Chapter 6

Cameron came back later that day. He found me at the hotel, his face a dark storm cloud. He didn't bother with words.

He slapped me.

The force of it snapped my head to the side, my cheek stinging, my ear ringing. The shock was so profound, it took a moment for the pain to register.

"Don't lie to me, Alicia," he snarled, his voice trembling with rage. "Hannah almost died. She could have died! All because of your sick, jealous game."

He grabbed my arm and started dragging me from the room.

"Where are you taking me?" I cried, struggling against his grip.

"You need to be taught a lesson," he said, his voice chillingly calm. "You need to think about what you've done."

He dragged me down a service corridor and shoved me into a small, windowless storage closet. The space was tiny, filled with cleaning supplies. It smelled of bleach and dust.

"Cameron, no!" I screamed, my voice echoing in the small space. "You know I can't... my claustrophobia... you know what happened to me!"

He knew. When I was eight, I was kidnapped and kept in a dark box for two days. The terror of that experience had never left me. He was the one who used to hold me when I had nightmares about it. He used to promise he would never, ever let me be scared like that again.

He ignored my pleas. The heavy metal door slammed shut, plunging me into absolute darkness. I heard the lock click.

The air immediately felt thick, unbreathable. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, wild bird trapped in a cage. The darkness was a living thing, pressing in on me from all sides.

The memory of the box, the smell of stale air, the suffocating terror, it all came rushing back. I remembered him, my childhood friend, finding me after I was rescued, his small arms around me, whispering, "I'll always protect you, Alicia. I promise."

A bitter, hysterical laugh escaped my lips. Protect me.

"Let this be a lesson, Alicia," his voice came from the other side of the door, muffled and distant. "This is what happens when you hurt people."

I slid down the wall, my body shaking uncontrollably. The tears came, hot and fast. I pounded on the door, my knuckles raw.

"Please, Cameron! Please, let me out! I'm sorry! Please!" I begged, my voice hoarse with terror.

A muffled voice, not Cameron's, answered. "The boss says you're to stay in there until he gets back."

"Where did he go?" I sobbed.

"Ms. Nichols took a turn for the worse. He's at the hospital. She wants to see him."

Of course. She always wanted to see him. And he always went.

His footsteps faded down the hall, leaving me alone in the suffocating blackness. The world narrowed to the sound of my own ragged breathing and the frantic drumming of my heart. I was eight years old again, trapped and terrified, with no one to save me. I curled into a ball on the cold floor, shaking, waiting for my mind to break.

I don't know how long I was in there. It felt like an eternity.

Then, I heard a sound. A key turning in the lock. The door swung open, flooding the small space with light.

I flinched, shielding my eyes. Two figures stood in the doorway. One was Atlas, his face a grim, stony mask.

The other was my father.

He took in my disheveled state, my tear-streaked face, the raw skin on my knuckles. His expression, usually so warm and loving, hardened into something I had only seen once before-the day he found out I'd been taken. It was the face of a man who would burn the world down for his child.

"What did he do to you?" my father asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Atlas knelt beside me, his eyes full of a pain that mirrored my own. He gently wrapped a blanket around my trembling shoulders.

I tried to speak, but only a choked sob came out. I collapsed into my father's arms, the last of my strength giving out.

The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was my father's voice, cold as steel, speaking to Atlas.

"Get her on the plane. And cut the Lawrence family off. No more information. No more support. Let them wonder what's coming."

He stroked my hair, his touch infinitely gentle. "I was waiting, letting him hang himself, for your sake, sweetheart. I wanted you to be the one to end it. But this... this is too much."

He looked in the direction Cameron had gone, and his voice was pure venom.

"He wants a wedding? Fine. We'll give him a wedding. A wedding he and his family will never forget."