!" I scream. "Oh fuck, they're gaining us!" My voice cracks and I feel a sob rack through me. This is it, I tell myself. This is how I'm going to die.

Everything trembles. Hurts. Burns. I don't want to die like this. I don’t want to die and not even know why.

Sebastian jerks his gaze to mine for one long moment, and his nostrils flare, eyes burning into mine. "Stop that, angel. I won't let them touch you," he hisses. He speeds down the street, careening past a couple walking their dog on the sidewalk. I see the tension in his forehead, the crease above his eyebrows, as he steps harder and harder on the ignition, jerking onto street after street, but the men are too fast. The three trucks are gaining on us, and quickly. First they're one-hundred feet away. Then seventy. Then fifty. Then thirty.

More gunshots rip from their car, shattering another one of our windows, and I duck, tears rolling down my cheeks, feeling another piece of glass lodge into my arm. More blood trickles out and I look around wildly, trying to figure out how to escape. I pull on the handcuff one last time, but nothing gives.

I'm trapped here.

I'm trapped here and I'm going to die.

"Sebastian!" I scream. "Please, just let me go!"

"If I let you go, they'll find you," he says roughly, eyes trained on the road as he takes another sharp turn, narrowly missing a car driving the other way.

Another shot sounds, and this time it connects with the headrest right above Sebastian's head. He curses and ducks, still trying to speed up, but it's no use. We're outgunned, outnumbered, and not going fast enough. The realization makes my heart plummet.

Then, Sebastian pulls something from the seat beneath him and tosses it to me. It takes me a minute to realize it's gun. "Use this," he growls. I hesitate as soon as I catch it, so he adds, "Fucking now."

Another sharp turn. Another slam on the gas. The car is officially travelling at its maximum speed, but nothing is working. The men are still gaining on us. So I reach for the gun, flip off the safety, and cock it like Sebastian taught me to do, aiming at the broken window in the back of the car where I have a clear shot at the first truck. Then, I narrow my eyes, and I fire.

Everything slows for a second. It's like the whole world is in a slow-mo cam, and I just watch the bullet fly through the air, spiraling toward the first truck's windshield. I hold my breath, ducking down as someone fires in return, but then a scream pierces through the air and the first truck veers off the road.

Just like that, everything is fast again.

Sebastian turns another corner onto a totally deserted road, eyes darting between the space in front of him and his rearview mirror. "One down. Two to go," he says quietly.

As if on cue, another bullet fires at us, this time hitting the windshield and totally cracking it. More glass shatters, shooting every which way, covering me and Sebastian.

I turn back around, reloading my gun. My heart keeps hammering. The other trucks are still gaining on us. Twenty feet now. Nineteen. Eighteen.

Not much time left.

I try to shoot at the next truck, but my hand don't stop shaking and I keep thinking about how this might be the end, how Sebastian might leave my life forever, how I might leave my life forever. Everything aches, and I just can't focus anymore. My shot misses the truck by several feet, and I drop the gun, because it hurts my hand, and I feel myself crying again.

Fifteen feet.

"It's over, Sebastian," I say, shaking, the handcuff biting at the skin on my right hand. "It's fucking over. We're going to die. Oh god we're going to die and that will be the end of everything."

Sebastian jerks the steering wheel to the left, and the car skids across the street, knocking over a mailbox on its way, but we're still going, gunning down another empty street. Another round of gunshots bursts through the car. I keep my head down and so does Sebastian, but the bullets are getting closer and closer, shattering the glass right beside me.

Ten feet.

Sebastian's grip on the steering wheel is steely. His eyes are wild and filled with determination as he shoots down the street, his knuckles whitening with every passing second. "I'm going to save you, angel. I've always told you that. I'll die for you if I have to."

Five feet.

My heart is beating so loud that I can't hear anything anymore, just the roar of the engine and the ringing in my ears from the gunshots. I feel so desperate, so empty and useless, and I reach for the gun and try to fire at the truck again but I only manage to hit its roof. They are so close I could reach out and touch them, and no matter how hard Sebastian hits the ignition, they just keep gaining.

Two feet.

They're right there now. So close that I can taste the end. Every muscle in my body screams in protest, and I look at Sebastian one last time, look at the determination in his eyes, the hardness in his jaw, and I know how much I'm going to miss him, how much I love him despite everything.

"Goodbye, Sebastian," I whisper, just as their truck connects with ours. There's a squeal of tires, a scream, and then our car is jerked off the road, tumbling across someone's front lawn.

And then, there is nothing at all.

Chapter Thirteen

My eyes feel like lead as I force them open. My ears are ringing and every muscle in my body aches as I roll over. Blinding white light fills the air, forcing me to squeeze my eyes right back shut. I try to stand, but my legs refuse to hold my weight, so I continue to lie there, against a cool piece of metal, hurting all over. The blood in my head pounds and pounds, and I try to remember what happened, how much time has passed, or how the hell I even got here in the first place.

Smoke billows everywhere, causing me to cough and cough, burning at my face. I try to open my eyes again, and this time they adjust better, even if they still kind of hurt.

I look around wildly to figure out where I am. Scraps of metal are everywhere, tires smoking all around me. It looks like several cars were broken, like…

Then I remember what happened.

Sebastian.

Marco's men.

The truck.

The gunshots.

The scream.

Automatically, my body crumples up at the memory, and whether it's from thinking Sebastian's face before our car was uprooted or from the acrid smoke in my eyes, my eyes start burning with tears.

I force myself to stand, shaking off the pain.

It's sunny here, grassy too, and if it weren't for the smoke filling my lungs and nostrils, it would actually be a nice day. I stumble out of the wreckage, coughing repeatedly, trying to get my bearings, trying to find Sebastian. There are bodies strewn across the scraps of car metal, too, tons of them, all men with guns and angry looks in their eyes. I look around wildly, but none of them are Sebastian.

My heart aches. Where is he? Where is Sebastian? I stumble onto the empty street, trying to cry for help, but my coughing drowns it out. The cool air whips by me, and it would feel insanely good against my skin if I weren't so wound up. Desperately, I move in the direction of what appears to be a house, knowing based off of my growing headache, shirt covered in dried blood, and the way my vision keeps zooming in and out that I need food and water, and I need it badly. My throat is totally parched, and all of this feels so surreal, like I'm dreaming or something. I wish I were dreaming.

In fact, every part of me wants to rewind back to a few hours earlier, when Sebastian was touching me, when we were making love and everything was okay. I choke in another breath, and this time more tears are mixed with it. I sniff, continuing to stumble toward the house, not knowing what else to do.

The desperation has just about set in when I hear a sound from within the little shack I've been heading toward: a muffled grunt.

I freeze. My heart might literally stop.

Because I know that sound.

I know that voice.

It's Sebastian's.

Curiosity getting the best of me, I move in closer, more slowly this time, trying to keep from coughing. Why is Sebastian grunting? What if something is wrong?

My legs ache in protest as I draw near the little shack, but I ignore it, moving toward the door. I need Sebastian. I need to make sure he's okay. I need to--

My hand is at the doorknob when I hear a second voice. And I stop, because it's not a friendly voice, either. The sound is deep and guttural, filled with hatred. "Well, well," it's saying. "Is getting punched not enough for you? Because the boss will be here any minute now, and I hear he's bringing his knife with him, just for you." The man laughs, a vicious, sadistic kind of laugh that makes my blood chill.

"Go ahead, then," another voice snarls. My stomach seizes as soon as I recognize that it's Sebastian's, and based off of the fear gripping his voice, it could only mean one thing is going on: he's being tortured for information of some sort. And Marco must be coming soon to finish the job.

My stomach twists. I swear I'm going to be sick now. I look around wildly, suppressing another cough, trying to figure out what to do. I need to save Sebastian. But I already know I can't overpower this man myself, and my gun was probably destroyed in the crash. A sinking feeling hits me. How am I ever going to save him? Do I just make a break at the man and hope for the best?

I decide to see if there's a window in the room and figure out what's going on from there. Keeping as silent as possible, I slip alongside the shack. I find it on the other side of the building. It's a small window, covered in dirt, but if I squint hard enough, I can just make out what's going on inside the shack. My heart pounds and I hold my breath as I watch with baited breath.

The floorboard creaks within the room as the man, who looks to be about Sebastian's height and who has a deep tan and a bulky body, steps toward something. That's when I realize it's Sebastian, facing me, tied to a wooden chair and gagged. I have to cover my hands with my mouth to keep from gasping. Seeing Sebastian like this, this vulnerable, makes my heart physically hurt.

"Where are they?" the man is saying, taking a step toward Sebastian. "Where are they hiding? Tell me or you and the girl both die."

"Don't bring her into this," Sebastian hisses. I see his eyes then, as the other man shifts out of the way. They're filled with pure hatred. I've never seen him like this before.

The man laughs. "Sorry, I forgot how sensitive you get when you fall in love."

Sebastian narrows his eyes and spits on the man, who just laughs some more and punches Sebastian across the face like it's nothing. Sebastian grunts again and blood trickles out of his nose, and I have to clamp my mouth shut with my hand to keep from screaming. I know I have to do something, anything, but I don't know what.

"You aren't getting anything out of me," Sebastian hisses, spitting blood at the man. "You might as well give up now."

He laughs, his dark boots crunching against the wood floor as he walks slowly back and forth in front of Sebastian, dragging this whole interrogation out with some sort of sadistic pleasure. "You're right, I might as well. I would love to, actually. Nothing would please me more than to kill you right now. You are a fucking traitor. You left me, your own friend, in the dust when you didn't kill those people. You betrayed all of us. You deserve the worst of deaths. But the boss made me promise to keep you alive until he gets here. And hey," he says, grabbing Sebastian's collar and breathing into his face. "Orders are orders."

Then he throws Sebastian back against the chair and laughs. "I'll happily wait, Sebastian. Anything to see you die."

My heart is pounding furiously now. Just the thought of Sebastian dying makes my whole body ache. I'm just about ready to burst through the door and randomly attack this man torturing Sebastian, my Sebastian, when something insane happens. Sebastian looks up, up to the window, and his eyes lock with mine. My toes curl at the intensity in his stare even through the glass. He looks into my eyes, and then, just like that, he nods. It's slight and almost nonexistent, but I catch it immediately, and I translate it to: distract him.

So I do just that.

Slowly, I reach down and pull a rock from the ground. I roll it around in my hand for a second, feeling the coolness of it, the heaviness, and then I take a step back and aim it at the window. The man is back to talking to Sebastian now, saying something I can't make out, but I don't let him finish. Squeezing my eyes shut, I reach out and hurl the rock at the window. It shatters almost instantly, glass going flying everywhere, and I sprint at the front door while he's distracted.

"What the hell?" the man says, coming toward the window, I think. Then I hear a crack, a grunt, and the man shouts something. There's a crunch of wood as he's thrown to the ground, and the next thing I know, Sebastian is bursting out of the shack, his hands untied but his gag still on.

Relief washes through me as soon as I see his face, and I want nothing more than to kiss him then, just hold him and hug him and cry, because we've survived, at least for now. Sebastian rips the gag off of his mouth as he bursts outside. "We have to move, angel," he says immediately, getting right down to business. "Marco will be coming here any second now."

I nod and follow him down the road. "And the man in the shack?" I call after him.

Sebastian pauses. "Unconscious. Won't bother us again."

I open my mouth to ask another question, but he's already taking off down the road, off past the shack and the car wreckage, past the calling of birds in the maples trees beside us, down the totally empty dirt road until we reach civilization. My legs burn as I run, and my muscles feel so sore from the crash, but I just keep pushing, following Sebastian. We run for several minutes until we make our way back onto the main road, periodically checking to make sure we aren't being followed--we weren't. My lungs are heaving and I gasp for air by the time we slow at an abandoned car on the side of the road. Sebastian punches open the window and reaches in and unlocks the car in one fluid motion, and I watch him, wide-eyed. His suit is beat-up and covered in dried blood, but he still looks great in it, and I find myself wanting to touch him some more, to put a pause to all of this and go back to those Wednesday nights when it was just me and Sebastian, and nothing else mattered.

Sebastian motions me inside. I snap out of my thoughts and follow his lead, climbing into the passenger door as he settles into the driver seat. We both shut our car doors at the same time. Sebastian reaches beneath the car's steering wheel and expertly presses the wires together, brushing them against one another until the hum of an engine sounds.

I smile despite myself. Here we go.

"Not going to cuff me this time?" I joke as soon as Sebastian starts pulling the car off of the side of the road, then speeds down the street, but the bitterness in my voice is obvious.

Sebastian cringes. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to save you. I can get… overbearing at times."

I laugh, annoyed. "No kidding," I mutter as we gun down the maze of roads, heading to who-knows-where.

We don't speak for another hour or so.

As Sebastian drives, looking almost as focused and determined as he was when we were being chased, I find myself relaxing. My muscles ache and the exhaustion seeps in. I drink some water from a water bottle left in the side door, and I offer some to Sebastian but he refuses to drink any. We head in silence all the way there, and I close my eyes, letting sleep take me away. But before I slip into unconsciousness, I find myself thinking about what the man had asked Sebastian. "Where are they?" he'd asked. "Where are they hiding?"

Distantly, I find myself wondering who this 'they' the man is talking about is, and if I am soon to become one of them.

* * *

When I wake up, the car is parked. I take in a deep breath and look around. It hits me how I was, once again, so close to dying just hours earlier. It's twilight now, and the air is dark and thick and hazy, sending shivers throughout my body. Cool wind slips by me through the open window, and I hear the sounds of crickets chirping, then the slam of a door beside me as Sebastian steps outside.

"Where are we?" I ask him groggily as he comes around and opens my door for me. I step out, barely able to stand, but I force myself to nonetheless.

"The one place we have left to go," he says under his breath, more to himself than me.

I don't have a chance to ask what he means.

The house this time looks much more lived-in than the others. We walk up a long, swirly driveway until we reach a large house atop a hill, so that one can see any intruders from all sides. Giant maple trees surround the house, enclosing it in a protective shield. As we draw closer, I notice that the grass looks freshly cut, that the blue paint isn't fading and no windows are shattered. It's like someone has been here, and recently. I wonder if this someone is Sebastian. I wonder if this is his home.

I follow him around the backyard and through a stone path to the front steps. The front porch lights turn on because of our presence, illuminating the darkness. Sebastian fishes into his pocket and pulls out a key when we reach the front door. There's a click, and he pushes the door in, revealing the interior of the mansion.

The lights turn on automatically, filling the room with a bright yellowish color. The house is large and grand, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and silky rugs spread across the floor. The walls are painted a perfect white, and the floor is marble, cool at the touch. Heat pours in from the house, warming my skin, and as I step inside, I feel instantly at home. I have no idea why or how, but something about this place feels familiar, almost like I've been here before.

Sebastian follows me inside, closing the door behind me.

A large dining room table is positioned at my right, complete with a bowl of fake fruits and freshly lacquered wood. The scent of cinnamon fills the air, and as I look in front of me, I notice a winding marble staircase stretching to a floor above. The whole room is full of color, with old paintings hanging from the walls and a brown leather couch and flatscreen TV positioned off to the right.

"Welcome to hell," Sebastian says without a trace of humor.

I look around the house, my eyes shining. "It's beautiful, Sebastian," I breathe.

He grimaces. "Not to me," he says to himself, and then he disappears into the kitchen before I have time to ask why.

I drift over to the couch, relaxing my sore muscles as soon as I collapse onto it. I close my eyes for a while, flipping through the TV stations and just listening to the different actors and their voices, letting the total normalness of the sounds and their laughter calm me, make me feel okay.

When Sebastian returns, he's carrying a glass of milk and some pre-heated pasta. He sets it down on the little table in front of me, then pulls out a match and lights the three candles surrounding it. He pours me a glass of wine and dims the lights in the room, and, finally, he takes a seat beside me. His warm body feels nice this close to mine, and the touch of him is so inviting and relaxing all at once. I turn to Sebastian, who stares blankly at the TV. I notice the dark circles chiseled beneath his eyes, see the stress on his face he's trying so hard to hide. And it hurts. It hurts to think how much he's going through to save me. How he may be going overboard with all of this, but it's all for one reason: me. He's just a man in love, I realize. He's just lost in translation. He needs guidance, needs healing, needs me as much as I need him.

