Laiken

I'm taken to my bedroom by the guards. The lock on the door 'clicks' on the outside; the first time I've heard that sound. I'm reeling with the events. Pacing the room, I squeeze my arms into a pretzel. How could this happen? It's a catchall sentence for everything: my dad's escape without me, and Dominic's reveal as my enemy.

Remembering his scalding glare makes me shiver. I slide my hands up my arms, touching my shoulders where his hard fingers were. I can't believe how wrong I was to assume he'd help.

When we were young, I hadn't asked him to be part of any escape plan. He hadn't offered, either. Back then I'd been sure my release was just weeks away. Hell, I'd thought I'd be gone before Dominic's first holiday break from school.

He hadn't even come home. He's here now, though. But he's nothing like I expected him to be. Something has changed him, I tell myself. That's the only explanation. My memories about him aren't wrong—they can't be. He was kind. He was my friend. He's something else entirely now.

I traverse the room from one side to the next. I pivot, fingers drumming on my forearms. If I can't hold still, I'll stay busy. Opening my bathroom door I head to the sink. My skin is tight all over, like I'm an overheated grape. I could split apart any second. Running cold water I splash my face. My braid flips over my shoulder, the end getting soaked in the basin. I leave it.

Why did he come back? The question catches me by surprise. Not because I didn't wonder earlier when I saw him by his car, but because it shouldn't be at the forefront of my mind now. I should focus on my situation; what I'll do now that Dad is gone.

The bedroom door slaps open. It hits the wall stopper, bouncing back, and Dominic catches it. I lock up by the sink with the water still running. We can see each other through the doorframe. “Did you know?” he growls, his massive form advancing, blocking me in the bathroom.

I arch my head high, my braid falling back behind my shoulder. It rains water down my legs. “Know what?” I match his angry tone.

“That your father was going to escape tonight?”

Don't react, I tell myself. I continue glaring up at him. I wonder if I can win this contest. I don't know what's at stake if I lose, but it can't be good. “No, I didn't.”

Dominic leans closer. Our noses are an inch apart. He's quiet, hoping I'll breakdown under his intensity. He's done this before, I realize. It comes natural for him. He's an inked beast, ready to dominate anyone who challenges him. I'm almost done counting his eyelashes before he turns away. “If you didn't know, then why did you try to break out at the same time?”

I consider not responding. Give him something; he might go easier on you. “I overheard the code orange stuff.”

“And that, what, motivated you?”

“It was...” I flex my hands, too tired to fight my actual bitterness. “I saw a chance and took it. Can you blame me?” My chuckle is humorless. “I waited here all this time like a good little prisoner, and in the end, he runs off without me.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Not even a little bit.”

He stares at me then wipes his whole face with a palm. Something is bothering him. “They're not going to believe you're clueless.”

He means his parents. A painful lump moves down my throat. “Why does that matter?”

His head hangs lower. He reminds me of a bull about to charge. “Think about it. You and him met twice a month. What are the chances he kept you in the dark?”

A little fingertip of terror traces up my neck. “I seriously don't know anything.”

“That's hard to believe, Laiken.”

I'm breathing too fast—my lungs ache. I remember the day I sat with Silas, his scratchy fingers squeezing my chin. He'd told me I had nothing to fear, because hurting me was pointless. I was only leverage for my dad if I was safe.

My safety net is gone.

“Dominic, why did they send you up here?” I ask warily.

“I'm responsible for getting the truth out of you,” he whispers. Flexing his hands, he surveys the bathroom. It's small, and his presence makes it a tomb. When he shuts us in, the sound of the door is a clap of thunder in my veins.

Fuck. Fuck, what's he planning to do?

“Sit there.” He points at the toilet.

Bravery has been my shield all my life. But that strength was powered by my belief in others being there to catch me if I fell. I had many people in the beginning; my sister, then after she was taken away, I had Dominic. Something took him, too. My last security was my father and, without him, my confidence has taken a dive.

Moving slowly, I shut the toilet lid. He watches me the whole time. When I sit on it, he leans against the sink, considering me until I begin to squirm. “What matters the most to you?” he whispers.

“Going home,” I say automatically.

“No, what matters to you here. In this room.”

I work my jaw, feeling lost. “I don't care about anything in here. It's just a bathroom.”

There's no color in his eyes, just hollowness. “Yes, you do. Think harder.”

Squinting, I scan the white walls, the mirror, the grand bathtub... and then I get to him. A flutter attacks my heart. I smother it so my smile can be unkind. “If you're asking if you matter to me, the answer is no.”

He doesn't react. I wish he had. “You're getting closer.”

My back goes straight as a rod. He means me. “Yes, I obviously matter to myself.”

With a half-nod, he pushes off the sink. “Turn around.”

“What are you going to do?” Nervously, I wrap my hands around my braid. Counting the elegantly woven rows helps relax me. It makes me think of my promise to Kara. I wonder how long her hair is now, if she's beating me.

His attention goes to what I'm doing. “Turn around,” he growls again.

My muscles obey his instruction. I adjust on the toilet seat, showing him my back. I'm waiting for him to speak. He doesn't, his pointed silence making my ears ring. I strain to hear him because I'm desperate for a hint at his plan.

I see his shadow grow on the wall in front of me. His shoulders shift. I catch his arms rising. Is he going to strangle me? Would he go that far? It's awful that I don't know what to expect from him anymore.

His fingers slide through my hair. They start at the cap of my skull, inching down with an immense patience reserved for glaciers moving through the sea. I'm hyper-aware because of my fear. His nails scrape the base of my head sinking in, a gentleness that's out of place in this tense room. “You let it grow so long,” he whispers.

