By giving up, I’ve failed her. I was always the one with the tougher exterior, but the horror I faced in the hidden cell has destroyed every wall I thought I had. His stale breath, his vacant different coloured eyes. The scar on his chest mocking me with Avery’s strength where I was floundering, unable to defend myself the way I thought I could. Clearly this is the fate I am due, one way or another this hidden dungeon to be the last place I will ever see.
“Megan,” Nixon hisses at me once again. He hasn’t once asked if I’m okay, all of his focus on Avery, which has given me lesson 101 on ‘Life as Wyatt’. I get he’s not a proper dad to me, no matter what my DNA says, but still – I thought he’d at least attempt some useless small talk. Rolling onto my back with a sigh, I stare at the shadows cast over the ceiling by the outside lanterns. My tears have long since dried, two crusted streaks lining my cheeks. My body feels light and weighted down at the same time, an overriding numbness beginning in my chest and expanding until my arms hang limply by my side. “We need to find a way out of- “
“There is no way out,” I admit, my bland tone hiding my sense of defeat. I tried and failed, but that’s not to say Perelli has won. There’s still one way I can ensure he feels cheated, my last opportunity to wipe the smug smile off his face and I’ve already put the wheels in motion with the untouched tray of muesli and yoghurt by the cell door. It’ll take ages and hurt like a bitch, but it’s the only part of my life still in my control.
Eventually Nixon realizes he won’t get any more conversation from me and leaves me to wallow in my self-pity in peace. Scuffles on the steps come and go, the door hatch opens, and my untouched tray is replaced with another, concerned mutters are passed before the main door is slammed closed. My body clock is so out of whack, not knowing if it’s day or night, thunderstorms or sunshine. There could have been a nuclear missile sent to the moon or an apocalypse happening for all I know, while I lay silently forgotten in the dark.
My eyes start to droop, exhaustion from doing absolutely nothing trying to pull me under. Drifting into a half consciousness, an ethereal image of Cathy awaits me. Her brown hair and cream chiffon dress billow in an imaginary wind, a welcoming smile on her perfectly painted lips. She stretches her hand out towards me but for some reason, I hesitate. I’m aware there’s nothing worth holding back for, but deep in my soul I feel like there is some unfinished business I need to take care of before I fully give in. Before I can delve into exactly what that is, footsteps before my door rouse me.
The metal clang of my chain being shifted rings throughout my cell, light clinging to a figure who welcomes himself inside and closes the door back into place. Sliding my metal tray aside with his foot, I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling as he shifts closer without a word. A thick, insanely soft blanket is laid across me and unfortunately my limbs are too weak to shove it off. I hadn’t realised quite how much of the floor’s icy touch had coiled itself into my skin, but the trace of warmth easing over me causes my body to shiver violently. Strong arms scoop me up like a rag doll and pull me into his firm chest, the solid beat of his heart beneath my cheek.
I don’t want to like it, I shouldn’t let myself remain, but I must be weaker than I thought. After tugging the blanket into the shape of my body, his hands hold me gently like the most precious belonging in the world. Because let’s face it, even though he is the reason I won’t ever see daylight again, Wyatt’s the first and last man I’ve ever felt a genuine pull to and for that reason, a part of me will forever belong to him. Even if I do want to take a spade to his stupid, pretty face right about now.
“Things aren’t…as clear as they were when I brought you here,” he whispers beside my face, his lips too close to my lips.
“Was that meant to be an apology? Because it sucked harder than me, and as you know that’s saying something.” My voice is raspy, a roughness to my throat akin with swallowing a shitload of sand. His intoxicatingly manly scent wrapping around me in a second embrace makes my head feel light as I inhale deeply. He is sin personified. The type of character an ordinary girl would run screaming from, yet I’m being drawn closer. Like a moth to a flame, I want to be scorched and consumed by his touch.
“Is that what you need from me, an apology? Or would you rather I reserved my energy to save you from this place?” he tilts his head forward to search my eyes for an answer.
“I don’t need anything from you. I’m a fucking warrior, so pull up a chair and grab a tub of popcorn while I save myself.” He chuckles against my forehead, his luscious lips in the focal point of my eyeline.
“Trust me, Meg, I know you’re a warrior. But warriors don’t fight alone.”