We lie there for a while, breathing heavily, looking at the TV and recounting everything that just happened, thinking about how close we were to death, but how, even now, we still have each other. We're still just pieces of what we once were, but I can feel the pieces of my heart coming together, and they're here for one thing and one thing only: him.

I love Sebastian.

I love everything about him.

Even though I shouldn't.

Even though I know it's wrong.

I love him.

I love that I'm his prisoner.

I love everything about our setup.

After a while, Sebastian sits up and brings me a small dinner, saving only a small portion of it for himself. "Eat up," he says quietly, offering me the plate. I take it with a thank you.

Sebastian looks beautiful in the candlelight, his face so mysterious and masculine, tortured and vulnerable. I find myself entranced with his lips, with the way they move as he speaks, so much that I just want to reach out and kiss him. I barely keep myself from doing so.

I turn back to the TV as I eat, letting myself sink back into the world of pointless reality shows and crime dramas, feeling normal for the first time in a while. The food and wine tastes so good after everything that happened today, and I find myself feeling happy again for the first time since the night Ash died. Feeling… less scared. Feeling like this all will work out, as long as Sebastian is with me.

"Are you okay, angel?" Sebastian says quietly, turning to me. His blue eyes are like jewels in the dim light.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

He sighs. He reaches out a hand and starts stroking my dark hair, smiling a little to himself, one of those secret smiles I wish I could be a part of. "I mean, you," he breathes, his words tickling at my ear. "How are you?"

"Oh." I look down at my feet. "I'm… okay, I guess."

Sebastian keeps running his fingers through my hair. It's so relaxing, making me want to close my eyes and let everything but this moment, this feel of him stroking me, melt away. "And you still don't hate me?" he asks hopefully.

"No." My voice is quiet, mixing with the sounds of the crickets outside. "No, I guess I don't."

Sebastian forces a smile. "I'm glad. You know I'd never hurt you, right? I just want to be here for you. I've been hurt so many times before. I've left everyone I cared about in my life. I don't want to leave you too, or for you to leave me. You're my one constant. You're the one person I need."

"I need you too, Sebastian," I whisper, sipping my glass of wine and lacing my arms around his body. "And I know. I know you… mean well."

"I do, angel," he coos into my ear, nipping lightly at my earlobe with his teeth, and suddenly I'm back at the hotel room, loving the feel of him on me. "I do care about you." He continues to kiss me, this time on the neck, and I lean my head back, taking it all in--the heat from his lips, the tingles he gives me.

I let him kiss me for a while before asking, "Where are we?" I motion at the house around of us. "Is this… is this where you live?"

Sebastian sighs, pulls back. "Sort of," he admits, but his voice doesn't sound convincing. It's more distant than anything, like he himself is lost in another world. In another time, another place. Maybe back to when we were in hotel room 364, when nothing mattered but each other.

"And where do we sleep?"

"We sleep downstairs." Sebastian says quietly.

"Why not up there?" I ask through a bite of pasta, pointing to the staircase leading to a floor above us.

"Just trust me, angel. And please don't go upstairs," he says. "Okay?"

"Okay."

We don't say anything for a while after that. I go back to eating and watching TV, relaxing as Sebastian's arm slips around my own, warming me at the touch. It feels good to be with him again. It feels good not to worry. And while we weren't out of the woods yet, something about this house is so familiar and safe and homely, that with Sebastian beside me, everything feels complete. Everything feels okay, if only for a little while.

"Will you tell me about the man who was… torturing you?" I ask after a minute, locking eyes with him. "What did he want?" My voice is quiet and soft and I regret asking it as soon as the words leave my mouth, but I know I have to. I have to know.

"Nothing," Sebastian says, making it clear he doesn't want to talk about it.

I shift closer to him, not giving in quite yet. "He said something about a 'they'? People who were hiding? Who is that?" I ask gently.

"Yes," Sebastian says, closing his eyes. "'They.' He means the people I never killed. The ones who I let go into hiding."

I shift up against Sebastian, resting my head on his warm and broad shoulder. "Why did they go into hiding?" I keep looking out at the TV. He starts caressing my hair again, his fingers so gentle and smooth.

"Because Marco found out I didn't kill them all too quickly," he whispers, and his voice sounds like a distant melody. "After only a few weeks, actually. And they knew they had to go into hiding because he would stop at nothing until they were dead. And I… helped them."

"Oh." I keep my gaze trained on my feet. "So this whole thing is about finding them? Why does Marco care about them so much?"

Sebastian sighs. "Angel, I'd rather not talk about this. Okay?"

I hesitate, then nod. "Okay," I say. "That seems fair."

We're silent after that as I finish my dinner. The whole time I find myself listening to the sound of his forks clinking on his plate, feeling the quiet lull of the place take me away. I focus on the TV for a while. I'm not really paying attention to the show, just the voices in it, the sounds of their normalness as they carry me away. I eat until my dinner is totally gone, drink all of the wine, and then I relax, taking in several deep breaths, feeling relieved and okay. My muscles still ache from before, but everything else feels in place, feels right for once in my life.

Finally, after maybe an hour, Sebastian stands up. He peels off his blood-soaked shirt right in front of me, and I watch him despite myself, fascinated with the look of his bare muscle in the candlelight, wanting nothing more than to run my hands along his skin. He grabs a warm cloth and dabs it against a cut on his stomach, wincing a little.

I stand up despite myself, drifting toward him. "Allow me," I whisper. He hesitates, but lets me take the cloth from him. There is nothing but the sound of crickets outside and each of our heavy breaths, mingling together, as I dab the warm cloth against his stomach, feeling his muscle beneath it.

Sebastian isn't looking at me as I work. He just keeps staring off into the distance, as if he's seeing into a world I can't make out. I listen to the gentle sloshing of warm water as I refill the cloth, then press it back against his body, rubbing it gently around the wound.

"Do you love me?" Sebastian asks after a while, his eyes still trained on the door.

I hesitate as I dab the cloth against his wound. He doesn't even wince. Not once. "Does it really matter?"

"Yes," he says. "Everything matters when it comes to you, angel."

"Oh." I blush despite myself. Sebastian's gaze drift down to mine at that, and I feel the intensity in his stare as I consider his question. Do I love him? Do I really? I already know the answer, of course. I already know it's the reason I've stuck by him all this time, the reason he makes me feel the way he does. "Then yes," I say, meeting his gaze. My words are slow and quiet, but they sound so right as they roll off my tongue. "Yes, I love you."

A smile spreads across his face. Not a cocky smile this time, though. Not a forced one, either. Just a genuine, warm smile. "I love you too. But you already knew that."

"Yes," I say, pressing up against his warm body. I smile despite myself, because just Sebastian smiling makes me smile. "I did."

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in, burying his nose in my hair and breathes in the scent of me. His arms are thick and muscular, and they feel so great around mine. All I want to do then is to stay there forever, in his arms, for him to rock me back and forth and kiss me until there is nothing left in the world but him and me.

"Make the pain go away, angel," Sebastian says after a minute, holding me by the arms and leaning back so he can look into my eyes.

I hesitate, still clutching the warm cloth in my hand. "But your cut--"

"Forget the cut," he says, unfurling my fingers so the cloth falls to the ground. "You are all I need."

His fingers lace with mine, and just the touch of his skin makes my stomach feel hot, makes my body buzz with energy and desire. I feel his erection pressing against me again as he holds me, feel each little groove of his body against me. And I want him again. My skin is numb and tingly, and I know I want him. I know I love him.

"Can I have you?" he repeats, bringing his lips down on mine. His kiss is hot and fiery, sending an ache throughout my body and leaving me wanting so much more. He moves his hands around my hips, pressing his torso to my back, and the feel of him on me is addicting, intoxicating.

"Yes," I say as he pulls back. Then I lock eyes with his. "Take me," I whisper.

And he does.

* * *

I find myself gasping for breath by the time Sebastian and I finish. Everything about him is so incredibly sexy, from the taste of his lips to the gentleness of his touch to the arch of his muscle to the moans he gives me to the feel of him inside of me. My skin is still hot and sweaty and shivery, and as I slip on my underwear, I find myself watching Sebastian dress beside me, fascinated with each little movement of his body, with the muscle in his chest and the arch of his back and the little V veins his torso make. I love him, love him even when I shouldn't. He is dangerous, he's a killer, and yet, everything about him feels so right.

Once he's put on his underwear, he walks over to the couch and pushes off the cushions, then unlocks a mattress and pulls it out. He grabs some sheets and a blanket from a basket beside the couch and spreads them out across the mattress, tucking them in on either side.

"We sleep here tonight, angel," he says quietly, shifting the pillows from the couch to the mattress.

He sits down at the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over and into the sheets. When I don't move to join him, he pats the space beside him. I sit down, my hand brushing his. Sebastian smiles a little, reaches out, and gently wraps his arms around my body, drawing me into his chest.

"You feel so good," he whispers into my ear. I lie there beside him, in the bed, with the candles flickering throughout the huge and dark and empty living room.

I don't say anything. There aren't any words to say. There is just the feel of him.

"You're sleeping with me tonight," he continues. "But that means I have to keep you here. That means I have to… hold you here." He pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. "Okay?"

I hesitate, glancing between the handcuffs and his fiery blue eyes. "You don't trust me?" I say, not bothering to hide the hurt in my voice.

Sebastian sighs, shakes his head. "It isn't an issue of trust, angel. People don't leave you because they don't trust you, or because you don't trust them to stay. People leave you because they don't know better, because they don't even realize they're leaving you until it's too late. And I'm not taking that risk with you," he whispers. "I'm not risking losing you too."

The genuine hurt in his words is almost too much to bear. My heart aches for him, wishes I can make him better. I need him to feel okay, just like he makes me feel okay. Our relationship has always been about that; healing the other with our touches and our words. But sometimes, I doubt that I'm really healing him. Sometimes, I think no one can heal Sebastian.

"Okay," I say, wishing I had the strength to say no. "But don't make them tight, please?"

Sebastian smiles a little. "Of course, angel," he says, gently clasping the handcuff to my hand, then attaching it to the bottom of the mattress. "Anything for you." He kisses me when he's done, a long, drawn out kiss that sends a shiver through my body. "Does that feel okay?" he whispers, blue eyes piercing mine.

"Yes."

"Good." Sebastian lies back down now, looking up at the ceiling, and I follow his lead. The ceiling is empty, nothing but white paint, but there is something beautiful in how ordinary it is. I wish I were ordinary, sometimes. I wish none of the bad things ever happened. But then I realize that being ordinary never made me all that happy either. Being ordinary never gave me any of these experiences, never made me feel as alive as Sebastian does. Being ordinary is kind of overrated.

Maybe everyone should be shards. Maybe that's the point.

"Do you think we're ever going to escape for good?" I ask after a while, not looking at him. "Do you think Marco will ever give up?"

I hear Sebastian shake his head beside me. "I don't know. I think we just have to hope."

"Hoping hasn't gotten me very far," I mutter so quietly that I don't mean for Sebastian to hear, but he must anyway, because I hear him say to himself, "Me too."

We're silent for a long while after that. I listen to the crickets outside, to the whirring of the fan above me, and I find myself wondering if this place is going to be my home now, if I'm ever going to get out. But at least I'm with Sebastian. At least I still have him. And for now, that's all I need.

"Angel," he whispers after a few hours have passed, right when I'm on the verge of falling asleep.

"Yes?" I say, sitting up and turning to him.

He's not looking at me, though. His gaze is still trained on the ceiling. "In case anything ever happens, I want you to know something. I want… I want to have a plan B." He turns to me now, locking eyes with mine. "Okay?"

I nod. "Of course," I say softly.

"You aren't going to like it," he says, eyes on mine.

I hold my breath. Just the idea of losing him, losing anyone else, hurts too much to explain. "Tell me."

He sighs. He reaches out a hand and starts running his fingers through my hair, his blue eyes so soft and sad, as if he regrets something. "Angel, I've done bad things," he whispers. "You know that. And you may learn some things about me soon… that just… they aren't good things. I regret them, though. Each and every one of them. But if it gets to the point where you hate me, where you're hurt inside and just want to leave me, then we need to end this. Even with the risks," he whispers. "And then, afterward, if you decide you need to, you can leave me forever. No questions asked. I'll let you go." He moves in closer to me, his hot breath on my lips. "I hope you know that, angel. I hope you know that I'll always let you go if you absolutely need to leave."

My heart skips a beat. What is it Sebastian is hiding from me? "What's the plan?" I say. I make sure my voice doesn't shake. I make sure I'm strong, strong for him.

"To go with Marco," he says quietly, eyes still on mine. "He won't kill you on sight if you tell him you have… information about me. Give me up and save yourself, angel. I need to pay for my sins sometime. You don't deserve to be pulled down with me."

"So you want me to go to his house and kill him?" I say quietly, staring back at him, at the curve of his jaw, the deep tan of his skin. The scary thing is, I know I'll do it. I'll do anything to be happy, to be with Sebastian. I've been hurt so much before, broken to the point where I barely know who I am anymore, that I know I'll do anything I need to be happy again.

Sebastian shakes his head. "Don't do that. Trying to hurt him at his house will only get you killed by his guards. Just give me up, angel, if something bad were ever to happen." His eyes lock with mine. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," I say quietly, knowing it's a lie. "I can." But a part of me keeps wanting to ask him what exactly it is he is hiding from me, what it is that is going on, what he's holding back that could potentially ruin all of this. I tell myself it's nothing, though. Tell myself I can trust Sebastian. I have to trust Sebastian. Because without him, who can I possibly trust? I have no one left but him.

He smiles lightly, then kisses my forehead. "Goodnight," he says, rolling over so his back is to me. "I love you."

But I don't say anything. I just stare up at the ceiling, thinking and thinking. I think about happiness and what I'd do to achieve it. I think about how much pain I feel every day, and how much I want to be with Sebastian and not have to worry about anything ever again. And then, I think about how a part of me, a deep and dark part of me, would do anything to make the pain go away. Would do anything to make me happy again, to make me feel less broken.

Absolutely anything.

"I can kill him, you know," I say suddenly, horrified by my own words. "If you think that'll help."

Sebastian muscles tense up as soon as the words escape me. He turns over to me, his eyes fiery, his voice filled with anger and something else… fear, maybe? "No. You shouldn't do that. Don’t give that up for me. Don't be like me, angel. You never want to be like me."

"But getting rid of him will take away the pain. And I want us to be happy," I say quietly, staring down at my hands. "Is being happy really too much to ask?"

He keeps shaking his head, his eyes so, so sad. "Don't say that, angel," he whispers. "Please. Just don't say that."

"Okay," I say quietly, my eyes glistening with tears. "Okay."

Chapter Fourteen

The next few days go by quickly, and Sebastian and I stay in the house at the top of the hill, still safe for now. I have no idea how Marco's men found us last time, so I catch myself constantly looking behind me, checking to make sure no one is following me, or is here to kill me, or whatever his men want. But no one is. Not yet, at least. Neither Sebastian nor I go upstairs, which makes me wonder what it is he is hiding from me, but I try not to worry about it. I've learned not to question Sebastian. He is who he is. He does what he does for reasons I'm never going to understand. And at the end of everything, all that matters is that we're together.

Sebastian doesn't let me out of his sight, either, for fear Marco will find me. He takes me into town, watching me the whole time. He gives me money to buy new clothes and food and makeup, and he makes me dye my hair blonde, which doesn't look especially good on me but it makes me look less like myself, at least. There isn't much to do here, nothing but lay low and wait, but at least, in the heart of it all, I have Sebastian. I have someone to hold, someone to love, and that's more than I used to have.

It's Wednesday morning, three weeks since Ash died, that that all changes.

Today, Sebastian brings me into town. We're out of groceries, so he drives me down the hill toward the tiny little town center, which is really just a handful of small buildings clustered together. The "supermarket" he parks in front of is the size of a mini restaurant. A few people sit outside of it, lounging at little glass tables with umbrellas over them, basking in the sun and eating sandwiches and laughing and talking. A water fountain sits to their right, with water pouring out of an angel statue's mouth. Sebastian slips on his dark sunglasses and leads me into the supermarket, keeping my head down.

