The number programmed into my phone burns my mind with possibilities. My thoughts clog with what ifs and maybes, all redundant because the sugar coating I give them is nothing like the truth. The truth is raw and dirty and shameful. In my head, I call Quinn and he admits to missing me as much as I miss him. He admits to the reason why he took me, and he comes back to London, and we start again, the same connection pulling us together, the same chemistry that exploded between us.

But that’s all in my head. The reality and my own fantasies blur more and more with each day. And Josh is to blame. He planted seeds of doubt and hope with his words, and I haven’t been able to forget them.

I should be getting out of bed and heading to the studio, but I can’t face it today. And I still have to decide if I should meet Josh. Yesterday morning that would have been an easy question to answer, but now I feel divided. He’s been kind. He didn’t need to check in on me, but then again, why would I trust him?

I’ve never been one to mope around feeling sorry for myself, but that’s what I’m reduced to. I feel lost, like I don’t know what direction I’m travelling in anymore or if I’m even the same person I was.

Hours roll on, and I can’t focus. I’m trapped by wanting something I know I can’t have. I want the Quinn who existed in mere glimpses, showing me that he’s there under all the harshness, threats and steel he’s built around him. Just enough for me to latch on to and drive myself crazy. I imagine him as a child. Innocent and carefree playing with his brothers. Before he got that scar and sunk himself into the underbelly of society that he now calls business.

I pick up my phone and with a rush of adrenaline, fire a message to Quinn.

Tears catch in my throat as I force them not to fall from my lashes. I shouldn’t miss him. How can I miss what he did to me? Anger and frustration replace the adrenaline, and give me a moment to think clearly. I head for the shower to freshen up. I can’t do anything sitting wrapped in my dressing gown.

The hot water brings a comfort I immediately recognise, and I let it suffuse around me. I need to get some air. Some perspective. Maybe I should visit Mum and Dad. Keep my mind off of the last month. But I’ll have to re-schedule the few appointments I’ve managed to get booked.

I opt for something far easier to try and conquer my mood—taking photos. It always lightens my spirit and turns my attention back to the good that’s in the world. I push aside the pang in my chest at leaving the camera and the shots I took in Chicago. It might have only been for a few minutes, but that day was special.

I dress in warm clothes and wrap up with a scarf and hat. The studio camera is locked safely at work, so I grab my old 35mm from my room, more like an antique now, and head out. The Nikon was one of the first cameras I owned, and luckily Jenny didn’t find it in the box under the bed. I haven’t used it in years, and it might not even work, but I need to give it a go.

The light isn’t special, and the day is classically grey and cloudy, but I feel more like me than I have in days. My cheeks have pinked up, and I have life back in my blood.

My phone stays quiet in my pocket while I’m out. I’m not sure if I want Quinn to return my silly text or not, but I refuse to be disappointed if he doesn’t. He gave me a choice, and I took it. This is of my making, and although I might not understand everything that happened over the last few weeks, I need to accept it and move on. Coming to terms with my ordeal and the resulting emotions is a priority, and I decide to seek out a counsellor next week.

No sooner have I hung my coat and scarf in the hall than the doorbell rings. I keep the safety chain on before opening it.

Josh smiles at me warmly, as if he’s expected. “Hello, Em. I hadn’t heard from you, so decided to save you the trouble of finding your way to mine. I have a car.” He points to a black Mercedes parked a few spaces down the street.

“Josh, I wasn't expecting you. I’ve just got in, actually, and wanted to text you to apologise that I won’t be able to—”

“It’s not anything special, Em. Come on. I know you want the company. I’ll wait here for you.” He crosses his arms and smiles again.

“Okay, just let me get my things.” The door’s still on the safety, so I shut it and dart into the front room. The thought of going to Quinn’s old home lights me up inside. The lure is too fierce, and Josh has been nothing but courteous since I arrived home. It might not be wise for my mental health to maintain a link to a relationship I’m pining for, but right now, I don’t care.  

I grab my phone and fire a quick message to Quinn.

