She slid off the chair without a word and went to the guest room I’d shown her earlier. And with Mia asleep—because by the way she looked, she would be as soon as her head hit the pillow—I could do some digging into what else she was hiding.
* * *
Mia
Iwas exhausted as I locked and barricaded the door with a chair under the knob then climbed into the guest room bed and snuggled under the covers, fully clothed. Even though Nico could have killed me already if he’d wanted to, I had a hard time trusting anyone.
I’d studied more than just his photo before coming here. He liked numbers and algorithms, sometimes more than people. That didn’t make him oblivious to body language or interactions, at least not from what I could tell. Often, the quiet ones were deadliest. I was counting on that for my benefit.
Too tired to think about our tentative arrangement, I closed my eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. But it didn’t take long until anxiety built, manifested in my dreams, and caused me to toss and turn. The sheets tangled around my legs like vines, securing me in place and making me vulnerable to the monster outside my door.
Caught in a deep sleep in the midst of a dream that catapulted me to a dark memory, I tensed as a board, the one Ricco forgot about more often than not, squeaked. I couldn’t move. Like many times before, it felt as if a weight immobilized me.
A click sounded. The lock was released. Then a faint light pierced the inky darkness. My stepbrother had breached the one place where I should have been safe. I was desperate to spring from the bed and to safety, but I wouldn’t make it in time. I slid my hand under the pillow, curling my fingers around the knife I kept there. My breath escaped in small pants as my body tensed.
His steps were light. I eased the knife to the side of the pillow. My eyelids mere slits, I tried to maintain the illusion of sleep. The pounding of my heart was so loud that I feared he could hear it too.
I felt malevolence radiating from his body as he slithered through the darkness. He was close. I held my breath until I felt the brush of his hand on my arm, then sprang into action, arcing the knife and sinking it deep into him. The pressure on my prone arm left. His hand sliced up. Sharp pain exploded against my wrist. His blade never connected.
“You little bitch,” Ricco growled too close to my face, his hand gripping my wrist so hard that I dropped my only weapon.
I opened my mouth to scream as his other hand slapped over it in a punishing seal. Pain shot through my thighs as he held me in place by kneeling on me with one leg. He yanked my wrists together with a zip tie. Duct tape replaced his hand over my mouth. He hauled me out of bed. My back to his chest, I kicked wildly, connecting with his shin in a satisfying thud.
The more I struggled, the tighter his arm around my ribs became, restricting my diaphragm and lungs. He held a rag over my nose, and I tried to jerk back from the sweet-smelling liquid—chloroform. Spots peppered my vision, blocking the small light from somewhere in the hallway as I became increasingly disoriented. We were moving, my legs dangling uselessly several feet from the ground.
I tried, but the darkness spread the more I inhaled, my entire body tingling until I slipped into unconsciousness.
When I came to, it was to smooth leather beneath my cheek, a drug-induced headache, and the subtle movement of a car speeding down a road. A wave of dizziness swept over me, and I inhaled with measured breaths to dispel the effects of the chloroform.
There were no overhead streetlights. We had to have been on a highway. I took stock of who else was in the car. The passenger seat was empty. He’d thrown me in the back. The only good thing about it was the absence of the tape over my mouth, no doubt so that it wouldn’t leave a mark that he couldn’t lie his way out of if my father asked.
I shifted with careful movements, bringing my legs down to the floor mat and positioning myself behind him. That was when I noticed the black silk dress with sequins that I had on. Horror shot through me—he’d changed my clothes. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I repeatedly swallowed, unwilling to throw up and alert him that I was awake.
A renewed sense of survival filled me, and I blocked everything from my mind, inching close to his seat. Before he could stop me, I lurched and slipped my bound hands over his head. As soon as I had them lowered and positioned at his neck, I raised my knees and leaned back, leveraging my weight for maximum effect on his throat, choking him.
The car swerved. His hand grabbed mine and squeezed so hard that I thought the bones would snap, but I didn’t release the pressure. Brakes squealed, and the car jerked to the right then to a stop on the shoulder of the road. His hands dug into my wrists, wrenching me off before he pulled me forward and threw me over the seats. My back hit the dash with a painful thud. He threw the car in park as I scrambled for purchase, attempting to flip over and get my feet under me.
Ricco’s cruel gaze met mine before he pinned me down against the car seat, reaching for something on the passenger’s floor. I caught the glint of glass before he fisted the hair at my nape and forcefully tilted my head back. He pried open my mouth while I struggled. Vodka flooded my throat. I tried to spit it out, but he fought me as I gagged. I choked on the fiery trial of alcohol until it no longer burned.
The more that went down my throat, the weaker my struggle became. Danger flashed in my mind, and my pulse thrummed a subdued beat as he set the bottle down. My entire body shook. With the last of my strength, I struggled against him.
I balled my fist when he cut the zip tie and thrust upward. When it met solid contact, I didn’t stop—my only goal was to break free. Something buzzed in my ear. slicing through the blind haze of terror. The sound became progressively louder until I could make out the shouting.
“Mia!”
My open palm cracked against a face hovering inches from mine. Part of me registered it wasn’t Ricco, but the dream—the memory—had its claws in deep. Nico held my wrists loosely but tightly enough to stop me from hitting him.
With no hand over my mouth, I let loose the scream that had built from the moment Ricco breached the dream realm.
I knew it was a nightmare, but I couldn’t shake the sense of life-threatening danger of what I’d gone through at fifteen years old. Using Nico’s grip as leverage, I pushed sideways against his hold, trying to widen our arms and decrease the space between us. Then I whipped my head forward. My forehead collided with his in a dull thud as stars exploded behind my eyes.
I twisted, not letting it kill my advantage, attempting to break free. Strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me from the bed. Jolts of electricity traveled up my arms from the contact of his hands as he attempted to still me.
“Mia, goddammit! Stop.”
My surroundings trickled in, grounding me. There was no car, no road where my hated stepbrother had tossed me. My blood was free of alcohol.
The hammering of my pulse against my throat eased. Soft light spilled through the sliding glass doors as the sun crested the horizon. It was morning, not the dead of night, and I took comfort in the fact that the man who held me was Nico, not my despised and abusive not-brother.