The place is as antique as it is small, with dark-lacquered wood covering the floors and walls and several shelves filled with an assortment of fruits making up the rest of the store. It smells strongly of sawdust and cinnamon, and it's mostly empty except for a clerk resting boredly against the cash register and a few customers, all of whom seem to be older than fifty, slowly picking food off of the shelves.

I head toward the fridge at the end of the store almost immediately. Sebastian follows, keeping me close.

"What are you doing?" I hiss at him as he follows me all the way to the refrigerator. He leans against it and surveys the store, his eyes like a hawk's.

"Protecting you," he says softly, still wearing that suit of his.

"From who?" I mutter, grabbing a carton of milk and throwing it into my basket. "Do you really think I will be clubbed to death by the old ladies in this store?"

Sebastian turns to me, his blue eyes hard and strong. "This isn't a joke."

"I know, I know. But please, just give me some space for a little bit, okay?"

Sebastian narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Nothing. I just… I want to be alone for a few minutes. You've been everywhere these last few weeks and I love that because I love you, but… I also need a breather." I sigh. "I just want a few minutes, okay? No one here is going to hurt us here. And anyway," I add, handing him my grocery list. "We need more cheese. I'm sure you can handle that."

His lips purse into a smile at that, but he still looks worried. "Don't go too far, okay, angel? I'll never be able to live with myself if something happens to you. Promise me you'll stay in the store?"

I smile. "I promise."

And then he nods, as if trying to reassure himself, and starts heading over to the cheese aisle, muttering something under his breath. I catch his gaze darting back toward me, though, and I know he's worried. And I like that, weirdly enough. I like being his. I like that he cares so much about me. I like our setup--I like everything I have.

I may not know much about Sebastian, but that doesn't mean I can't love him. Because I do. I love him as much as I wish I wouldn't. Sebastian is addicting, dangerous, and broken. He's the only one who knows how to put the pieces of me back together, the only who knows how to make me feel safe no matter what.

I head over to the front of the store where the muffins are, smiling a little to myself. I realize then that I could potentially live like this, with him, for as long as we need. He is everything I have, anyway. He's every part of my life that matters.

I'm so lost in the thought of Sebastian while I mindlessly put some of the muffins into my basket that I don't even notice the man come up beside me.

I almost jump when I hear his voice, deep and rough, as he reaches into the stack and pulls out a muffin of his own. "You live around here?" he asks in a thick accent, grabbing another muffin to put in his basket.

"Um." I look up to meet his gaze. The first thing that strikes me about him is those eyes. Not just green but a deep green, like a burning emerald, or a serpent of some sort. They're the kind of eyes that once you look at, you can't look away from. They're entrancing, almost, beautiful in an unsettling kind of way. Then there is his deep tan, his jet-black hair that is slicked off to the side, and the thick muscle in his bicep, like he's been through a lot in his life. He's handsome, though. Not sexy like Sebastian is, but dark and attractive in another way. Gruff, I think. There's some kind of pull about him, something strong and undeniable, and as soon as I lock eyes with him, I find myself struggling to breathe evenly. I've never seen him before, that's for sure. He's the kind of guy you'd recognize from a mile away.

I glance back to see if Sebastian is watching, but he's busy fumbling with the cheese, trying to get it out of the fridge. I hesitate as I turn back to the man, wondering whether I should just walk away. Sebastian already told me not to talk to anyone else and I'm just about to obey, but then I remember it's also been three weeks since I've talked to anyone but Sebastian. Plus, this man seems harmless enough, so it can't hurt to answer just one question, right? "No," I admit, nervously shifting my weight to my right foot. "We're just visiting."

"Ah," he says, taking a bite out of one of the muffins. "No wonder I didn't recognize you." Then he steps forward toward me, and suddenly I feel my instincts go off. There is something unsettling about this man, I realize all of a sudden. Something not… right, and I know right away that talking to him was a mistake. My heart starts pounding faster and faster, and I inch back slowly, taking in a deep breath. "Is that your boyfriend?" the man says, pointing to Sebastian, who seems lost in the world of shredded cheese, frowning like he's never been to a grocery before.

"Yes," I say slowly, watching him closely, making sure he doesn't try anything. I debate whether to call for Sebastian to come here, but I know he'll only be angry with me for breaking his rule, and Sebastian's anger isn’t worth it if I'm wrong about this man.

"Interesting," he says and starts stepping away from me, toward the door. A breath of relief escapes me. False alarm. Thank god. "I recognize him, miss," the man continues, still heading toward the door, a serpentine smile tickling at his lips. "In fact, I once knew him."

I frown. My heart starts beating faster. "You did?" I ask despite myself.

His smile grows. Thin-lipped. Scary. I really shouldn't be having this conversation with him. I really should be running to Sebastian right now--just to be safe--because something about this man is all wrong. But curiosity gets the best of me, because I want to know more about Sebastian too badly. "As a matter of fact, yes. He was a good man, when I knew him. But he changed after one of his jobs. Such a shame," the man says, shaking his head. "Such a shame."

My pulse is pounding now, and I feel the need to know coursing through me. The answers I've been looking for are right here in front of me in the form of this man, and as much as I wish I didn't want to know, I can't help myself. I want the truth. It's that simple.

I shoot a quick glance back at Sebastian. He's found the cheese now, and will be seeing me with this man at any second. So I spin around and ask the man urgently, "What job?"

He looks at me with fake surprise and also a touch of sadistic pleasure, that same thin smile spreading across his lips. "You really don't know?"

"No," I say. My hands have started shaking. "What is it?"

The man takes another step toward the door, savoring a second bite of his muffin. He looks at me with such amusement, it makes me scared. My stomach twists. By the glint in his eyes, I know something very very wrong is about to go down.

"He was hired to kill two parents," the man says, watching my expression. "Mr. and Mrs. Knight were their names. It was about, say, two years ago. They even had a daughter. Such a shame," he repeats, but I'm not even listening anymore.

Everything fades out. His smile, his voice, everything. My heart is pounding furiously and my ears are ringing, and I just don't know what to do. I'm shaking now, shaking so hard I could pass out. My gaze keeps zooming in and out, and I find myself moving my head back and forth, trying to deny it, trying to tell myself this can't possibly be real.

Because Knight is my last name.

And Mr. and Mrs. Knight are my parents.

Sebastian killed my parents.

Everything hurts all of a sudden. It's like I'm in a dream, or a trance, or something, but whatever this is, it cannot possibly be real.

Sebastian couldn't have killed my parents.

He wouldn't have.

They were robbed. They weren't assassinated.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the man sneers, seeing the fear etched all across my face. "Did I say something wrong?"

He turns then, takes a final bite of his muffin, and steps through the threshold of the shop. I'm still shaking like crazy, my mind racing to piece together what just happened, but I manage to call after him, "What's your name?"

He chuckles, steps outside, and then he's out of sight. "I think you already know the answer to that, missy," he calls back. "And hey," he says, his voice thick with sadistic pleasure, "if you ever change your mind about Sebastian, I'm always waiting at the dance studio."

The next thing I know, he's gone, and all I want to do is break out into tears. I'm still shaking and feeling sick to my stomach by the time Sebastian reaches me, grabbing my arm. His eyes are filled with worry as he pulls me toward him. "Everything okay, angel?" he asks, and I somehow manage to nod, forcing back the tears.

"Were you talking to someone?" he says urgently, eyes darting between my face and the open door. "I thought I heard your voice."

I shake my head, feeling my stomach twist. A sob racks through me and I'm barely able to hold it back, because just looking into Sebastian's eyes reminds me of what he is: a cold-blooded killer.

But could he really have done that to my parents? My Sebastian?

"I was just talking to myself," I say, barely keeping my voice from cracking. "There was no one."

Sebastian doesn't look like he believes me, but he nods anyway. "Okay," he says. "Let's get you home."

He gently takes my muffin basket from me and goes up to the cash register, purchasing the food. And I just stand there, watching, but all I can think about is him, holding a gun to my parents' heads two years ago.

Chapter Fifteen

I don't tell Sebastian what the man told me. I don't have the will to, not until I know for sure.

As soon as we make it home, I race straight to the bathroom and lock the door behind me, then proceed to puke several times. I let it all out of me, let out all of the pain and the churning in my stomach, let all of the memories escape me. I start crying too, crying through everything, and I crumple back, sinking against the wall, and I just cry and cry because I don't know what else to do.

I feel so terrible, like I just lost my parents all over again, because the one person I have left in my life might be the cause of why it was so bleak beforehand.

None of it feels real, honestly. It's like I'm dreaming, and having one of the worst nightmares in the history of nightmares. Sebastian couldn't do that, right? He couldn't kill my parents.

The worst part is I don't even know anymore. He said himself he'd done bad things, so what's to stop him from doing something like that? How can I even trust him? I try to tell myself that I'm overreacting, that whoever that man was is just trying to throw me off or something. Or maybe it's just a practical joke or whatever. I don't know. And I most certainly don't know how to figure out the truth. I can't possibly bring myself to ask Sebastian in case I'm wrong, and I'm pretty much locked up in this house, so I'd have no other way of finding out.

Another sob racks through me at the thought. I'm trapped in a house with a man who may have killed my parents.

Just then, there is a knock at the door. I jolt up, my stomach hurting. "You all right in there?" It's Sebastian's voice, filled with concern.

"Yes," I say, barely keeping my voice from cracking. "I'm fine. Just a little sick."

Sebastian pauses. "I'm coming in."

"No!" I say quickly, then realize how I sound and add, "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Angel, if you think I care what you look like then you really--"

"I just want to be alone," I say, cutting him off. "Okay?"

"Angel--"

"Sebastian, please."

He sighs. "Okay. But if there is something wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

"Right," I say, feeling sick all over again. "You'd be the first to know."

That seems to satisfy him. He starts walking away, down the hall, to the living room. I hold everything in until the sound of his footsteps has faded away, and then I break out into a fit of sobs and more throw-up.

I spend most of the afternoon in the bathroom. I've lost all the willpower to get up. I just sit there, holding back the tears, racing to piece together a reason why Sebastian would never kill my parents, a reason I can really believe, so I can finally move on from this.

But I can't. I can't think of anything. Because Sebastian… he's the kind of person who would follow orders. He would kill without a thought. And that scares the hell out of me.

I don't even know why I'm giving so much credit to this one thing a man I don't even know said. I mean, after all, I'm sure there were other Mr. and Mrs. Knights with a daughter murdered two years ago, but still. Something about the way he said it… it didn't feel like he was lying. He was definitely trying to rattle me for whatever reason, but he didn't sound like he was making it up. He sounded like he was telling the truth, and was certainly more than happy to do so.

I feel sick again at the thought.

Sebastian killed my parents.

Sebastian. killed. my parents.

Would he really do that to me? To us? Would he really let himself love me, even after he took away my family? Does he really have that little morals? I tell myself that he doesn't. I tell myself it's a lie. I tell myself that my Sebastian would never hurt me like that. I tell myself that I trust him. And I believe it, kind of. But a part of me can't help but feel that the man, whoever he is, is telling the truth.

Come dinner time, I finally make my way out of the bathroom. I can barely stand, and I gulp down several cups of water as soon as I reach the kitchen. The liquid feels good against my raw throat, feels natural.

I collapse on the couch where Sebastian is sitting, but I don't dare look at him. I can't meet his gaze anymore, not without remembering that cold-blooded look I saw in him last week. Not without thinking how easy it could have been for him to use that same look on my parents, right before he pulled the trigger.

The possibility makes my heart sink.

I could very well be falling in love with the man who murdered my parents.

I try to remind myself that there is no way it's true, but the more I say it, the less I believe it.

Sebastian doesn't say anything to me the whole time we're in the living room, which is a total relief. I can see he wants to though, can see how he wants to ask me what's wrong, but he doesn't. So we just sit on the couch and watch TV, letting time slip away, and I try my best to get lost in the pointless soap operas, but I can't anymore. The pounding in my heart is too strong, and a migraine is coming on, making my head hurt all over.

Soon, my mind drifts back to the man at the little supermarket. There was something about what he said, how he was acting like I knew who he was… it didn't feel right for some reason. It's like I'm supposed to know him. But there's only one person I know of who knows Sebastian, and that person is… Marco.

My stomach seizes.

Marco.

Could that man have been Marco?

And if so, Marco could very well be lying about Sebastian, right? Just to turn me? I tell myself yes. I tell myself it's true. I try not to question it.

After a few hours of sitting on the couch, Sebastian brings me dinner. We eat in silence, or at least he does. I don't really eat. My appetite has totally evaporated after today.

I catch Sebastian glancing between me and my food a few times with obvious worry, but he doesn't say anything, to my relief. He just watches me, trying to figure out what's wrong.

After a while, he stands up and clears my plates, leaving me alone in the living room. I star trembling all over despite myself as he's gone, trying to make sense of all of this. But one thing is clear: I need to figure out if that man really was Marco.

When Sebastian returns, sitting down beside me, I turn to him. "Sebastian," I say quietly, taking a deep breath to ensure my voice sounds as calm as possible. "Can you tell me… what Marco looks like? Just so I know?"

He narrows his eyes as soon as I say it. He looks worried, maybe even suspicious. "Why do you want to know?" he says, raising his voice.

I look away. "I just do. I need to know… who to watch out for. Don't I? In case something happens?"

"Nothing will happen, angel," Sebastian says, hard and determined, nuzzling up against me.

"But in case it does. I want to know." I bite my lip. It takes a lot of effort to keep my voice from shaking. "Do you have a picture of him?"

Sebastian sighs, but nods. He goes into the kitchen and searches for something, but I don't follow him. I keep my eyes glued to the TV screen, hating myself and Sebastian and Marco or whoever the man was for making all of this happen.

Sebastian returns holding up a photograph. It's old and dusty, and I take it gingerly, squinting to make out what it is.

The picture is of a man dressed in a suit like Sebastian's carrying a large gun and smirking at the camera. He's tall, with slick dark hair and a rough face. He definitely looks familiar, but it's not until I see the man's eyes that I know for sure.

The man's eyes are the same deep green as I'd seen before, so strong, even through the photo.

My heart stops. My stomach churns.

The man I talked to was Marco.

I know it with every fiber of my being then.

I want to cry. To scream. To figure out a world in which any of this makes sense.

Why would Marco approach me but not kidnap me? If he's really after me, why did he only talk to me, rather than hurt me like Sebastian said he wants to? And would Marco lie about Sebastian to get me to turn on him? He would, right? But at the same time, I'm not so sure he was lying.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My hands have started trembling as I clutch the photo in my hand, wishing I could find a way to get some answers. But there is nothing. There is no way. I'm stuck here, and the only way I can know for sure is to ask Sebastian.

I glance over at him, in his fancy suit, his beautiful dark hair spilling over his forehead, and I just don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can ask that, especially if I'm wrong.

My toes curl. How come whenever I get even a shred of happiness in my life, someone is always there to rip it right back? How come everything ends badly for me? How come I never get the happy endings I read about in books?

"Angel, tell me what's wrong," Sebastian says a little harshly, his eyes narrowing. "Have you seen Marco before? Has he tried to hurt you?"

"No!" I say quickly. "No, nothing like that! It's just…" I open and close my eyes, handing Sebastian back the picture and working hard to keep my hands from trembling. Flashes of Sebastian holding a gun on my parents start racing through my mind, and it's all feeling more and more plausible by the second. "It's just that this is all so much, you know?" I say at last. "I don't know what's going on anymore." Or who to trust, I add silently.

"Let me make the pain better," Sebastian says, reaching over and wrapping his arms around mine. But tonight, it's uncomfortable for some reason. He doesn't hold me any differently than he used to, but now it feels so wrong, like something is very, very off about feeling him beside me. Touching Sebastian just makes me feel sick, and images of my parents dying, of my dad jumping to save my mom and Sebastian pulling the trigger on them fill my mind.

The police said it was a robbery, but Sebastian is a professional. If he really did kill them, he could have easily made it seem like a robbery, right? But why would he want them dead? Did Marco call the hit, or did Sebastian do it on his own? I shake my head. I don't even know anymore. So many questions race through my mind, but I don't know the answers to any of them. All I know is that I may very well be in love with my parents' murderer.