I grab my bag and take my coat off the hook before venturing out.

“Great. Shall we head out? It’s about an hour’s drive to the old place.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“No trouble. It’s all ready. Besides, I don’t want you to miss out on seeing more of the Cane family history.” He opens the passenger door and waits for me to get in. He rounds the car and climbs in, starts the engine and pulls away.

The journey through town is slow due to traffic, but when we clear the city, we make better time. There’s still something that doesn’t sit right regarding Josh, but I tap down on my overreaction until there’s something more concrete. Right now, I need to be calm. Plus, I’ll be able to find out more about Quinn.

“When did you move from London?”

“When we were kids. Quinn must have been ten or so. Dad’s business was expanding. He needed to be in the states, or so the story goes.”

“And you kept the property all these years?”

“We had an old family friend, a caretaker if you will, who looked after the place. Neither Dad nor Quinn liked to get rid of anything that was Cane property. Something to do with their God complex, perhaps.”

Josh may jest, but I know he doesn’t mean his words to be taken lightly. From what I’ve seen, Quinn does play God over Josh’s life, and rather than share things with his brother; he pushes him to the side.

The roads get narrower, and trees and fields replace the houses. It’s certainly out of the way. Josh turns into a long drive and heads up to a handsome house. It’s nothing as grand or impressive as the mansion back in Chicago, but a large detached property with plenty of privacy.

“Here we are.” Josh parks up and heads towards the door. He holds it open as I step over the threshold. “Let me take your coat.”

The entrance is dark, and there are few lights on inside. A single light bulb hangs from the pendant in the hallway, showing up dust specs in the air. All it needs is a chill and the abandoned house stereotype would be complete. The hallway is open, with high ceilings and parquet flooring throughout. A sweeping staircase sits to the right, with spindle banisters, and a dark-red carpet runner up the centre. Doors are ajar on either side of the entrance, but Josh leads me towards the back and into what turns out to be the kitchen and dining area.

Vibrant aromas of tomato and garlic assault my senses and remind me of eating with my parents. A homey feel replaces the eerie sense I got in the hallway.  

“I hope spaghetti is alright for you? I had Rebecca start things off. I think I’m capable of boiling the pasta.”

“Sounds lovely. Who’s Rebecca?” I ask, wondering who this might be.

“She’s the wife of Nigel, the caretaker. They live on the next road and look after the place.”

“I’d love to have a look around.” I peer back out into the hall, trying to imagine Quinn and his brothers playing as children.

“How about a drink first. Wine?”

“Um, sure.” My smile is hesitant. I’m not a big drinker and the last thing I want is to get too tipsy.

The oval table at one end of the kitchen is set for two, but it’s the photos hanging on the wall that entice me. Three grainy colour photos of boys of varying ages playing in fields hang in plain frames. It’s clear who Quinn is without even trying to identify him. He stands taller than his brothers, the centre of all three photos, and he’s smiling, carefree and happy as any child should be.

My heart aches for him as I think what his life could have been if his family had been different—away from the gangsters and shady business dealings that seem to rule his life now.

“Wine.” Josh hands me a glass of red and I watch him take a large mouthful, and his eyes flash down to my glass expectantly. I bring it to my lips and take a tiny sip. “Sit. I can show you the place after we eat.” Josh pulls out a chair for me, and I ease myself down.

“So. What were you all like growing up?”

“Oh, the usual. Out getting into mischief.” His answer is vague and disappointing. I want details like favourite toys or games. What Quinn’s hobbies were.

Josh busies himself in the kitchen, stirring the pan and watching over the pasta. My eyes roam around, and I can’t shake the anxiety that’s swept over me. Josh has been nothing but polite, but he also makes the hairs on the back of my neck pay attention, and not in a good way. I sip my wine and practice my patience.

He returns in a few moments with two steaming bowls of spaghetti. “Here. Bon appétit.”

“Thank you, it smells delicious.” I haven’t eaten much all day and am starting to feel light headed. The wine wouldn’t have had time to hit my system yet, and surely a couple of sips wouldn’t have affected me like this. I put the wine down and wait for Josh to start before sinking my fork into the noodles of saucy pasta.

