My eyes dart to him, shocked, yet not. Deep down I guess I knew this was his motive and his feelings on where we should end up. I’m just not so sure anymore. The words I said in anger still ring true and my heart is telling me that a bond should be stronger than his father’s command. Can’t shift that disappointment in him, because I feel like he was too quick to give me up.
I’m a whirlwind of emotions and so much has happened in the last twelve hours that I need some time to let my brain catch up. I’ve been through trauma, changes, a whirlwind, and I need to process it all. I can’t tell which way is up, and I’m no longer in control of a single tiny thing in my own life. Not even where I’ll sleep tonight, let alone live tomorrow.
“Come. Please. You can’t say here in this mess, and we need to get you some clothes.” He stretches his hand to me extending his palm outwards and I brush it away.
“Why can’t you let me leave to figure this out of my own. This is the last place on earth I want to be.” Tears begin to fall as self-pity hits hard and I guess it’s because I’m physically and mentally exhausted too. This is not how I thought my life would go and from the day I turned, it’s been hell and heartache all rolled into one.
He exhales heavily, frustrated with me, and yanks me to my feet with a forceful lunge at my arms instead. Pulling me up despite my refusal. Taking charge and not in the mood for arguments.
“Listen to me. I need you to comply for a little while and we’ll figure this out, together. I don’t want you to go. When this settles I’ll go to the orphanage and pack up all your stuff, and we can talk out where we go from there; but right now, I need you to come with me and do as I say.” He has that edge to his voice I usually hear when he’s leading his pack around. It’s the don’t argue with me, commanding tone, of Prince. Santo.
What else can I do. I’m technically a prisoner here, with nowhere else to go. I’m on my feet, with a persistent pain in my ass bossing me around, in a house full of people who hate me. I literally only have him on my side to depend on, and only because the fates forced it. I have nowhere else, and if I’m being honest with myself, everything is too messy, my gifts too new, and my mental state a little too on the fragile side to be thinking about going anywhere alone. So, I nod reluctantly.
“Come on then. Stay close to me.” Colton turns and leads the way, sensing I don’t want or need him touching me and I do as he says. Staying right behind him, clutching my covering and wait while he grabs one, wrapping it on like a toga, and heads towards the door. If Carmen saw us now, naked with ripped bed sheets to cover our modesty, she would only assume the worst and I can’t imagine that going down well at all. Shuddering at the possibility she might see us.
Within seconds we’re in the hall, moving along the wide passage in semi darkness, due to all the boarded up windows and lack of lighting and he leads onwards, following some turns and a flight of stairs until we get to the floor below. I was put on the top floor in the far end of the house, away from everyone, and now we seem to be on the third floor, in a brighter corridor with doors all bearing names, and keypads on each.
Colton stops me with an arm, pushes me back around the corner we rounded and hushes me with a finger to my lips as two Santo pack members appear from a door opening, both walk out and head away from us, completely unaware of our presence. He makes us wait a second before leading the way again, halfway down the hall to the third door on the right and turns, using his hand on the pad, scanning his palm as it clicks open. His name’s on the door, so I guess this is his room.
“Why are we hiding if you’re taking me downstairs anyway?” I ask blatantly, composing myself since leaving that room and he slides an arm around me and shuffles me into the darkened space, pulling me in and closing the door behind us with a last outwards check of the hall. He walks off across the bedroom, towards a set of wooden doors in front of me, sliding them open to reveal wardrobes, and starts pulling out clothes in multiples of two. It’s dull in here thanks to boarded windows but light is shining through the cracks brightly now, illuminating enough, telling me daylight has come.
I follow him, taking in the almost Scandinavian, Ikea style, and minimalism of his room. He likes space, and neatness, with very few items cluttering it up. Neutral tones, light woods, plants and lots of floor, and open calmness. It’s clean and airy and almost obsessively organized.
“Carmen just needs to know I brought you in here and she’ll go nuclear. It’s best if I appear downstairs with you, where she’s contained, because frankly, my ears, and my head, can’t handle her gifts right now. She still thinks we have a future, and I need to talk to her about that.” He carries on focusing on clothes, his tone level as though he hasn’t just caused me pain with careless words.
It quietens me and that distant heartache and pang of jealousy finds its way back home to my stomach. In all this mess I was starting to wonder if our bond has been dented and if I was starting to feel differently about him. I guess I’m not that lucky, as my heart still seems very attached, despite everything. I’m mad at him, disappointed in him, but yet, I still yearn and love him. My soul still wants and needs him.
We dress quickly, although his clothes are baggy on me, and ill-fitting, but it’s better than showing up in a rag and a smile. Following him close to his heel, leaving his room, we make our way down another two flights of sweeping staircase and two other levels before we end up back where I caused such a scene hours ago. That sweeping final stair to the main entrance which is now immaculately calm.
It’s a lot cleaner and tidier now the debris is gone, and the front door closed, with the addition of several new heavy-duty locking mechanisms in place. The boarded glass panels are screwed on with braces over them for now, hinting that the threat of another attack is on Juan’s mind.
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