Sebastian brings me closer into his arms, holding me gently, loving, like he always does. He starts kissing the top of my head again, but it doesn't feel as comforting as before. Instead, it just makes me want to push him off and leave this place. All I can think about is my parents' bodies. All I can think is that he may have done it.

Sebastian moves his kiss down from my head to my neck, holding me by my arms, dragging his tongue along my pale skin. It feels wrong, though. It feels so wrong. And I want him off of me so badly that I can't help but shove him away, perhaps too roughly. "Not tonight," I whisper, my hands shaking.

He frowns, cupping my chin and looking right into my eyes. "What's wrong?" he says, urgently this time.

"Nothing." I roll over. "I'm just tired. Please leave me alone."

"No." Sebastian stands up, his eyes flaring. "No. I'm done leaving you alone. I'm done seeing you get hurt. I just want you to feel better, angel, and you were better until I gave you some freedom today."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Stop it, Sebastian. Just fucking lock me up here or whatever you're going to do to me, okay? I need to go to bed."

Sebastian stops. Steps forward. Anger radiates from him, and I can hear it in his breath, can feel his eyes burning into mine, even though mine are closed. "Why do you think that?" he says, raising his voice. "Why do you think I'm locking you up here?"

I shake my head, annoyed. "You said yourself I'm your prisoner, remember, Sebastian?" I say too harshly. "I'm just the idiot who you lock up and fuck and move on with after a few weeks. You're probably going to kill me and dump me like you do to everyone else after you're done with me."

"Don't you dare say that." The hurt in Sebastian's voice is palpable. "Don't you fucking dare! I love you, angel. Don't you get that? I love you. I would never, ever hurt you. And yes, you were my prisoner. But that was before. Things have changed. You aren't my prisoner anymore. You're my lover. We're meant for each other, don't you see? You love me even for my flaws. You're my hero, my savior, and I'm just returning the favor."

My eyes shoot open, and I stand up to face him, nostrils flaring. "How is this returning the favor? How is locking me up doing me any good? Because it isn't, Sebastian. It's doing nothing. You're--you're running me." My voice cracks. "You're ruining me, your own lover."

Sebastian face is totally red now, and he's in my face, making my blood boil. My heart keeps pounding and pounding but I'm not in the mood to back down. I'm never backing down, not to him. "I am done taking risks with you, angel!" he shouts. "The one time I let you out of my sight for just a few minutes today, you start acting like this. This is what I mean! This is why I keep you so close! I don’t want to fucking lose you, don't you get that? I want you to be mine. I'm not letting Marco or anyone get to you. So I'm done. I'm done giving you freedom. I'm done trusting you. You're getting your wish, angel. You are my prisoner now. You are mine. Now go the fuck to bed so I can lock you up here."

I start to argue, to scream back at him, but I don't have the energy. My throat is too hoarse, and I feel so achingly tired, so much that I can only slump back in bed. So I just nod, biting back tears, and I lie down on the bed. I don't meet Sebastian's gaze as he handcuffs me to either part of the frame, the cool metal brushing against my skin. Then, just like that, he storms off into another room. "Goodnight, angel," he hisses behind him, and his voice sounds so broken it makes me want to scream.

Tears start pouring down my face, and the pain of losing Sebastian too is everywhere. My heart aches and my stomach hurts, and I am so confused, so freaking confused. I don't know who to trust anymore. I don't know what to do. All I know is that I'm miserable, and it’s all because of Sebastian and Marco.

I squeeze my eyes shut, thinking back to the night I first discovered my parents' bodies, to the cop cars and the sirens and the shock I felt. It's kind of like this shock: the shock of something ending.

It's interesting how that happens. How everything can be so good one moment, and then the next, all of the good is gone, whisked away, just like that.

And as I lie there, thinking back to the night my parents died, to the raw and empty pain I felt that night, to the two years of sorrow and loneliness it triggered, only one thought remains:

If Sebastian really is the killer, then I'm going to make him pay.

Chapter Sixteen

I never really liked Christmas. Something about it was always so depressing to me, because every Christmas morning I'd wake up and run to my parents' bedroom to pounce on them and open the presents Santa left me, but every morning, they wouldn't be there. My parents would be gone, with an apology note about how some work crap came up and they were sorry, but if Santa came, I could open the presents without them, as always.

I always knew the whole Santa thing was bullshit, but my parents didn't realize that. They never really realized that I didn't have a real childhood, and they especially never realized it was all thanks to them. When your parents leave you on your own for days at a time all the time, even when you're a kid, it's hard to remain innocent and naïve. It's hard not to learn things you weren't so supposed to know, do things you weren't supposed to do.

And so, I guess you could call me rebellious. But I wasn't really. I just knew about things my parents wouldn't have wanted me to know. Like sex. I knew all about sex. I had it several times throughout high school--it wasn't like anyone else was around to keep me company. So I screwed a lot of boys, went to lots of parties, and did a lot of dancing. That was my life really. Dance, then parties, then sex. Dance was the major theme, the one thing that really kept me company, but random hookups were a strong second. It felt good, I guess, for a time, before my parents died. It felt good to be intimate with someone else. It made me feel like I wasn't so alone after all.

But as much as I disliked Christmas, this Christmas, this Christmas now I'm thirteen--a few years before all of the rebellion began--was supposed to be different. My parents were going to be home for once. They promised me, made sure to clear all of their work plans, and I begged them to please be sure, telling them I needed them, telling them I needed their company just this once. And Mom knelt down beside me, stroking my hair and said of course they'd be here, said that they were sorry they've always been so busy but this time, this year, things would be different.

This Christmas, they would be here.

And I believed them. Or at least, I kind of did. I kept checking on them, though. Throughout the night on Christmas Eve, I kept making sure they were still here, because I didn't want them to leave again. And through the night, each time I checked, I found them in their bed: sound asleep, waiting until morning. I started to feel giddy, going to bed with a spring in my step because for once, I realized, they would be here on Christmas. They would dedicate a whole morning just to me, and I'd feel happy again. I'd feel like I had a real family.

And I couldn't wait. I couldn't wait for that oh-so-distant warmth of knowing I'm loved, knowing there are still people out there who care deeply about me, to replace the growing pit in my stomach.

So come Christmas morning, when my eyes snapped open for the first time and morning sunlight peeked in through the windows, I leapt out of bed and raced toward my parents' bedroom, so thrilled to be able to see them again, just imagining the kinds of things we'd do this morning. I tried to picture what presents they'd give me, what things they'd say, whether they'd make me hot chocolate and rub my back and tell me they loved me like people did in movies. I tried to imagine everything that would happen that morning--everything with them.

I raced into their bedroom and pounced on their bed, waiting for them to pop up and bring me into a warm embrace, waiting for them to make my Christmas amazing.

But the bed was empty.

My heart threatened to plummet at that, but I tried to keep calm. Okay, I thought. Maybe they're surprising me. Yeah. That's got to be it. They're surprising me.

So, giddiness returning, I raced around the house and checked every room, eyes darting about to find them, heart pounding in anticipation.

But no one was there.

Bathroom? Nothing.

Family room? Nothing.

Kitchen? Nothing.

My heart kept sinking and sinking with each room I checked as I realized that, as it turned out, they'd left me again. But it wasn't until I checked my own room that my heart totally plummeted. Because left on my pillow was a note in Mom's rushed handwriting, reading:

Sorry honey. Work got in the way. I know you must be disappointed. But I saw Santa left you some presents. Maybe next year?

And I didn't know what was wrong with me, but as soon as I read the note, I closed my eyes and started crying. I just crumpled against my wall, crying and crying, crying because it felt good to cry, because I didn't know what else to do but let the tears pour out of me. I missed my parents. I missed having them close. I missed spending time with them. And for Christmas, I'd only asked for one thing. Not a toy or a game system or whatever. No. All I'd ask for was for my parents to spend a morning with me, and they couldn't even do that.

They couldn't even stay with me for that long.

They couldn't even be bothered to make sure I was okay.

But I loved my parents, I told myself. I loved them because the occasions they were here, they made everything better. I always told myself they were the one bright spot in my life. I always told myself I needed them.

I can't help but wonder if I always knew I was lying.

I think I did, honestly. And I think I always knew that I hated them with every goddamn part of me, and was only pretending to like them so I wouldn't feel so alone.

I think I always knew that sometimes, when things felt especially dark inside of me and I remembered how manipulative and neglectful they truly were, I was… well, I was glad they're dead.

* * *

When I wake up, both of my arms are chained to each bedpost. I shoot up in bed, everything from the night before flooding back to me, but the chains restrain me. I struggle and struggle, trying to break free, but it is no use. I'm trapped here. Locked up. Just as Sebastian told me I would be.

I try to scream, jerking my head desperately around, trying to find someone to hear me and let me free. But there is no one. We're isolated here, up on this long hill. There is no one around to save me.

As if on cue, Sebastian walks into the room, watching me with a kind of defeat. He sips his coffee, looking at me sadly, and the sight of him just makes me want to scream some more. The chains don't hurt at least, and they're loose enough to let me sit up, but I can't move beyond that. I glance down in front of me and notice a plate full of eggs Sebastian must have made me. I knock them over with my foot, then glare up at him. My appetite is totally gone.

"Angel," he says quietly. "Are you okay?"

I don't answer him. Just stare into his eyes, into the eyes of the man I thought I could trust, and I just keep shaking my head. The tears sting at my eyes again, hurting like a million papercuts, rising up just like that. I spit at him. "Get away from me," I hiss. "Just get the fuck away from me."

"I don't want this," Sebastian whispers. His voice is so genuine, so hurt and heartfelt, that I find myself believing him despite myself. And it hurts. It hurts to know I still love him, even after all of this. "You know I don't want this. But you aren't giving me a choice. I'm saving you, don't forget that. I'm saving you by letting Marco get to you."

My voice keeps trembling. "So this is how it's going to be?" I whisper, rage slipping into my voice. I spit on his shoe. "You're going to lock me up like… like some kind of goddamn animal?"

He sits down at the edge of the bed. "No, "he says softly. "Of course not. I told you, I'm done. I was going to keep you here, but then I had a… change of heart." He says the words as if it wasn't entirely voluntary, which makes no sense because there is no one else here. "If you want to leave, then leave," he continues. "I'll let you go. I'll always love you, angel. You know that, right? But if you choose to leave, then I'll let you, but I can't protect you if you do. And if you get hurt, I won't be able to live with myself, but I decided it's better me being miserable than you. I told you. I'm a bad man. But I'm not one without morals."

My stomach churns. What is going on? Why is he letting me leave all of a sudden? And can I even trust him? I tell myself I can't. There's still a good chance he killed my parents. "So if I want to leave," I say slowly, "you'll unchain me? Just like that?"

"Yes," Sebastian says, but there is a sad, almost bitter edge to his voice. Yes. Something is definitely going on. "You'll be free to go, but with the risks... in case Marco finds you. It's up to you, angel. You know much I love you. But it's wrong of me to hold you here against your will any longer. It's been more than three weeks. I've had plenty of chances to show you how I feel for you. I'm trying to save you, but I can't do that if you don't want to be saved. So I'm giving you the choice." His eyes lock with mine, all fiery and tortured and broken. "Stay with me, or go it alone."

I open my mouth to say something, to tell him to let me free, but then I stop myself. Do I really want to leave Sebastian? After all he's done for me? I love him, I really do, and leaving him behind will hurt. But then I think about what he could have done to my parents. And I know, I know with all of my heart, that if he killed them, then I will have my revenge.

My voice trembles. I try to figure out what to do, who to trust--the hitman or his boss? The one who locked me up or the one who is after me? But then, all of a sudden, it hits me. Everything makes sense again. So I look up from my hands, locking eyes with Sebastian, and I say, "I need you to do something for me, before I choose," hard and determined.

Sebastian watches me carefully. "Yes?"

I look right into his eyes and say, "Take me upstairs."

"No," he says immediately. "This is a bad idea. There are some things you just don't want to see."

My heart starts pounding. I was right. So something is up there, and something important, by the look of it. "You told me you didn't want to lose me, right?"

"Yes."

"So if you take me up there, then maybe you won't lose me," I say, sitting up.

Sebastian shakes his head. "Angel, please--"

"Show me," I repeat, not backing down. I know I need to see upstairs. I'm not sure why, but I know it'll have answers, answers I've been so desperately seeking. "Take me there."

Sebastian keeps his eyes locked on mine, as if challenging me to see if I'll hold my own, and I do. I don't look away. I keep my gaze as strong as possible, my eyes burning into his.

Finally, he relents. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a key, then slowly unlocks the cuffs. I spring out immediately, relieved to be free. Sebastian leads me across the marble floor toward the winding steps that lead to another floor above. I take a tentative step after step, checking to make sure this isn't a trap, to make sure I'm safe with him.

My heart begins pounding, and I try to think what I'd do if seeing whatever I'll see is proof that he killed my parents. Would I kill him? Or would I just run away? Would I have the guts to fight back? I don't even know.

Every part of me hopes I'm wrong about Sebastian killing my parents, hopes this is all a big mistake and Marco is just trying to set me up. And those same parts of me hope Sebastian and I can find a way to go back to normal. But still, I can't help but wonder. If Marco is really after me and Sebastian, it doesn't make sense that he wouldn't kill us on the spot, considering he knew right where we were in that supermarket.

Something else is going on. Something else has to be.

I run my hand along the cool rail as we make our way up the stairs. The top floor is a huge thing, filled with decorative paintings and sculpture against the walls, with several giant chandeliers hanging overhead. A large patterned carpet stretches the expanse of the floor, soft beneath my feet.

When I reach the upstairs, I find myself looking around. There is nothing here. Nothing but a few closed doors leading into other rooms. I look at each of them closely, as if it will tell me which leads to whatever it is Sebastian is hiding up here. But they're all identical, brown-lacquered wood and seemingly untouched.

I turn to him. "Which door?"

"What do you mean?" He's leaning against the wall, and his lips have fallen into a flat line. He looks almost apologetic, if that makes sense. Like he knows whatever I'm going to discover is going to end very, very badly.

"You know what I mean," I say. My voice has started shaking again. I really don't want to do this. Not at all. But I know that I have to. I can't live my life thinking Sebastian could have killed my parents. I can't live my life with him keeping so many secrets from me. I need to know everything. I need to know him. And whatever is up here could be the key to that, but I can also tell I'm not going to like it. "Which door has what you're hiding?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Sebastian's voice is almost pleading.

"Yes. Which door?"

He sighs. "The one on the left," he says, pointing to the door nearest me. He tosses me a key. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

I nod, catching it in my hand and turning to it. No sound appears to come out of the door, only the distant hum of a song, probably something Sebastian left on. Heart pounding, I move the key down to the lock, wondering what could possibly be inside here. I feel myself starting to regret this already. Do I really want to know? Do I really want to see what Sebastian's hiding? I tell myself the answer is yes. I need to see. I need to know if I can trust him.

I need to know if I can be with him.

So I slip the key into the lock, take a deep breath, and turn. It clicks, sending a jolt of fear throughout me. I reach for the doorknob, breathing heavily, but as soon as my hand wraps around it, I spin back around.

"Wait," I say to Sebastian. "Before I go inside, answer me something else."

"What?" Sebastian asks.

"Why didn't you turn them in?" I blurt out. The question has been bothering me for so long, that it seems I might as well ask it now. "The people you were supposed to kill but didn't. Why didn't you just let Marco take them, to save me and you? To save us both? Why did you care so much that you put us both in harm's way?"

I watch Sebastian intently. I'm still clutching the cool brass doorknob, waiting for answer. What I don't expect is for him to smile. Actually smile. Like a full-on, amused kind of smile.

My stomach drops.

"What?" I say, maybe too defensively.

"Nothing," he says, still smiling. He shakes his head. "I think you should go find out for yourself," he says, motioning to the door. "Your answer is in there."

My heart starts hammering in my chest as soon as he says it, and I turn back slowly around to face the door. I take a deep breath, opening and closing my eyes, willing myself the strength to look inside. Every part of my body hums with a mixture of excitement and fear as, head throbbing, I twist the knob and step inside.

Cool air blasts me as soon as I pull the door open, coming out so fast it practically blinds me. The smell of death permeates through the air as well, and I step inside, looking around nervously, not wanting to see what's in here.