We eat for a short while in silence. I’m happy to enjoy the food rather than make polite conversation. The draw of coming here to find out more about Quinn has lessened with the anxiety that has started to simmer in my blood.

“Have some more wine.” Josh tops up my barely touched glass and I take another sip. The pasta is delicious and the first proper food I’ve eaten in a few days.

“I can’t remember much of this home. We left when I was so young. Of course, Nate and Quinn don’t talk about the past. It’s one of those topics that we all know to keep clear of.”

“That’s a shame. I got the impression you were all close?” My attention grows and I try to encourage Josh to keep talking.

“Oh, we’re close. But there are things that we just don’t discuss. We share most things. Quinn is generous when it comes to the perks of the business.”

“He pays you? I didn’t realise you had a job with Quinn. I thought that’s what you were arguing about?”

“I have money. Quinn sees to most of my expenses. Cars, booze, drugs, anything I want, it’s mine. Girls.”

My fork stills at his mention of women. I force my hand to keep moving the food towards my mouth, open, close and chew. The last thing I want is for Josh to see he’s rattled me so easily.

“More wine?”

“None for me. I’m not a big drinker.” My glass is nearly overflowing so I take another small sip.

“Shame.” Josh tops up his glass.

Despite the food, my head still feels light, and my eyes suddenly feel like I’ve been awake for a week. I blink, focussing and fidgeting in my chair to shake myself awake.

“It’s unusual for Quinn to have a girl at the house for more than one night. Even more unusual for him to keep her to himself.” Josh’s lips curve into a sleazy smile, and the anxiety that I had kept under control is let loose and pumping around my body, adding to my groggy head.

“How did he fuck you? Did he tie you up and force you? I’d have liked to watch that.”

“You know, I think I’m done here.” I stand, but only just manage to stay upright. My head swims as I stagger along the hallway, dizzy and confused, grabbing my coat as I pass. I slam my hand down on the door handle and smack right into the wooden frame. It’s locked. My anxiety explodes into full blown fear as I realise I’m trapped here with Josh.

“Em, why the rush to leave? We were just getting acquainted. Isn’t this how Quinn did it? Wine and dine you before fucking you?” I dump my coat and flee up the stairs, taking two at a time, my muscles draining of energy before I’ve even reached the top. “Oh, you’ve just made this so much more fun!” Josh shouts, and I can hear the edge of crazy in his voice.

I turn left at the top of the stairs and into the second door on the left. A bedroom. I close the door as softly as I can and look around the dark room before rushing to the window. There’s a slanted roof below which leads into the back garden, so I quickly work to throw the window open before crawling under the double bed.

I take a few deep breaths and force my heart to return to a reasonable beat. The cold breeze sweeps through, chilling my skin and sending goose bumps over my arms.

The room is quiet. The only sound is my breathing, deafening my ears in the confined space. I hold my breath and try to listen to any noise coming from outside. I didn’t have time to look around to see how big the upstairs is. Four bedrooms maybe? I close my eyes and pray Josh picks another one to look in first, and that he believes I’d try to escape out of the window.

Minutes pass. At least, it feels like minutes. Still nothing. The room grows colder as the air continues to whistle in, the smell of the damp evening freshening the musty scent in the room.

“Emily… Emily… come out, come out wherever you are.”

The door opens, and I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, not wanting to see him come in. I hold my breath, but this time it burns in my chest making my lungs bleed with pain. The not knowing where he is gnaws at my stomach and I give in, opening my eyes. I can see the tips of his shoes walk around the bed and stop to the left in front of the open window.

“Huh, well, perhaps that’s what Quinn saw in her. Feisty little thing. You can’t run, Emily. Quinn might not want to share you, but he’s not here now!” He bellows the last part out of the window, and I thank heavens he took the decoy. My mind races with what my next move will be. I left my bag in the hallway with my coat. I’ve no phone or way of letting anyone know where I am. Déjà vu haunts me.

