“Wait” I cry, desperate to do anything to get out from under the barrel of his gun. “I’ll do the video! Please! I’ll do it!”
He throws me back to the chair, nodding for his men to come and hold me down as the video camera is brought out again. I’m overwhelmed with sudden dread as I calculate the likelihood that I will die in this mansion. I try to think of anything else to calm myself, but it’s no use.
“He has two hours to respond,” Thomas barks. “He puts a stop to this or you’re dead.”
I rub against the bulging veins in my neck as I try to steady my voice. He leans against the edge of his desk, adjusting his cufflinks calmly. He’s too confident. Whimpers escape my lips in between each breath.
My trembling fingers dig into the seat of the chair as I straighten my spine and brace myself, my leg bouncing uncontrollably with adrenaline and panic. I note my flushed, sweating skin on the screen as I gasp to control my breathing.
One of his men pushes the red button and flails his hand at me to start talking. I jump from my seat, desperate to wipe the tears from my face as I step backward, wanting to feel a wall behind me for security, but they quickly barrel toward me and fling me back to the chair as I cry hysterically.
I want to call for help, but I know that no one here will save me. My eyes dart around the room in desperation for anything that could inspire an idea for how to get out of this.
I gulp down acceptance. I have no other choice but try to plead for my father to save me once again. Feeling even more hopeless now than I did the first time.
“Dad, please,” my pitch spikes and cracks as I sob. “We don’t know each other, but I’m your daughter. And they will kill me. Just do what they ask.”
“Is that all you got!?” Thomas bellows from behind the camera. “This is your life on the line, Ophelia! Better make this one better than the last!”
“Please!” I scream out again at the top of my lungs. “Please, dad, I’m begging you! Stop all of this and let the Jamesons be! He’s not going to go down without taking me with him.”
I scream and cry every plea I can think of until they’re finally satisfied, taking the camera away again. As the recording stops, my muscles twitch and there’s a cold silence. All there is to do now is wait.
My heart races
in palpitations as adrenaline shoots through my body, and I think I might choke on my breaths…short and out of control. I can’t get enough oxygen and my limbs are tingling. My fingers and toes going numb. I think I might pass out as spots dance across my line of sight.
Thomas wipes down his pistol but doesn’t return it to the drawer. He keeps it close to his side. His eyes are glued to Emmett, and I can see him contemplating bringing up the issue of our involvement again. Emmett has braced himself against the wall, blowing sharp breaths from his cheeks.
“We’ll come back to you later, son,” he announces grimly. “I can’t have you making friends with the enemy. You know that.”
“Dad, I promise…,” Emmett tries to defend weakly, his voice trembling. “I didn’t…”
With one swift raise of Thomas’ hand, Emmett stops cold. Not bothering to say another word. No wonder he is so afraid to step in and help me. Why he never even tries to defend me. He wasn’t kidding. His father would kill him or make him do something terrible to me to prove himself.
Thomas has him completely under his thumb, and he’s too afraid to question him or go against him in anyway. For a second, I almost feel guilty for tempting Emmett. For putting him directly in the line of his father’s wrath. But remembering all of his inappropriate touches from before, I wonder if it even would have mattered how willing I was.
Thankfully, Thomas seems to let it rest again. Huddling with his cronies as they discuss what happens next, leaving me to try and control my crying. I hate that I let my last ounce of control slip. They saw me break down on camera. The composure I clung to the last time completely vanished this time, solidifying that when it comes down to it, they really can make me do whatever they want me to.
If time could just slow down somehow, or if I could just go back to a different time when I felt safe. But now, life feels like a broken hourglass in my hands, with the sand slipping through my fingers and blowing off in the wind. Time is running out. All I can do is hope my pleas appeal to something in my father.
22
Chapter Twenty-Two
The room stills as my cries slowly quiet, trailing off into nothing. I notice Bernadette perched in the corner of the room, looking bored. She pops her gum as her pastel pink nails flip across the screen of her phone. As fucked up as Emmett may be, at least he is feeling something in the middle of all of this. She looks completely apathetic and indifferent.
Thomas turns to his cronies and whispers instructions in hushed tones. They look to me with evil grins, nodding as he tells them what to do. I know he’s preparing them for the time to kill me. A time which I know is quickly approaching. I can feel the desperation in the air.
“Let’s hope this last performance inspires more than your last one,” Thomas announces to me coldly. “Makes no difference to me. I’m getting out of this one way or the other. It’s just a matter of how hard it will be on everyone else.”
He probably does have back-up plans galore. Anything to save his own ass, but I see the subtle panic in Thomas’s eyes. His life is just as much on the line as mine. If my father succeeds, he’ll be in prison. And for underage sex trafficking at that. An offense that I imagine all the other cons don’t take kindly to, with their own troubled daughters waiting for them on the outside.
I want to believe this video could save me, but given my father’s lack of response so far, I’m not hopeful. The most frustrating part about their entire plan is that it hinges on my father giving a shit about me enough to stop in order to save my life. He had to have known the risk he was taking by continuing, even after Vivian and the other Elites made sure he knew I had been uprooted to WJ Prep. If he hasn’t stopped before now, I have no reason to believe he’ll have a change of heart in time.
The room is tense, filled with impatience. I worry Thomas will grow restless and just shoot me before fleeing. I look to Emmett once more, but he’s still and silent. Doing nothing to intervene.
With a father like Thomas, I know his life has probably been fucked up in more ways than I could ever understand. But I have even less sympathy now that I have learned my father isn’t so different. Maybe he did me a favor by not being around.