The room is an ordinary bedroom, like the kind you see at a hotel. A bathroom sits directly to my right, and a king bed with a bedside table and lamp around it is positioned just a little beyond that.

But that isn't what I'm looking at.

My eyes immediately lock on a man and a woman sitting at a small table at the end of the room, with the sliding glass door swung open, letting in buckets of icy air from outside. They're both holding red wine glasses and looking out into the distance.

My heart pounds furiously. This is the couple Sebastian saved, I realize. These two are the reason Marco is after us. They are what made all of this happen. I take a step forward, my head throbbing.

And then I guess they hear me, because all of a sudden, the couple turns around, ever so slowly.

I recognize them immediately. I recognize everything from the woman's wispy dark hair to the man's thick-rimmed glasses to the warm brown in both of their eyes. I recognize the brown suit the man wears, and the little black dress the woman has on.

I recognize them, and then I feel everything come crashing down.

"Mom?" I whisper, unable to believe my eyes. "Dad?"

"Good to see you again, Crystal," they say in unison.

Chapter Seventeen

Everything seems to slow in that instant. All of the air is sucked out of my lungs, and I look back between Sebastian and my parents, shaking all over. This can't be happening. This can't be.

My parents can't be alive.

They can't be alive and in Sebastian's house.

This doesn't make any sense.

I start shaking my head too, not daring believing that any of this is real. This must be a dream. Or a nightmare. Or something. I don't know what but this cannot. be. freaking. real. "No no no no," I say to myself, biting back tears.

My parents are dead. Dead. Because if they're alive… then, well, all of the pain of the last two years has been for nothing. Every time I felt hopeless and alone, it was for nothing. Jumping off that building two years ago and losing my ability to dance, it was for nothing.

Mom and Dad are standing up now, walking toward me, small smiles on their faces. Two years of pretending to be dead, and all they can manage to do is smile.

They look different than before, though. Older, I think. Their faces are more wrinkly, paler even, and in general somewhat… off. They don't look as warm as they used to be. Their expressions look fake, look wrong somehow, and as they approach me, I find myself backing away, my hands trembling at my side.

No no no.

They can't be alive.

They just can't be.

It doesn't make any sense.

I back so far out of the room that I crash into Sebastian's warm and muscular body. I stumble, losing my balance, but he catches me. His arms go around my waist, drawing me toward him, protecting me. "I'm sorry, angel," he whispers, trying to keep me together. "I'm so sorry."

My hands are trembling, but I let him hold me. Mom stops walking at the door. Frowns at me. Gives me that same disappointed kind of look she always used to give me when I was younger. "I've been waiting for you, Crystal," Mom says, taking a sip of her red wine. Her brown eyes seem warm and heartfelt, but I sense the coldness behind them, the usual silent manipulation. That's the thing about my mom: she wants something. She always wants something. I try my best to paint my parents in the best possible light after their death, to tell myself that I loved them, that I was happy with them, because that always made things easier to deal with. Facing the truth was far, far worse. It hurt too much to remind myself that my parents were horrible to me, to remember how they abandoned me and made me miserable all those years, and the only time they paid any attention to me was when they needed something from me.

But still, I clung to them, because I had no one else to cling to.

And when they died, I felt so bad I never told them I loved them, felt so guilty over all of the things I never did, but now that I find out they've been alive all along… well, the rage has started boiling inside of me.

Sebastian tries to wrap me up deeper into his arms, but I push him away. My body is still shaking, and I can't deal with this. I can't deal with the betrayal. This could be the one thing worse than Sebastian killing my parents: him keeping them alive without telling me.

And them going along with it.

I look into my mom's eyes, so full of false care, and I just want to scream. They have no idea how much they hurt me. They have no idea how leaving me in the dust like they did, and Sebastian covering it up, as he said so himself, left me more alone than ever before. Made me so depressed I almost fucking died, and not to mention lost the one thing in my life I cared about more than life itself: dancing.

But they don't realize that. My parents look at me like I'm supposed to be happy to see them again, when really all I feel is rage, hot and thick, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of me.

Sebastian is the only one who understands me enough to notice that. He stares at me with such intensity, his face filled with a thousand apologies, but I can't even look at him right now.

"So you caused this," I say to my mom in a low voice, clenching my fists at my side. "You're the reason those men almost killed me. You're the reason Marco is after us."

Mom sighs and glances back at Dad, looking for backup, like I'm back in middle school and we're arguing about some stupid shit again. It's sad, how our relationship has never grown beyond the push-and-pull of my middle school years.

"Why don't we sit down?" Dad says quickly, sensing the tension in the air, but I won't have it.

"Answer me," I say harshly, my eyes trained on my mom. "Are you the reason Marco is after us?" I swear my head is about to explode, but all I feel is fiery, exhilarating fear coursing through my veins.

"Angel," Sebastian says behind me. "Please. Let's talk about this, all right?" His voice is quiet and soothing, and it would normally work on me, but not today.

"Shut up, Sebastian," I hiss, not even looking back at him.

I can feel his anger at my words by the way his stare gets three million times as intense, but he doesn't push it. He knows me well enough to leave me be.

I keep my gaze focused on my mom. I'm biting my lip so hard that blood is trickling out, but I don't even care. "Well? Are you? Answer me, Mom! It's the least you can fucking do after all this time," I yell, eyes burning into hers.

She sighs as if pretending she's been dead for the last two years has been some sort of inconvenience, like having to do the laundry when you're tired. Bile rises in my throat at that, and I just keep glaring at her, hands tensing at my side.

She sighs. "I never meant to hurt you, you know."

"But you did," I say. My head starts pounding. "Tell me why, Mom," I whisper. "Tell me what's going on."

She looks at me sadly. "It's a long story, hun."

"Mom," I hiss. My heart pounds faster, and I just let all of the rage pour out of me, my tongue hurting from the intensity in my words. "You pretended to be dead for two goddamn years. I almost died because of you! The least you can do is tell me why."

She takes a breath, leaning against the threshold of the door and shaking her head. She glances back at Dad, who comes up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's time," he says, and then they both look at me.

Fear clings to me in that moment, because suddenly, I question whether I really want to know.

I mean, my parents are still alive.

My parents are still. freaking. alive.

I should be happy about it, that's for sure. I should be thrilled to see them again. But I can't be. I can't bring myself to feel anything but hurt. I've spent so much of my life totally alone because of them, and these last two years, every single shred of misery I felt was because I thought they'd been murdered, thought they'd left the world. My life felt so painfully empty at the time, and now I find out it was all a lie. It was all because my parents just… what? They felt like it? They up and decided to abandon their daughter and let her spiral into depression and not even give a fuck?

I grit my teeth, clenching a fist. I'm done making excuses for them.

Mom sighs again. "Crystal, sit down. We need to talk."

"No," I hiss. All of the rage, the fear, and the loneliness of the last years rise up, and it feels good to let it out, to let the pain pour out of me. "Tell me now, Mom. Tell me or I'm leaving."

I start to turn away, too, pushing past Sebastian, wanting to just get out of here, but Mom stops me. "Okay!" she says quickly. "Okay." A breath. "Okay." I turn around, glaring at her, waiting for her to continue, but she seems to be struggling.

"We aren't sports agents, Crystal," Dad says for her, stepping in front of her.

I grit my teeth harder now, working to keep my expression unfazed. "What?" I hiss. Of course they're sport agents. That's why they have so much money. That's why they're always traveling. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Dad says, looking at me sadly. "We're… consultants of sorts, Crystal." He locks eyes with mine. "We work for a drug cartel."

Everything stops then. My whole body feels like it shuts down. My heart sinks.

They work for a drug cartel.

My parents work for a fucking drug cartel.

All those times they were traveling, they weren't going to client meetings like they said. They were helping people sell drugs.

I clench my hand into a fist so hard that it starts whitening, but I don't even care. I'm fuming now, and I can feel the rage pulsing through me. My jaw gets tenser and tenser, but I keep my glare trained on my parents.

"We worked for Marco's competition," Dad continues. "We were logistics people, basically. The husband and wife duo. We helped them plan their transport of drugs, designed where they'd be and when, helped them find the drugs they needed and gave them price points to sell it at, and… well, we did whatever we could to make sure their system worked. We helped them do what they had to do. And sometimes, that meant helping them… dispose of the competition."

"You helped them kill people?" I whisper. My hand is shaking now. None of this makes any sense. First they're alive, and now I learn they worked for drug dealers. They're worse than Sebastian, and they don't even seem remorseful about it, don't even seem to care how much it all affects me.

The rage continues to build up inside of me, and suddenly I just want to scream. Want to run away and never come back. I hate this. I hate all of this. I hate everything that's been happening to my life--everyone, but Sebastian. He is the one who sees through my pain, who loves me for who I am. He's my shard of happiness, hidden and buried, and now, finally, in front of me.

But he's been keeping things from me. Things that may be too much for us.

"Yes," Dad says slowly. "Sometimes we needed to kill people. But it was all for good reason, remember that. These people deserved to die. They were bad and we got rid of them. It was just part of the job. You can understand that, can't you, Crystal?"

I keep shaking my head, not believing any of this. Dad's and Mom's gaze are sad and distant, but not compassionate. They hardly even care, especially not about the fact that I'm standing here, trembling all over.

Sebastian whispers, "It's okay, angel. It's okay" behind me but it doesn't help. I'm too shaken up and furious that both my parents and Sebastian would betray me like this.

"I don't understand," I whisper, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "I'll never understand you."

"Honey, I'm your mother," Mom cuts in, putting down her wine glass and taking a step toward me. "I'm here for you, okay? I'm just trying to do the right thing."

"And where were you these last two years?" I scream. "Or if we're getting technical, these last twenty-two years of my life? Because you were nowhere, Mom. You left me. You almost got me killed because of what you did. You didn't even warn me." My voice falters. Tears burn at my eyes, but I try to stay strong, try to keep it together. I won't let them see me weak. Not ever.

Mom winces at that. "I know," she says. "I know. And I'm sorry."

"Stop it," I say. "Just stop pretending."

She raises her eyebrow in surprise, but I can see right through her. I know she's just trying to manipulate me. She's always trying to manipulate me. I'm her own child, and all she sees me as is some chess piece, some stupid little doll that she can toss away and then retrieve whenever she needs something from it. From me. Mom opens her mouth to argue, probably spit out another fake, half-assed apology, but Dad beats her to it.

"To answer your original question," Dad says, "yes, we're the reason Marco is after you and Sebastian. It's also the reason we... pretended to be dead." His brown eyes stay on mine. My head keeps throbbing, and suddenly I'm not sure I want to know anymore. "It was all because Marco, though, Crystal. He had a son. And the cartel we worked for… well, they asked us to plan a way to kill this son. He was not a good person," Dad adds quickly. "He deserved what he got. He was hurting innocent people and we needed to get rid of him. Anyway, so we planned the killing as we always did. Our boss asked us to map out the details, and when we got them for him, he asked us to accompany the hit squad--just in case. So we did. It was just a formality, though, because Marco's son was supposed to be all alone in his house at the time. It was supposed to be a quick job. Get in. Kill him. Get out. But… well, it wasn't." Dad looks at Mom, then back at me. "Our hit team died, Crystal. All of them did. We were waiting in are cars when the explosion went off. Apparently, the door had been booby trapped, and so the second they stepped inside, that was that. Your mom and I, we started to race out of there and abort the mission as we were supposed to in case anything went wrong, but then we saw Marco's son running out of the building, still alive but totally alone, and we looked at each other and knew what we had to do. And so we killed him," Dad continues without a hint of remorse. "Shot once in the head. He was dead in a second. And then we left. Marco has been out for revenge against us as soon as he found out we pulled the trigger, and we've lived these last two years in hiding because of it."

"But remember, his son deserved to die," Mom adds. I turn to her. Her voice is sharp and condescending, and her eyes are filled with annoyance as she places her wine on the table beside her. "I'm telling you, Crystal, we did nothing wrong. Look at all those men he killed. Look at all the bad things he did. Look at what he could've done as Marco's successor to our rival cartel. We helped people, Crystal. Don't forget that. We helped people because we killed his son, and so he needed to die."

My whole body is shaking. I can't believe this. I can't believe any of this.

My parents are still alive.

My parents work for a cartel.

My parents are murderers and they don't even regret it. Not like Sebastian does.

"Why do you get to decide if someone deserves to die?" I whisper. The rage keeps on boiling inside of me, white hot and passionate. "What makes you any better than Marco's son, if you killed him in cold blood?"

"Crystal--" Mom starts, the same infuriating disappointment in her voice. "You don't know what you're saying."

I throw my head back and laugh, annoyed. "Really? Because I think I know what I'm saying more than I ever have before."

"No." She steps forward. "You don't. We aren't bad people, Crystal. We're just trying to do what's right, so we can provide for you."

"You've never cared about me," I hiss. My head is throbbing so hard I swear it's about to explode.

"Crystal--"

"Just tell me what happened next!" I scream. My throat is so strained that the raw skin is sore and biting, and all of the rage and the tears and the pain from the last years keeps bubbling up inside me, unleashed on the two people who caused all this.

"Okay," Mom says quietly, that innocent look in her eyes. My hands clench. I've always hated that look. I've always hated how she pretends to be innocent, to be the good guy, when we all know she is anything but it. "So Marco hated us," she continues, "for what we did to his son. For a few weeks after, we left the country, telling you it was just another business trip and we'd be back soon. We were… desperate, I guess. And scared. We knew that he'd be after us, that he'd know who was behind it and want revenge, and so we fled. But he didn't actually find us until he sent his hitman after us once we returned home." I feel Sebastian stiffen beside me, and suddenly it all makes sense. My stomach constricts, because I know and dread what she's about to say. "Sebastian was the hitman," she says quietly. "He knew we'd have to come home to you sooner or later, so he waited outside our house, he told us, for several days. He followed you around to make sure you weren't secretly meeting with us, and when we finally came home from our trip, he was ready. You weren't there. And he… he was going to kill us. But he couldn't. Because of you, Crystal. He didn't want to kill your parents. So he took us with him, told us he would save us and fake our deaths but we had to run now, and when we asked where we'd go, he told us about this place… about his secret apartment. We've been living here in hiding ever since. We were too afraid to contact you, until last night when Sebastian told us you were here, and we made him let you go. We decided it was time that you know the truth." She drops her voice. "I'm sorry, Crystal. For everything."

My whole body keeps shaking. This can't fucking be real. I keep thinking they're lying to me or something, because there is no way Sebastian would betray me like this, would hide my parents from me even though he knew how much not having them hurt me. "But why did he save you because of me? He didn't even know who I was until a few months ago."

Sebastian steps forward, his eyes intense and fiery as ever. I turn to him. I feel the heat from his body pulsing throughout the room, making everything so much more intense, more real. He clears his throat before he speaks, looking oddly nervous. "I knew you, angel," he says in a rough voice. "I knew you long before you knew me. When I was following you to make sure you weren't secretly meeting with your parents, I… well… I became fascinated with you. I followed you to your dance recitals, and I watched from the bleachers. And I remember thinking how you were just so elegant. So beautiful and strong and innocent and graceful. I loved how you danced. I loved watching your body move. But more than that, I loved the peace it gave you, the confidence, because I knew how hard your life was without your parents around and yet… you still found peace. You amazed me, angel. You were so light and happy back then, and you made me want to be a better man. You made me regret who I was." Sebastian drops his voice, reaching out a hand to touch my hair again, but I back away, still shaking. No no no. No! No! No! "I fell for you when I was supposed to kill your parents. I'd always done my job without question before you, killing whoever Marco said to kill because he told me they were bad, that they needed to die, and I told myself it was right to kill them. But when the time came for me to pull the trigger on your parents, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't hurt you like that. I couldn't kill your own parents. I already loved you too much, and so, I let them go and dressed up two… earlier victims… to take their place. I risked my life all because of you, angel. And when Marco found out, he tried to kill me, but I got away just in time. I got this when the bullet clipped me." He points to the scar on his cheek, the one he's been so protective of. "I didn't have the guts to approach you until I saw you at that club a year and a half later, and I couldn't contain myself." He steps forward, dropping his head down, looking sadder than I've ever seen him before. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

I hold my breath. I feel like I'm dreaming, like none of this can be true. My whole body is shaking so hard and as I look between my parents and Sebastian, the only people I've ever trusted, I feel so painfully betrayed. My heart hurts and hurts, and the rage boils inside of me.