“Nice try, Em, but I don’t take you for the adventurous type.” Josh drops down next to me, reaching his arm under the bed and swiping at me.

“Arghh.” I roll away, kicking at him as I crawl out the other side. Josh scrambles over the bed and reaches for me. He grabs my hair, but I lash out and smack him in the face before I reach for the door and rush out. The top of the stairs comes into view, but I feel him grab my ankle at the same time. It sends me off balance, and I stumble forward. With nothing to catch me, I land on my hands and fall down the stairs, tumbling down and landing hard on my side at the bottom.

It takes me a minute to right myself. Pain flares through my shoulder and head as I try to stand. Steady footsteps force me upwards, but I slump back to my hands and knees and crawl into the room closest to me, hoping there’s another door or way out. My head pounds against my skull and my vision skips in and out as I make it further inside the room.

“Is this what big brother had to do? Fight you into submission? Not his usual style. High-class hookers are what he usually favours. And although you have tits to fucking die for, I’m not seeing anything else. Do you have a magic pussy? Is that it? Do you fuck like a dirty whore?”

I block out his words and pull myself along the dusty carpet on my forearms. I’ve survived this before; I can survive it again. But as I think the words, I know I won’t. Quinn and I were… different. I’d already fallen for his charms before the nightmare began. I gave myself to him, even though the shame may eat me alive, it was my choice. This isn’t. And I’ll fight it every second, just like I did the Russians. Whether I’ll find my way out of this is another question entirely.

Josh’s hands push against my back, forcing me into the carpet. He twists my arm, wrenching my shoulder, and another shock of pain radiates through me. I struggle, whipping my good arm around to make contact with his face and turning onto my back, but I’m as much use as a wet rag. I barely hit him.

He straddles my hips, his weight forcing me to still. “That’s better.” He pins my arms out to the side and brings his face close to mine. “I’ve enjoyed our little game, but understand this. I’ll take what I want from you, and it won’t be anything like dear ol’ brother. He gave you up. That means you’re fair game now and I intend to have some fun.”

“Please, Josh. Don’t do this. I don’t want this.”

“Shhh, but I think you do. I think this is what you want.” He traps my wrists in one hand and sets about tearing at the button to my trousers.

I thrash my hips and my arms, trying to shove Josh’s weight from me, but it doesn’t work. He shoves his hand inside my knickers and gropes at me. He’s rough and harsh and he tears at my delicate flesh, forcing his way inside of me.

Tears track down my face as I cry. “Stop it, please… Don’t. Don’t do this,” I scream. Bile rolls in my stomach as he continues to dig his fingers inside.

No, no, this can’t be happening.

I feel weak and feeble. When Quinn and I fought, I found the strength I needed and that’s what I need now.  

He loosens his grip on my wrists and plants his palm on my shoulder as he leans into me. His other hand goes for his buckle, the sound of his belt loosening showing he intends to carry out every last word he’s said.

Pressure builds in my shoulder as he leans into it. The pain flares as his strength overwhelms me, my breath catching in my throat as I try to process what’s happening.

“You’re my fucking bitch now.” His sneer lights up his face as pain burns through my body. “I’m going to shove my cock in each of your holes and you’re going to take it.”

“No… no… Josh, please,” I sob, before giving one last surge of strength to dislodge him and escape. He removes his fingers, but only so he can smack me around the face. The heat fires across my cheek and throbs, dulling the ache from the rest of my body.

At least his hands have left me now, but then I see why. He flicks out a blade that gleams even in the dim light. My heart races and the fear that floods me threatens to take over. I look at Josh and try to see something of his brother in him. I’d do anything to be back with Quinn right now. I shouldn’t have asked to come home. I should have stayed and forced more from Quinn.

“Stop it, Josh. No. No! You’re hurting me… Josh!” My panic infects my muscles and I thrash under him.

