Had we stayed there, had my father not sold his soul, my brothers might not be the monsters they were today. Maybe they'd be decent human beings. Maybe they wouldn't be cold-blooded killers.
“What is it?” Kara asked.
“Nothing.”
I turned and left the room, and she followed quickly behind me. I shut the door, trying to forget about the past and what might have been had my dad made different choices in life.
“Bathroom is right here,” I said, flipping the switch and surprised that the light came on.
Someone kept up the utilities on apparently. The bathroom was pretty average fare – toilet, sink and tub with a shower. No bells or whistles, but it was all clean. I was surprised that someone was really keeping up with things around the place. Which, given that it was old and unused, was strange to me.
I opened the only other door in the house – the one that led to the master bedroom. What used to be my parent's bedroom. The bed was much the same as I remembered, only with different bedding. A navy blue and white comforter covered the queen-sized bed, along with pillows in matching colors.
The room was smaller than I'd remembered it to be, with the bed taking up most of the space. A dark mahogany wood dresser sat against one wall, and two bedside tables completed the otherwise barren room.
So much was missing from this room – things I remembered, including the mirror above the dresser. I remembered it was the mirror my mom used to apply her makeup and do her hair in. There had been a radio that sat on the end table and played classic rock and oldies while mom prepared for church on Sunday morning.
I remember us kids would climb on the bed and watch her, as dad showered in the other room.
“I guess you can take the bed,” I said. “I'll take the couch.”
Kara didn't argue, not that I expected her to. She walked over and ran a hand over the comforter, then looked around the room. We both stared at the windows at the same time, and that's when I noticed the bars across them. She did too.
“It all looks so normal and quaint,” she said, speaking mostly to herself. “And then, I'm reminded that I'm actually sitting in prison.”
“It's not a prison,” I corrected her. “It's for your own protection.”
She side-eyed me. “You don't really believe that, do you? We both know that Killian is never going to let me get out of this alive.”
I swallowed hard. I knew she was right, but I didn't want to agree with her. Some primitive part of my brain feared that agreeing with her would make it a reality – and if she feared it was an inevitability, it might make her cooperating with me less likely. The last thing I wanted to do was keep her restrained, but if she fought me, I was going to have no choice. I needed to keep her here. I needed to keep her safe.
“We'll figure something out,” I said.
She scoffed, collapsing on the bed. Her hands were still tied, so she just rested them on her lap and stared at the ceiling, a look of sad resignation on her face.
“The only way I'm getting out alive is if you let me go,” she said and then met my gaze. “And let's be honest with one another here, you're not going to do that, are you?”
“No,” I said.
I licked my parched lips and walked closer to her. She sat bolt upright in the bed, as if she was afraid I was going to kill her right then and there and was prepared to fight. Reaching in my pocket, I pulled out a pocket knife and opened it up. She stared at the blade, her eyes clouded with fear, but her chin lifted in defiance. Her eyes slipped off the blade though, then looked straight up at me. She gasped when I grabbed her wrists with one hand and used the knife to cut through the rope. Her hands fell free into her lap, and she rubbed at her wrists as if they hurt.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I told you, you're not in prison,” I said softly. “Unless, of course, you try to escape. Then I'll have to restrain you. Please don't make me do that, Kara. I really don't want to”
She stared at me but didn't say anything in return. I sat down beside her on the bed. There really wasn't much I could say to ease her mind. She just needed to trust me. I needed to find a way to make her trust me. We'd figure something to get her out from under this mess.
First though, I needed to figure out a way to get my son back from Killian, then I'd let Kara go. But, it had to happen in that order. If Killian knew I'd let Kara go, willingly, I didn't trust what he might do to Jack. I wanted to believe my brother wasn't truly a monster, but that was hard. I'd seen the look in his eyes and it had left even me shaken.
He was a dark man. A bad man. I honestly had no idea what he might do, and I feared this had all been a setup – the fact that Crystal had showed up, out of the blue, and dropped a baby into my arms. Had Killian been a part of that?
It seemed to be a natural question to me, since the minute I'd stepped into his house with my son in my arms, he knew he had me. I wanted to believe that it wasn't pre-meditated, that he wasn't trying to force me back into the family. But it all worked out so well for him – according to his plans.
After all, there I was, keeping a prisoner against her will – against my will – all because my son was at his house.
Meredith was a good person. I had no doubt she'd take care of Jack and would never willingly do anything to put him in harm's way. It was only if I decided to back out of my dealings with Killian that I had to worry about something happening. I may not have known about the little guy until last night, but he was still my responsibility. He was still my son.
“What are you thinking about?” Kara asked. “Please tell me it's a plan that ends with me being alive, because that would be a relief right about now.”