My parents are alive.

I lost dance because I thought they were dead.

I almost died because I thought they were dead.

But they were just hiding the whole time.

And Sebastian saw it eating away at me, and still, he kept it from me.

They betrayed me. They all betrayed me.

My vision starts blurring, going in and out, and now I have nothing but anger left. I want to scream. I want to run away. I want to end this--somehow.

The man I love betrayed me.

Sebastian betrayed me.

The tears start pouring out now, racing like the beating of my heart, and I just keep shaking my head, backing away from Sebastian and my parents and toward the stairs.

"So you were behind all this?" I whisper to Sebastian, tears stinging at my eyes. "Their death almost cost me my life. It sure as hell cost me everything else. You saw how it hurt me and you did nothing. You--you--" My voice cracks then, more tears rushing out.

Sebastian's eyes flare up now, such an intense blue, and I feel them on me, feel their intensity, as he steps toward me. "You're right." His voice is low and rough still, but I see the passion building up, the love he doesn't know how to control. "I did see how it hurt you. And you know what? It fucking hurt me too. No, it killed me to see you hurt like that! But I couldn't tell you what I'd done… and what your parents had done. I was too scared. I was too scared it would hurt you even more. I--I made a judgment call. I'm--"

"Sorry?" I scream. "You're sorry? After lying to me all this time, keeping things from me like this, and jeopardizing my life so many times, all you are is sorry? You don't know what sorry means, Sebastian! You don't know what you have cost me!"

"But I do!" he shouts right back, stepping toward me and reaching out his hands, trying to wrap me up in his arms and make the pain go away like he always used to, but I just keep stepping back, not letting him, shoving him away with my hands. "I do understand your pain! I do know what this cost you! That's the point, isn't it? I do know. I'm the only who is fucking broken as you are! I know you. And you know me. We were meant for each other, angel, don't you see? I screwed up, and I'm sorry. But I did it all for you. I did it because I loved you!" His eyes feel like they're on fire now and his face is red from shouting, but I feel something break inside of me. I don't know what it is--hope breaking? Happiness? Love? But whatever it is, it kills. It feels like a bullet, right to the heart. And I just keep shaking, taking a step down the stairs, then another, and another, still facing Sebastian.

I can't do this. I can't go on like this. I have to leave. I have to get away from here.

And then hits me.

What I need to do.

It hits me as I lock eyes with Sebastian's intense blue. It hits me, the memory, and I know I have no choice.

"But that's not enough," I whisper, my voice trembling. The intensity in Sebastian's face seems to shatter, and I see the ache of defeat, of hopeless, spread across his features. I see it because I know what it's like. The worst part is that I believe Sebastian despite myself. That something in his voice, something deep inside, makes me know with every part of me that he never meant to hurt me.

But I have to do this.

I can’t take being here anymore.

I have to end this, once and for all.

So I lock eyes with Sebastian, take a deep breath, and hiss, "I'm done, Sebastian. I'm done, for good. Them," I whisper, nodding to my parents. "Them, I can understand lying to me like that. Them, they never cared about me. Them, I wish were fucking dead after all the lies and pain they put me through. But you, Sebastian. I never expected you to betray me. I trusted you. I loved you! And this is what I get? The second I put my heart out there, entrust the shards of me with someone else, I just get it ripped away? My heart just gets shattered more than it already was? Was that your plan all along?" I scream, shaking all over. "Was your plan just to hurt me more than before?"

The genuine pain in Sebastian's eyes is almost unbearable. "Angel, please," he pleads, reaching out a hand to me one last time as I keep backing down the stairs, but I push it away, shaking my head. "You know that's not true."

"We're done, Sebastian," I whisper, tears streaming down my face as I take step after step down the stairs. "We're done."

Then I turn around altogether, squeezing my eyes shut to keep more tears from falling, and I sprint down the staircase, to freedom. All three of them watch me go, sad and crushed, but they don't stop me. My whole body screams with pain and confusion and betrayal, but I try to push it away, focusing on just taking step after step, even through my blurry eyes.

And then, once I reach the bottom floor, I remember what Marco said. If you ever change your mind about Sebastian, I'm always waiting at the dance studio.

And so I spin around to face Sebastian one last time, anger pulsing throughout my body. "So that's why Marco didn't kill me in that little supermarket. He wanted me to lead him right to my parents and you. And you know what?" I scream, my voice cracking through the tears as I start sprinting toward the door to get way away from here. "I will."

Chapter Eighteen

The dance studio in town is small, much small than the one I used to go to. This one doesn't appear to have been used in years, and it's overgrown with thick plants and trees, shoved off into the corner of a parking lot away from the rest of town. The bricks that compose the studio are crumbling, white paint peeling off the walls, and the place looks more like a century-old garage than it does a dance studio.

I keep my head down as I walk over to it. My heart is pounding.

I know what I have to do. I know I have to leave Sebastian.

I know this is my only choice.

Several cars race by me and people pass me on the beat-up sidewalk, oblivious to everything, to the way my eyes are filled with dried tears, to the absolute shattering in my heart that I'm sure is blatant in my features. I feel changed, changed from before I met Sebastian. I feel less hopeless, somehow. I feel strong, like if I can make it through this, I can do anything. But thinking about my parents and Sebastian… about what they did to me… it hurts. It hurts too much to handle.

One thing is clear, though: I have to go with Marco. I have to escape. I can't even look at Sebastian anymore without my heart hurting, and as much I hate myself for leaving, I know I have to do this.

Music pulses from within the dance studio, and a man smoking a cigarette eyes me suspiciously as I walk over to it. I stare back at him, hard and unwavering like Sebastian taught me to do, letting him know I mean business.

Sebastian taught me a lot of things. Never back down is just one of them.

The man starts to step in my way when I head straight into the parking lot toward the studio, past a few broken-down houses.

"Where are you going, missy? You sure you're in the right place," he says, blowing a puff of smoke into my face.

I glare at him. "Your boss would be pissed if he knew you interrupted me."

He raises an eyebrow, amused. I don't stop glaring at him. "Is that so?" he says as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

"Yes," I say. "I'm precious cargo."

He starts to laugh, maybe to scream at me and shove me away, but then his eyes lock on mine for the first time, and I think he realizes who I am, because he looks suddenly startled and uncomfortable. "My apologies," he says quickly. He motions me to the door, then swings it open. "Right this way."

I smile at him, cold and annoyed, and step inside. He immediately closes the door behind me.

The room inside is dark, so dark I can't see anything even if I squint. It's small and cramped, with a giant mirror to the left side of the wall and some chairs pushed off in the corner. The smell of smoke and rotted wood fills the air, and the whole atmosphere is thick and hazy, but I know Marco is here.

After a minute, a figure steps out of the shadows. "You came." It's Marco's voice, deep and dark and sexy.

Just his words make my skin feel on edge, and I get the feeling I'm making a big mistake, but then I remember what Sebastian did to me, what my parents did to me.

He pretended they were dead.

He covered it up.

He and my parents let me lose my one passion left, almost let me lose my life, and all for one stupid fucking plan. There's no way I can be with someone like that. There's no way I can ever look at them again without having the bile and the rage rise up inside of me.

And anyway, Marco is the only one who has been honest with me this whole time. I almost died because of Sebastian's pretending, and now it's time to revenge.

Now, it's time for Marco.

So I say, "Of course I came" to the dark figure, making my body as straight and even as possibly, holding my chin up. Marco steps into the light, and I can see a shadow of his face--the rough jaw, the dark eyes, the face full of danger and desire.

"I knew you would," he says, pressing my chin up with his hand, examining my eyes. His are dark and brooding, like a storm surrounding a frozen lake. There is no happiness in Marco's eyes. There is only anger. "What changed your mind?" His gaze doesn't waver as he takes a drag of his cigarette, narrowing his eyes at me.

"You were right," I say simply. I stay strong, composed, even though my heart is pounding. "Sebastian was lying to me."

He smiles, one of those awful, confident, and pitying smiles. "And so you came to me."

"Yes," I say, pressing myself against him. "You are what I need."

He continues to smile, chuckling lightly, his whole face like a haze of darkness. He moves his hand from beneath my chin, dragging it down my neck, my collarbone, and slipping into my shirt. I let him reach into my bra, tracing my breasts with his finger. I force myself to breathe, to stay stock still, focused on him.

His touch evokes an ache inside of me, a fast and ripe shock that makes me want more and more. It's different from Sebastian's, but just as exhilarating.

"You want revenge?" he says after a minute. His voice is deep and raspy, and I stand up straighter, locking eyes with him.

"I want Sebastian to pay for what he did," I say without hesitation, dragging through every word. They came out slow and clear and so, so true.

He smiles, a crooked, sadistic smile, not like Sebastian's. "Good," he says. "I will teach you. But I should have you know"--he moves his face closer to mine, so his mouth is right on my cheek, and I feel his hot breath on my lips--"I am here to control you. Sebastian wants to save you, but I don't think you need to be saved, Crystal. I think you need to be broken, to feel everything, and I want to be the one to break you. Sebastian wants to love you. I want to own you. Do you want to be owned, Crystal?"

"Yes," I say, hard and strong.

"When I'm done with you, I'll wipe clean all trace of Sebastian. Do you want that?"

"Yes," I say.

He takes another step toward me in the darkness of the room, brushing his jaw to mine. "Do you want to feel everything?" he snarls. "Do you want to feel the things Sebastian never let you feel?"

I don't hesitate. "Yes," I say. "Always."

He smiles. "Then I think you're ready."

* * *

Marco drives me to his mansion a little while after that. We take a limo, and he joins me in the back seat, his arms snaking around mine, smoke from his cigarette curling in front of our faces. I keep my body straight the whole time, not being fazed, not being afraid. All I am is determined.

Sebastian needs to pay for what he did.

He needs to pay for ruining my life, and then keeping it from me while he took my heart in his hand.

He stole everything from me.

He stole my heart, and then he shattered it and shoved it right back.

Marco is the only who has been honest with me. He's the only one who has really cared. And since we have a common hatred of Sebastian, we'll make a hell of a team, I think, turning to Marco now. His green eyes are as strong as ever, and he watches me from his seat beside me, like a serpent surveying its prey. He licks his lips, then reaches out and kisses me. It feels weird at first, too thick and vicious and just… wrong. Wrong. So wrong. My body stiffens up automatically, because kissing Marco isn't the same as kissing Sebastian. It isn't as tender and fiery at once like Sebastian's kiss is. Marco's is all about desire. Not about pleasing me, just pleasing him. But I relax soon after, letting him kiss me, because it feels good in its own way.

Because the lips that are on mine don't belong to a liar.

I let him kiss me, let him drag his lips around my neck as he turns around and starts straddling, his breath all cigarette-filled and smoky. His body is thick and hard and hot against mine, and the feel of him is different too, but a good kind of different.

"I'm going to make you feel everything," he hisses, slipping his fingers down into my shirt as he continues to kiss me. I don't kiss back. I just let him wipe everything away, wipe Sebastian away. I let him make me forget. He slips off my bra, kissing at the space beneath it. "You want that," he continues, his voice rough and harsh and filled with desire. "Don't you?

He shifts closer to me, so that my legs are around him and his torso is pressed to mine. "I just want to forget him," I whisper as Marco kisses me lower and lower, his hands trailing down my body.

Marco smiles, a snakelike little smile, and I feel his green eyes on mine. "When I'm done with you, you won't even remember he existed," Marco rasps, pressing me harder against the side of the limo.

I lock eyes with him as he starts to slip inside of me, and I whisper, "Good."

Marco's mansion is even bigger than I expected it to be. After about an hour of driving, we reach a woody area of sorts, where a huge dark building stands, hidden beneath hundreds of trees. A ring of barbed wire wraps all the way around it, and several armed guards stand inside, waiting at the gate. Smoke billows from the chimney, and I look around, wide-eyed, as the guards motion us in. Marco holds me closer, his side pressed against mine. "Do you like the house?" he asks.

"Of course," I breathe in awe, the afternoon sun pouring down on me.

Marco smiles.

Once we're inside, he leads me through a huge, cavernous main room, up several staircases, and toward a gigantic room with a king bed and several TV's in it, which he tells me is my bedroom. He leaves me there with some fresh clothes, supplies, and tells me to make myself at home. I spend a few hours sifting through everything--the giant closet, filled with intricate women's clothes. The huge bathroom, with a large bathtub positioned in the corner. The lingering scent of lemon mixed with cigarette smoke which follows me wherever I go.

The whole place is incredible, and it almost makes me forget about Sebastian. Almost. But the pain is still too much. His betrayal is too much. And I know I have to make him pay.

I take a long shower after that, letting the scalding water run down my back and wipe away everything, hoping it heals the pain at least a little, but it doesn't. Not really. Nothing seems to heal me anymore.

And so I end up just standing there, tears rushing down my face as the hot water comes down, thinking about Sebastian and my parents more than I know I should.

I can't help myself, though. Sebastian became my whole life, my savior, so quickly, it's almost hard to believe. He consumed my life with such speed I barely even realized what was happening. And now, just as quickly, he's gone. Betrayed me. Ruined me even more than before.

Just like that.

Once the sun sets and the night sky darkens, a maid knocks on the door and tells me Marco has called me for dinner. I nod and thank her, put on one of the flashier dresses from his closet, and head down the stairs, thinking about Sebastian and what he did with each step. It hurts--it hurts to know how much I love him. It hurts to know that he ruined my life, but I still need him. It hurts to know that I still love him, even though I'm going to kill him.

Once I reach the bottom floor, the sound of classical music fills the air, trickling in through a half-open door. I walk over to it, knowing it leads toward Marco, and a huge room filled with candles and dim lighting greets me. A long brown table stretches across the expanse of the kitchen, with an assortment of salads and grilled kitchen and fish and steak and wine spread out across it. The whole place is rich with the smell of cooked meat and alcohol, and it looks breathtaking in the dim light. On the other side of the table, at the head, sits Marco, who watches me with those piercing green eyes of his, a smirk flickering across his lips. He pats his lap, and says, "Come, my love," and I do. I walk slowly toward him, letting the cool air slip by me, and when I reach him, I let him wrap his arms around me and gently bring me into his lap. His arms circle my breasts as he draws me into his chest, holding me close. I feel a certain hardness pressing against me from his lap, but I try to ignore it, try to focus on him touching me right now, and not what is to come.

I try to focus on the complete, blissful numbness the feel of his body gives me, making me forget about everything else.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says in that same serpent-like voice, which sends a shiver down my spine.

"Thank you," I say, because I don't know how else to respond. He draws me in closer, gently turning my head so I'm looking out at the expanse of the kitchen table, lined with all of the foods imaginable. "Are you hungry?" he asks, but I can tell he cares more about having me than how I actually feel.

"No," I say honestly, not daring to meet his gaze. My head is still throbbing from the insanity of today, and all I want to do is curl up and go to sleep, hoping to dream this all away.

"No?" Marco asks, tracing a finger down my right arm. "Do you not see any food you like? I can always get you more," he says, his voice mixing with the quiet classical music that plays around the room.

"No, it's not that." I hesitate. "I just don't know what to think about what Sebastian--what he did to me."

Marco sits up straighter at my mention of Sebastian, but then relaxes almost immediately. "Don't say that name," he whispers into my ear. "That name has only hurt you. He betrayed you, my love. But we'll forget him, don't worry. I'll help you get your revenge, and then I'll help you forget him." His voice is quiet and harsh, and I feel his hand slipping down my side, down to my leg, as he slowly reaches under my dress.

I lean my neck back, moaning quietly. His touch manages to make my mind feel absolutely blank, and so, as far as I'm concerned, it's all I need. All I'll ever need.

I realize then that this will be my life. Just letting Marco touch me, because it makes me feel numbness, makes me feel nothing at all. And strangely, I'm okay with that. Because nothingness means I won't get hurt again. Nothingness means my heart won't shatter any more than it already has. Nothingness means no one else can leave my life.