Warm breath caresses the curve of my ear. I shudder, but not from disgust. I want to lavish in hatred for Dominic. But my body has other ideas.

I've never been touched so intimately. He's doing nothing but brushing my hair with his fingers, and it's more enticing than if we'd kissed...than if we'd fucked. I know this, even though I've never done either.

Metal squeaks the cabinet over the sink. His arms are long enough that he can reach it without budging from my side. I start to turn my head, to check what he's doing, but his fingers bind into my hair and force me still. “What are you going to do?” I ask, my voice frail.

His presence behind me is an inferno. “I'm going to get the truth from you.”

My pulse quickens, it's a struggle to pull in a full breath. “Dominic, please.”

“Shh.” He strokes through my hair, undoing each loop of my braid like he's enjoying the experience. No rushing, just a luxurious sensation of him playing expertly with the brunette strands. All the while there's a cloak around us. Doom is tickling at the corners of my mind.

This feels good. So damn good.

And it shouldn't.

I close my eyes, but it's worse, because in the darkness his presence becomes more powerful. I'm transported to a place that consists of his scent, his warmth, his dominating aura, and nothing else. “I swear,” I say, “I told you everything I know.”

He glides his hand through my hair, the last loop tugging free. “I don't believe you.” Blood returns to my scalp, as the once looped hair swings free. The sensation makes my cells tingle. I do this to myself before I shower. Being fully untied from top to bottom always makes me smile.

It's different when he does it to me. I'm exposed. Vulnerable. He sweeps my hair aside, leaving my neck bared. I wonder if he can see my goose bumps. “Last chance,” he says, his tone flat. “Tell me what you know.”

The or else is left unsaid.

“I don't know anything! Dominic, I—if you're going to hurt me, just do it.” His grip loosens. He's listening to me, I press on quickly. “Whatever you plan to do is pointless. You can't get blood from a stone.” As I talk, my confidence grows. “Even if I did know, I'd never tell you. Got it? So you can chop off my hair.” I'm sure that's what he's plotting—he took scissors from the cabinet. There was nothing else in there.

I think of Kara; my eyes throb. “Rip me apart until all that's left for you in this room is your own guilt,” I say. “There's no answers for you here.”

A heartbeat, then five, six passes. Dominic takes in a greedy breath. His hand vanishes from my hair. “You sound a little too eager about the idea of being torn to shreds.”

I turn in place so I can see him. Oddly, there's no scissors in his grip. Was he faking me out? “I'm not suicidal.”

“Then you must figure you've got a future to live for.”

“Of course I do. Eventually I'll get out of here and make it back to Dad and the rest of my family.”

His mild smirk reminds me of his mother's; the time she got me to talk to her when I was trying to stay quiet. “What if I told you we already have him?”

I stiffen, all the wind going out of me. “That's not possible.” More than that, it makes no sense. Why—if they had him, what was Dominic spending his time fucking with me for?

“Caught him just before he got on a plane. Why would he risk flying, of all things?”

Confusion delays my response. “I—I don't know.”

“Guess he was itching to burn the money he stole from us. Ready to take a vacation on a little island somewhere.”

My father stole their money? This deluge of info rattles me. “He didn't tell me anything about that,” I insist.

“It doesn't matter.” He checks his phone, reading something—his smile is sickening. He knows he's won. “Do you think my parents will care if I give my guys the okay to break his legs? Can't run, that's a bonus. We can't damage his hands, he definitely needs those to—”

“No!” I scream, launching myself at him. “Don't hurt him! Don't you dare!”

Dominic manages to wrap his arm around me without dropping his phone. In a clean motion, he pins me chest first against the door's full-length mirror. His beard scratches along my temple, his whisper lava-hot. “I'll tell them to back off, but only if you come clean. Right now. And tell me everything about the plan you two had.”

“Okay,” I sob, going limp in his grip. “I... I did know he was going to escape.” Salty tears well in my eyes as the information floods out of me. “I was supposed to go with him. He never said to where. I didn't even know how he'd get me out!”

“And the money?”

“He never said a word about taking any money! I had no clue about a plane or an island or any of that, either. It's the truth, Dominic. Please believe me. Please, don't hurt him!”

I'm a sniffling mess when I lift my head. Through blurry eyes I see Dominic's stare in the mirror. There's regret in his expression, guilt in the edges of his subtle frown.

He sees me looking, and all his emotion melts away. He backs up as he releases me. “You aren't lying, are you? You really don't know where he is.”

My breath catches. “Wait,” I say thickly. I rub the tears away with the jittery heels of my hands. “Are you saying you don't have him?”

“We're still searching. This was an attempt to get you to reveal his hiding spot.”

I suck in great gulps of air. “You... you tricked me.” My head is pulsing, a migraine grappling me in a vice. “How could you do that? I was terrified, I was—I kept picturing him all bloody and hurt because you lied to me!” I slam my hands into his chest. The impact shakes my joints. For my effort, he's motionless as a boulder. “You piece of shit,” I seethe. “How could you hurt me like this?”

He holds my stare boldly. “I had to.”

“No. No one has to do something like this. Only monsters.”

Dominic flinches. He towers over me, but when I look at the black centers of his eyes, there's emptiness beyond the void. His muscles are a shell; the strength is purely on the surface. I think... if I tried... I could knock him over.

Something has broken inside of him.

Something I fear can't be fixed.

Swallowing loudly, he steadies himself. “If it was someone else interrogating you, someone other than me, this would have been worse.”

I press my molars together, searching for something to spit back. All I find is the tiny rational voice in my head. He did this himself... as a kindness. My limbs go slack. The righteous fury abandons me.

“But you're right.” He rips the door open. His final words reach me just before he exits my room. “I am a monster.”