“Now, keep still, or I might cut you.” He grins, the white of his teeth shining in the darkness and making him look as mad as he’s acting. He runs a knife against my blouse, cutting the buttons free. He then digs the tip of the blade into my cami top and pulls down. The tearing noise fades into the background as I feel the hard edge pinch against my skin. It bites, and heat follows the line of the blade.

“Well, fuck. I made a little scratch.”

I turn away from him and squeeze my eyes shut. My body is in agony, screaming for relief.

“No, I want you to watch, bitch.” He pushes the blade into my cheek, forcing my eyes to open up. The blade feels wet, and I can smell the tang of metal. He pulls the knife against my skin and again, it bites before heat replaces the cold metal. I try not to cry, but the searing pain across my cheek is too much. My mind flashes images of what must be a ghastly cut on my face and I pray I’m overreacting. Somewhere inside of me I know Quinn would never have done this to me. I might not have realised that right away, but on that day by the river, we both trusted each other.

I hold onto that memory. The first time there was anything concrete between us, something real for him. Being with him has given me an inner strength I need to use now. I take a few deep breaths and try to remain conscious, but my mind swims in and out of clarity.

“Quinn always shared the whores he fucked. It was a Cane perk. He’d arrange for us all to fuck them. Pass the skirt around. We’d all get high and drunk and fuck all night. I knew it was different with you the minute he hit me. After everything I’ve done to prove myself, that’s how he repays me. Well, I’ll show him.”

“H-he won’t like this, Josh. He’ll be mad at you.” I stammer the words together, hoping to give him pause.

“He doesn’t give a crap about me. Never has. All I’ve ever wanted is to work beside him and Nate as their brother, help run the business that is my name. But oh no. Quinn won’t let me near his precious empire.” Josh leans in closer, studying the incision on my face. “He pushed me away, Em. Tossed me aside again and again, when all I wanted was for him to be proud of me. That’s all I wanted. Is that too much for me to ask?”

I shake my head as best I can, trying to placate him.

“Well, it’s too late now. He thinks he can shove me out the way, then he can pay the consequences.”

Josh starts eyeing up my body and my skin ripples with disgust. The fabric of my clothes hangs loosely at my side, my body open to him. I don’t want him to cut me any more, I need to kick my brain into gear and work out a way to escape.

“You have really pretty skin. It looks so tender.” He makes another pass with the knife, pressing in hard enough to pierce the skin and drawing a snake-like pattern down my chest to my stomach. The sting from the cut throbs. My whole chest feels like it’s covered in cuts. Josh leans in, watching his handiwork as he traces the lines again and again. The tip of the blade runs over the flesh of my boob, close to the nipple. His weight shifts and gives me a fraction of room.

My right arm is still outstretched, and I force it to feel for anything I can use as a weapon. There’s a fireplace next to us. My fingers edge inch by inch, searching until I feel something hard and cool. I wrap my fist around it and swing.

An ear-piercing clatter startles us both before I arc my arm and hit him with the metal object in my hand. A loud thud signals my strike and I feel Josh’s body go limp and stumble away from me a little. I don’t leave it to chance and clobber him again.

He slumps to the side, and I push him further from me. He sprawls out on the carpet, his legs and body resting near the entrance to the room. I slide myself back on the carpet until I hit another wall. I clutch the metal fire poker in my hand and bring my knees up to my chest. I cower in on myself, but right now I don’t have the capacity for bravery.

Tears track down my face and cause the cut to sting even more as the salt mixes into the wound. I want to wrap myself up, but I’m afraid to look at what Josh has done. The slight tickle of liquid seeping down my skin tells me I’m still bleeding, but I can’t look. Looking will mean I have to acknowledge what he’s done. My bleary eyes lock onto the doorway where Josh’s body lies motionless.

The gentle tick-tock of a clock comes into focus and I concentrate on the sound. Terror rules my body, but the regular sound stops me from going into panic. My mind shuts down to my fear response and I’m only just hanging on to reality. The pain I felt a few moments ago is fading to a dull ache as I focus on nothing else but Josh’s body. I need to be ready. I can’t let him touch me again. I can’t let anyone touch me again.