I feel the desire in Marco's voice as he trails his fingers up my thigh, tracing them slowly along my soft skin. I lean my head back further, closing my eyes, knowing what he's going to do next.

"Do you like your room?" Marco says into my ear, and I can feel his concentration, the growing hardness in his lap, as he circles his fingers around my inner thigh, right where all the desire is. I tense up, wanting him to just get this over with.

"Yes," I say, because it is nice, in the end. It's nice, because it's a place to belong, and that's more than I used to have.

"Will you be okay living there… forever?" he whispers, continuing to dance his fingers right along my soft skin, teasing me. My body tenses up and I close my eyes, leaning my head back onto his shoulder, feeling the blissful emptiness claw through me.

"Yes," I whisper, biting back a tear. "I'll live with you. Forever."

He smiles, vicious and thin-lipped, and then he presses me further against him. "I'm glad," he says. Then, he moves his finger up and up, until he goes inside of me.

Chapter Nineteen

I don't sleep well that night.

After dinner, Marco takes me to the shower, presses me against the wall, and kisses me like he always does: hard and filled with desire. My lips buzz with numbness as his touch mine, and I feel that familiar emptiness, where nothing can go wrong, where everything is safe.

And I like it. I like it because it isn't Sebastian's lips that are on mine.

When we're done, Marco dresses me and leaves me in my bedroom, saying he'll return to help me plan our revenge against Sebastian in the morning. I nod weakly as he goes, then slip under the covers and lie there, staring up at the ceiling all night long.

I just keep thinking about Sebastian, as much as I try not to. I just keep imagining his face as I inevitably hold the gun to his head. I just keep thinking about what he'll do, what he'll say, and whether I'll have the strength to do what I have to. I keep thinking about how much he cares about me, about how much loves me, about how he never meant to hurt me… but then I think about that night on the roof two years ago, when I almost lost everything, and the anger rises up again. He ruined my life for almost two years, making me miserable and alone, hopeless and broken. He made me feel awful, and then, he came back into my life and lied to me, pretended to be here to save me. He put back together the heart he broke--my heart--and then he shattered it even more.

He ruined everything.

He ruined me.

And now, I need to ruin him back.

I need to move on.

Sebastian and I are done. For good.

I turn over in bed, thinking about his smile, the feel of his lips on mine, and it's just so different from the way Marco kisses me, so much more real, that I almost wish it didn't have to be this way.

But it does.

It has to.

And so I lie there all night, a single tear slipping down my cheek.

* * *

In the morning, at eight a.m., I get up and shower. Dark circles are carved beneath my eyes, but my longing for Sebastian has totally evaporated. As the hot water runs down my face and body, one thing is clear: I'm ready to end Sebastian, once and for all.

I no longer even regret it. Not for a second.

Marco is waiting for me when I hurry downstairs, fully dressed and ready to go. He smiles at me as soon as he sees me in my dress, beckoning me forward. I walk over to him and let him pull me close and kiss me, let him wipe away the taste of Sebastian forever.

The sun peeks in through the windows, and my whole body buzzes with energy, knowing it's time to end this for good. "What's the plan?" I ask Marco, but he ignores me. He continues to kiss me, pressing himself against me, and I look away, waiting for it to end.

"Pretty soon you're going to forget he ever existed," Marco mumbles, moving his lips down the side of my neck.

The familiar numbness returns, and it feels good to keep from worrying, to know that everything is finally going to be okay again. Marco is going to make things okay; I know that then. His hand runs down my back as he kisses me, harder and harder, until he finally pulls back, smiling that little, sadistic smile of his, and says, "Today we train." His breathing is slow and drawn-out, and it feels weird to see his face this close to me. I hated him when I was with Sebastian, but now, he seems like the most normal guy in the world.

At least he tells the truth. At least he doesn't hurt me.

At least he isn't Sebastian.

"He taught you how to shoot, correct, my love?" Marco says in his usual harsh voice, pulling away from me and brushing his suit off. We stand in the middle of the first floor. It's a huge, domed room, and no one is in here but us. The sounds of men and trucks outside carry in through the window, though, probably something to do with his drug operations.

"Yes," I say. "But not well."

Marco nods. His deep green eyes stay trained on mine, so strong it's like they're piercing through me. "Have you ever shot at a target before?"

I shake my head, and he smiles, showing an array of too-perfect teeth. "Good," he says. "Then we'll start with that. But first, tell me, where is Sebastian staying?"

I give him the address without hesitation, knowing this is sealing the fate of the man I love despite myself. And I do it anyway. "It's a big house on the hill," I add. "Hidden from view. But once you're up there, you can't miss it."

Marco's smile grows. "Excellent," he says. "I'll teach you to shoot well today, so you can defend yourself properly. And three days from now, we'll go there, just you and me, and we'll end this. Does that sound okay, my love?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes," I say, meaning it. A devious smile flickers across my lips. "That sounds perfect."

* * *

Marco leads me outside after that, stopping in a little shack connected to the mansion to get us each a handgun. He tosses one to me, which I catch without hesitation, smiles, and then brings me over to a small stretch of grass where a few men are aiming at several black-and-white targets, all shaped like a person.

"Out," Marco barks as soon as we arrive, and his men nod quickly and obey, scurrying away. They know well enough not to mess with him.

"You're terrifying, Marco," I tease as the men rush away. I step in closer to him, pressing my breasts to his chest.

He kisses my lips again, smirking. "It's all part of the package, my love."

I grin as he pulls away to set up the target. I watch him closely, thinking to myself how much I like this. I like not having to worry about Sebastian anymore. I like this freedom.

The morning sun beats down on us, and Marco strips off his shirt as he walks back over to me, revealing a body full of muscle and sweat and tattoos. He stands beside me and switches off the safety of his gun, then aims it directly at the target, which is some thirty feet away.

"Watch me," he says in a rough voice. I do, focusing on the intense concentration in his green eyes as he squints at the target, brings his finger to the trigger, and then fires.

A crack breaks through the morning air, making my ears ring, and as I follow the trajectory of the bullet, I see it spiraling through the air… until it lodges itself right in the target's head.

A perfect shot.

"Wow," I breathe.

"I've had practice." He walks up behind me and pressing his shirtless body to my back. "Now your turn, my love," he says gruffly into my ear. "Cock the gun. Squint. Shoot the target."

I nod slowly, lifting up my gun. The sun is blinding, but if I squint hard enough, I can focus on the target, on the kill spot. He steadies my arm with his hands, his thick muscle guiding me forward. I take a breath, aim, and then, just like that, I squeeze.

The bullet rips out of the gun so quickly I feel myself stumble back, but Marco steadies me, keeps me from falling. I watch as the bullet flies through the air, spiraling, until it hits the target's shoulder, just a foot below the head.

Marco presses his jaw to my cheek. His voice is slippery as he says, "Not bad. But you have to steady it more, my love. Here." He pushes off of me and starts walking over to the target, then turns around. "Let's try this."

"Try what?" The hot sun keeps pouring down on me, making beads of sweat form on my forehead. I feel tired, so tired, but I just keep thinking about Sebastian and what he did to me, and it makes all of the anger and the pain rise up again. It makes everything fill with energy.

"You need more stakes," Marco yells back at me. "You need stakes to get your perfect shot. If we're going to do this, which we are, I need to make sure you are ready when it comes down to it."

I open my mouth to protest, but no sound comes out. "What are you talking about?" I finally manage to say. He stands right next to the target, so that his ear is inches away from the killshot in the center of the target's head. His intense green eyes stay trained on mine, his lip curled into a smirk. There is no mercy in his eyes. Nothing but revenge, hate for Sebastian. And as I grip my gun even tighter just from remembering Sebastian's name, I know I share that hate too.

"Shoot by me," Marco snarls. "Shoot the target. Right by my ear."

I hold my breath as soon as the words leave his mouth. My heart starts pounding, and my hand trembles, harder and harder. "What?" I say weakly. I have a horrible shot. I could so easily miss and hit Marco. And I can't possibly lose him too.

"Shoot it!" Marco repeats, louder and more harshly this time. "I trust you, my love. Shoot it. Aim it right by my ear."

I shake my head back and forth, keeping the gun trained on the spot by his ear but refusing to fire. "No!" I say hoarsely. "I won't-- what if I--"

"You won't miss," Marco shouts. "Remember what he did to you. Remember all of the pain he caused you. Remember how he betrayed you! Shoot the target. Pretend you're killing him!" Marco snarls.

My hands start shaking as I work desperately to keep the gun in place. I can't do this. I can't risk missing. I can't risk losing anyone else. I just can't. "But--" I start to protest, but Marco isn't listening.

He narrows his eyes, his whole face cold and determined. "SHOOT IT!" he screams, and I don't even know what I'm doing, but suddenly I feel myself squeezing my eyes shut. My heart keeps thudding in my chest as I start pulling the trigger and stumbling back, tears in my eyes. There's an earsplitting crack as the bullet whizzes out of the barrel and right by Marco's ear, hitting the target's head, missing him by less than an inch.

Marco doesn't move the whole time, and once the bullet collides with the cardboard with a loud crack, I crumple down and start crying, realizing how close I was to losing yet another person in my life. Marco only walks over to me, a giant smile spread across his lips. His face is filled with pride as he sits beside me, kissing at my neck. "I knew you could do it," Marco growls. "I knew you were strong, my love."

His green eyes seem to bore into mine as I turn around, still shaking, but the fear has now been replaced with rage.

Rage at Sebastian.

Rage at him for betraying at me.

Rage at him for fixing my life, only to ruin it even more than it already was.

I look up to meet Marco's gaze, biting down hard on my lips, and I say, "I just have one request" in the most determined voice I can muster.

"Yes?" Marco is still grinning at me, kissing my neck through his smile.

I take a deep breath and lock eyes with him, my eyebrows narrowing, my whole face darkening. I know I have to do this. I know I need my revenge. So I hiss:

"I want to be the one to put the bullet in his head."

Chapter Twenty

The next few days go by slowly. Marco keeps training me, working on my shot, and soon I'm able to hit the target square in the head with my eyes closed. He spends his nights kissing me, telling me I'm his, wiping away what's left of Sebastian, and I let him do it all. I love him in a different way than I loved Sebastian. I love him for getting rid of someone else, not for who he is.

But still. It's better than nothing, I tell myself. It's better than Sebastian. Plus Marco feels good inside of me, and I like my room, and I like the food he serves me, like the way he tells me he loves me, and I like the safety living with him provides. I like not having to worry about losing anyone else. I like the security of it all, of being with him.

But no matter what I do, Sebastian never seems to leave my mind. I hate him more and more with each passing day, and sometimes I just clench my fists and imagine he's there, so I can punch him. All I want is for it to be the day that Marco and I go to his house and I get to pull that trigger, once and for all.

I know what I have to do this.

I know I have to end this.

Finally, after what feels like forever, it's time.

The morning of the day Marco takes me to kill Sebastian, I wake up with a start. As soon as I check my alarm, I race into the shower and get dressed, then hurry down the stairs to the door. Marco is waiting for me there, dressed up in one of those overly expensive drug dealer suits, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"You ready, my love?" he asks, smirking at me, his dark green eyes looking sadistic as ever.

I pull the gun out of my pocket, load it, and then smile. "I've always been ready," I say. He steps forward and kisses me again, his breath hot and full of desire. His hand snakes down my back to my butt, and he smiles at me as he touches me, more of a smirk than a genuine smile.

I force myself to smile back, even though I'm feeling increasingly uncomfortable. "What's the plan?" I say, trying to change the subject. It feels off to be this close to him, to have his head on my shoulders, to have him kissing my collarbone like this. It's odd, how he kisses me only for his own desire, not also to make me feel good like Sebastian does. Or, should I say, did.

Marco hands me my cellphone in between his kisses, then pulls back and looks at me with those intense green eyes of his. "You call him," he says. "Tell him I tried to kill you. Tell him you're sorry, and you need to go back to his house. He'll listen to you. He's an idiot, my love, an idiot blinded by his love for you. He won't even see it coming. And then when you go to meet him, I'll accompany you as support, and you get to do the honors." A huge grin spreads across his face. He's been hunting Sebastian so long, I realize, and now, finally, he's going to get him.

All because of me.

I keep my voice as carefree and determined as possible as I say, not looking away, "I'm ready." Then: "And what will you do to my parents, once you get them?"

Sebastian flicks his tongue back and forth in his mouth. "Any requests?" he asks, his green eyes burning into mine like a snake's.

"Keep them alive." I barely hide the hesitation in my voice. "That's all."

He grins harder. "I can do that." He leans in and kisses me again, hot and slippery, so wrong, but I kiss him back anyway, because the utterly wonderful numbness returns when my lips touch his.

He pulls away, barely restraining himself. "Call him," Marco says gruffly, taking in a deep breath. "I'll claim you later. Okay?"

I nod. A part of me is relieved to have him off of me, though, and I automatically hate myself for it. I'm still in love with Sebastian, I think as I start dialing his number. Luckily, the part that hates him for what he did to me largely outweighs the rest.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before someone picks it up. My heart is pounding the whole time, but I keep my eyes narrowed for Marco, who is watching me from the side. I can't look weak. I can't be weak. Not ever again.

I'm ready to do this, I remind myself as my finger brushes over the cool gun in my hand.

I'm ready to end this.

After another minute, there's a click on the other end of the line. I hold my breath as the anger builds back up inside of me, listening to the phone crackle for one second, two seconds. "Angel?" The voice on the other end of the line is full of suspicion, but it's definitely Sebastian's. My whole body hurts. Freezes.

Sebastian.

My Sebastian.

The Sebastian who betrayed me.

Who lied to me.

Who ruined my life.

I bite down on my lip, hard, barely resisting the urge to scream at him. My heart pounds faster and faster, and I let myself morph into the person I'm supposed to be playing: the desperate Crystal, the Crystal who needs Sebastian, not the one who wishes he were dead.

"Sebastian?" I keep my voice as innocent and desperate as possible. "Sebastian, is that… is that you?" I sense Marco smiling at my little performance, knowing this is going to be the end of Marco. I hate myself already for doing this to him, but I know it's right. I know he deserves it.

"Yes, angel. Of course it's me." Sebastian's voice is so sad and broken and intense all at once that it hurts to hear.

I bite down on my lip harder this time. "Marco tried to kill me," I say, making sure my voice cracks for dramatic effect. "He--he's after. Please, Sebastian. I'm sorry for what I said to you. I'm sorry for leaving you. I was just… I was just angry, but now I need you," I whisper. "I need to go back to the house. Will you meet me there?"

There's a pause at the other end of the line, and the phone crackles. My heart pounds faster and faster, but I already know he's going to say yes. I already know he can't say no to me.

The fucking idiot.

"Angel," he says, and his voice is so innocent, so hurt. "I'm sorry. But are you sure this isn't a trap--"

"Of course it isn't," I say quickly, making sure my voice is filled with as much need as possible. I force myself to start sobbing a little, which makes Marco smile. "Please, Sebastian," I say in between tears. "Please, save me."

"Okay okay," Sebastian says quickly, his voice filled with concern. "Come to the house now. I'll be outside waiting for you. I'm sorry," he whispers, and his voice sounds so broken. "I love you, okay?"

"Okay," I say, forcing myself to sob again. "I'll be there."

Then, I take a deep breath, and I hang up. Marco slaps me on the back, laughing to himself, telling me Sebastian is a goner, and I feel a small smile tickle across my lips at that, because I know it's the truth. And even in the silence on the other end of the line, where Sebastian's voice just was, all I can think is one word: I'm going to kill you.

* * *

Marco parks his black SUV in the street behind Sebastian's safe house, gliding it to a stop. The sky is starting to darken now, and there is no sound but the slight howling of wind through the branches and chirping of crickets all around us. I slowly open my door and step out, feeling the cool pavement beneath my feet. Marco follows my lead, handing me my gun and looking up at me, his face illuminated by a pale streetlight overhead. Even through the darkness, I can see that same vicious look in his eyes, the look of someone ready for revenge. Kind of like me. "Are you ready?" he asks in a low voice.

I can see that he's ready, too.

I can see he wants to end this as badly as I do.

I check to make sure my gun is loaded, then slip it into my pocket and nod at him. "I've been ready for a long time now," I whisper, meaning it. And right now, in the cool night air, feels like the perfect time to do it.

Marco's smile grows. "Good, my love," he says. "I'll stay behind you. You take care of Sebastian, and I'll do the rest. And then, you'll be all mine. Forever."

I give a small smile. "I know," I say, taking a step toward the house. And then, just like that, I'm off.

The front porch lights are on in Sebastian's safe house, illuminating the expanse of green hill. The whole place is at a deadly hush, like the wind is whispering, waiting for what's about to go down. I keep my hand in my pocket, clenching the gun, as I come around the side of the house, through several entangled bushes, and start walking toward the front door, where I know Sebastian is waiting. The quiet sound of leaves crunching under my feet fills the air, and I listen to the monotonous hum it all, as leave after leave gets destroyed.

Marco stays a good distance behind me, not making a sound, and it isn't until then that I realize how quickly my heart is pounding, how much my throat is hurting from the cold, how chilled the blood in my veins has become.

I keep my eyes narrowed, determined, as I come around the side of the house. I take step after step, inhaling, exhaling, trying to stay calm. I know what to do. I've known for so long. And this is right--I know that now--but I can't help but feel so, so nervous.

Finally, I reach the front yard, and my body gets bathed in the intense porch lights of the giant house. I don't squint, though. Don't even hesitate. I just keep walking to the front steps, where a figure is standing. I have to work to hide my smile.

I know it's Sebastian, waiting for me.

Oh, how goddamn predictable he can be.

His face comes into vision as I draw nearer. It's surprisingly calm, although there is obvious worry etched into his features, like he knows what's about to go down. He's dressed in his usual business clothes, his head held high as he stands among the marble steps, two white pillars on either side of him. His blue eyes lock with mine almost immediately, and then something strange happens: he shakes his head.

Doesn't say "I'm so glad to see you." Doesn't say "Are you okay?" Doesn't check to make sure I'm not hiding something from him. He just shakes his head.

"Angel," he says, watching me with that hawklike gaze, but his voice is almost regretful.

"Sebastian," I say back. I stop at the bottom steps, just a few feet away from him. Behind him stand my parents, who are watching me intently, who are obviously alarmed. I don't meet their gazes, though. I'm done looking at them. "You came."

"It doesn't have to be like this," he says, his voice full of regret, but it's so quiet it practically drifts off with the wind. The sky is dark, so dark, and only the porch light illuminates his face.

I can hear Marco coming up behind me, can feel that it's almost time to end this once and for all, and even through my furiously pounding heart, I take a deep breath. I lock eyes with Sebastian. I prepare myself.

"Yes," I say slowly, hearing Marco a few feet to my life, just beyond their line of vision.

"Yes, angel?" Sebastian asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

He knows what I'm going to do. It hits me then. He knows, and he wants me to stop.

And then I force a smile, because I know with every part of me that this is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for. This is the moment it all ends, and Sebastian can do nothing to stop it.

I reach into my pocket, and I pull out my gun, aiming it directly at Sebastian's head. "Yes, it does have to be like this."

My mom screams. My dad covers her in her arms, whispering something into her ear. But Sebastian doesn't even seem afraid--just sad. It's weird, how he changed since I called him. It's like he was expecting this all along. He just keeps shaking his head.

Marco bursts out of the shadows then, holding a gun of his own, and I hear my mom crying, hear my dad comforting her, and yet, I feel nothing. I just keep staring at Sebastian, at those beautiful blue eyes of his, my fingers hovering at the trigger.

"It doesn't have to be like this. Don't be like me, angel," Sebastian pleads, narrowing his eyes at me. His voice is so sad, so full of regret.

"Shoot him," Marco barks at my side, aiming his gun at my parents. "Shoot him before he tries to pull anything."

My heart beats faster, but I don't shoot, not yet. I know the plan; I have to wait. One second, two seconds. Three. Four.

He sighs. "Yes, angel," he says, his blue eyes burning into mine, as if he's trying to warn me not to do this one last time. "Shoot me."

A smile flickers across my lips. Even through everything, it still feels good to talk to him. Anger rushes inside of me, bubbling up, seeping through the core of my being, and I feel my finger moving closer and closer to the trigger, feel my head and heart pounding so hard I swear they're going to explode. But I don't shake. I don't let myself be weak.

I can't ever be weak again.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" I say to him calmly.

"Shoot him!" Marco shouts, louder this time, but I block him out.

This moment is just me and Sebastian. Just me and him. This moment is all about revenge.

I don't dare take my eyes off of him. I focus on his every word, waiting for the signal.

"It only feels right, coming from you." He's still staring at me, as if begging me not to do what he's know I'm going to do. I can tell he's stalling, trying to convince me not to, but my mind is already made up.

I'm going to do whatever it takes to be happy.

"SHOOT HIM!" Marco screams at my side. "Shoot him, my love! Shoot him or I will!"

My heart is pounding furiously and my mom keeps sobbing and my head keeps hurting, but I try to push it all away, to just focus on this moment, on the trigger, on the feel of the gun in my hand. I block out everything but me and Sebastian, but what he did to me, but what he will do. And I click off the safety and press my finger to the trigger, and then I hold it there. "Any last words?" I whisper to Sebastian, eyes boring into his.

"DO IT NOW!" Marco screams, his voice becoming increasingly desperate.

My whole body hurts, but it's all focused, finally in order. My finger twitches at the trigger, itching to pull it.

I keep my gun trained on Sebastian's forehead, just as Marco showed me.

I know what I have to do.

And I know the time is now.

"Yes," Sebastian whispers, and he sounds so defeated it hurts. "Just a few." He drops his gaze, his eyes burning into mine, and every part of my body is screaming at me at once, and I know this is it. This is the moment. "Don't do this," Sebastian whispers.

And then I fire.

Chapter Twenty-One

The shot rings out through the night, shattering the silence that was just there. It reverberates throughout my ears, the end-all of all of this, the final piece in Sebastian's grand plan.

And I've just completed it.

I keep my eyes trained on Sebastian the whole time, and he looks back at me, regret spreading across his features as soon as I pull the trigger.

Because my gun is no longer trained on him. It's pointing at Marco, whose shirt is now pooling with blood where the gunshot went through, complete alarm all over his face. He stares at me, horrified, and I just shrug.

"Keep your friends close," I whisper into his ear as he stiffens up, then falls back, crumpling to the ground. "And your enemies closer."

Then, he collapses back, lifeless.

Sebastian forces a smile. "You did it, angel," he says, walking over toward me, but his voice is sad too, sad that it ended the way it did. Sad that it turned me into him. "You remembered the plan B I told you about."

I grin at him, launching myself at his warm, muscular body, letting him wrap his arms around me and hold me close. I breathe him in, loving his familiar masculine scent, and the feel of his body against mine is too great to explain. Sebastian holds me here, and it is feels better than anything else could possibly feel.

"Of course," I whisper, and I feel his breath on my lips, hot and heavy and giving me tingles. I squirm as he holds me, his fingers touching my skin, moving up and down my side. I can't wait to go back in the house with him, to let him inside of me again. "I could never forget your grand plan. And Marco fell for it, just as you said."

Sebastian kisses me, but he seems almost reluctant. "You shouldn't have done that, angel. But at least we're safe again." And as he holds me there, I know that I need him. I need him to put me back together. And I need to do the same for him, like always.

My parents are staring at us, horrified. "What is going on?" my mom asks, speechless. She's still shaking, but her crying has stopped, and disbelief has replaced it.

Sebastian just shakes his head, continuing to smile at me, and then he turns to them. "I told her one night, that if anything ever went wrong, to befriend Marco and give me up in exchange for her freedom. But this stubborn brat decided to finish the job and kill him, all by herself. When she learned that I was hiding you two here, I think she knew this was the moment I meant."

I feel myself smiling. All of the betrayal was real, of course. I hated Sebastian, for a little while. But I also know I love him too much to stay away. I know I'll do anything for us to be together--and that's exactly what I did.

Even though he didn't want it.

It saved us both.

He holds me close now, his lips pressing against mine, and the hurt in my heart that has been there since I started living with Marco fades away, heals, just from his kiss.

Sebastian would never hurt me.

Sebastian would never disobey my trust.

I would never have left him after I learned that he was hiding my parents, if it hadn't been for that plan.

I would never leave Sebastian.

I kiss him harder and harder, loving the feel of his body against mine, his erection pressing against my inner thigh. But even in the victory, even in the silence of the night, I freeze. I look past Sebastian, at my parents, at them, at all they did to me, and I realize then that there is still a hurt in my heart. There is still that same pain that has been bothering me since childhood.

And I am done with pain. I just want happiness. I just want Sebastian.

"What's wrong?" Sebastian whispers suddenly, feeling my body stiffen up, but I'm not looking at him anymore.

My gaze has shifted to my parents, who are still standing at the top of the staircase, free after all they did. Free and happy and not caring about the pain they caused me, the years of abandonment and neglect, the almost killing me.

And suddenly, I know there is one thing left to do for me to be truly happy.

"Kill them," I say quietly to Sebastian. The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, but they feel more right than anything I've ever said before.

Sebastian stiffens up, lets me go. "What?" he asks. "Angel, what are you--"

"Kill them," I repeat, louder this time. I keep my gaze trained on my parents, who have started backing up against the wall.

Sebastian's fiery blue eyes burn into mine, and he grips me, searching my eyes to see whether or not I'm serious about this. "Angel, what are you talking about?" he whispers. "Kill them? They're your pare--"

"I said fucking kill them!" I say, choking out a sob, letting all of the pain out that has been festering over the years. "They ruined my life, Sebastian! They abandoned me when I needed them most! They gave me life, and then they took everything for me. I almost died because of them! I sure as hell lost everything I cared about! Kill them, Sebastian. Just fucking kill them. Kill them so I can be happy again." I shove my gun into his hand. Tears pour out of my eyes and I just want to scream at the memories of my neglect, of the thought of being on that roof again, wanting to die, all because my parents abandoned me.

"Angel, are you sure?" Sebastian whispers. "I'll do anything for you. You know that. But they're your parents. You don’t kill your parents, even if they ruined your life. You just don't."

My hand starts shaking now. "I don't care!" I scream through the tears, because before I know what's happening, the rage has surged back. "I don't care whether it's wrong! I just want to be fucking happy for once in my life, Sebastian. Is that too much to ask? And I can't ever be happy with them"--I choke out another sob, staring at them both--"with them still in my life. Kill them, Sebastian. Just please, end this for me."

Sebastian holds me tight, his muscle tensing as they wrap around my body, but he doesn't protest either. He holds me, just holds me, in the cold wind in the dead of the night, and his body warms every part of me.

"Okay," he breathes into my ear. "Anything for you, my angel."

Then, he pushes back and turns around, loading his gun and approaching my parents.

"Crystal!" Mom shrieks desperately as she sees what's happening. The fear is palpable in her eyes, but I know longer even care. They're dead to me, even if they aren't quite dead yet. "Crystal, don't do this!" she shrieks. "Crystal, please!"

But I'm not listening. Or looking. I just start walking away, plugging my ears, even as I hear Sebastian grunt as he pulls the trigger, even as the gunshot rips through the air, even as I hear them scream one final time.

The last shard of my past is ripped out of my side, and now I'm a new person, ready to take on the world.

Epilogue

10 years later

What am I supposed to say about me and Sebastian? That we're married now? Because… we aren't. That we have tons of kids? Because… we don't. That we have tons of friends and family who love us, or will soon? Because… we just won't.

But that doesn't matter. Not really. Being married with kids and a happy, perfect family is not who Sebastian and I are, or will ever be. We're criminals in love, and nothing is ever going to change that. Nothing is going to split us apart, either, however. Sebastian and I are meant to be together. We complete each other, heal each other in ways no one else can. He is mine and I am his, and with him is right where I want to be.

No more secrets.

No more lies.

It's just Sebastian and me and our love for one another.

After that night, Sebastian and I fled the country. We left for an isolated house in Maine, and we've lived there ever since. We've found a way to put back together the shards of what we once were. We ended everything, and now we've disappeared to the rest of the world, slipped between the cracks, gone where no one else can find us. We're living in hiding and have been for ten years now, but it's not like we're ever going to get caught. No one is going to find us here, if the police are even still looking for us. And we're together. Together, forever.

Sebastian serves me a glass of wine as we sit at the small wooden table in the hut in Maine, smiling at one another. A few candles are positioned in the middle of the table, and a small fire burns in the corner of the room, making me feel so warm despite the snow falling outside.

"I propose a toast," Sebastian says to me, deep blue eyes trained on mine. He's wearing a t-shirt and baggy shorts, his dark hair a disheveled mess of curls across his head from the sex we had earlier. He's so much more relaxed than he used to be, so much less angry. We have nothing to fear anymore. We have nothing to hide. We just have each other, and I couldn't have asked for anything else.

He keeps smiling at me--a small smile, but so real and strong and beautiful. He smiles with such genuine happiness, it makes my heart feel warm. "A toast to ten years of living with you. And let me tell you, angel, they've been the best damn ten years of my life."

I raise my glass of red wine and clink it to his, grinning. A small radio is positioned in the corner of the room, and quiet melodies escape from it, mixing with the fire from the corner. Everything is so perfect here. So empty and cozy and just… just painless. It's perfect, really. A life with the man I love. After so many years of suffering, I've finally found happiness.

"To the shards of the people we once were," I say, raising my glass again. "And to each other, for putting them back together."

"To our shards," Sebastian repeats, clinking his glass against mine. He takes a sip and smiles at me again. The reflections of the flames dance on his face, more carefree than ever, and as I sit there, I find myself staring at him, just staring at him, and sighing because my life has turned out more perfect than I could ever imagine.

To Sebastian.

To love.

To happy endings, even in the gravest situations.

"I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you," I whisper after a minute, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes burn into mine, but not so much in a fiery way anymore. If anything, his eyes are warm, just warm, and it feels so good to stare at him again.

"I think the same thing about you every single fucking day, angel," he breathes, reaching out to touch his thumb to my bottom lip. I let him hold it there, as he looks at me and smiles harder, and then he reaches across the table and gives me a long, gentle kiss, so perfect I find myself not wanting it to end.

"I love you, angel," he whispers, moving his lips against mine, his rough skin brushing against the side of my face. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Sebastian," I whisper, kissing him back gently, and I mean it more than I've ever meant anything in the world.

I love him.

And as I sit here, with the classical music playing somewhere in the corner of the room, with the wind and snow howling outside, with us, tucked away in our warm little hut, off in the middle of nowhere where no one can find us, I know I really, really do love him.

We kiss for a few minutes, and I just relax, loving the feel of his lips on mine, the warmth and the tingles his touch gives me. Everything else fades away when Sebastian is kissing me, and nothing matters, nothing but him.

Finally, after a while, he pulls back. I breathe slowly, not taking my eyes off of his. I know by the flicker of a smile across his lips as our eyes lock that this is just the beginning of the foreplay.

And I would rather have it no other way.

I reach out to kiss him some more, to press my lips to his, when suddenly something hits me. I stop, and then I frown at him.

"What's your real name, Sebastian?" I say after a minute, curiosity getting the best of me. "I've never asked you before, and I realize it's the one thing about you I still don't know. But you can tell me now, right? You can trust me."

Sebastian stops then, winces internally, but in a sweet kind of way. "Angel, trust me, it is as embarrassing as hell," he says, his eyes narrowing in that playful, challenge kind of way.

"Tell me," I say, smiling at him. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

He sighs and takes a sip of his wine, watching me closely. Then he says, "My name is Richard. Richard Passini." He winces as soon as he says it, a little blush creeping across his face.

I laugh despite myself, because there is something truly amusing about a man as strong as Sebastian still mortified over a bad name, even since childhood. "That is a horrible name," I say to him, grinning. "No wonder you kept it a secret."

A sly smile flickers across his lips, and he leans out and kisses me again, warm and soft. "I know, angel," he whispers. "I know."

Thank you so much for reading Shards of Us! I can't thank you enough for giving this little book a chance. If you want to get in touch, you can find me on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/pages/KR-Caverly/185758821582376 or you can email at: caverlyauthor@gmail.com

Content

Shards of Us
K.R. Caverly

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue