Page 19 of Under Her Skin

The scheming begins. Coming up with hundreds of strategies and then methodically thinking it out, and realizing they are all crap. Frustration takes hold. The pacing starts. I have nothing to help my nerves, nothing that will help me think everything out. What I wouldn’t do to paint and dump all these emotions onto the canvas. Maybe then I could fucking plan this shit out.

Snarling at my lack of solutions, my fingers wind into my hair ready to yank it out. I jolt to a stop. Gah, so dumb Ava! It hits me; it's so simple, of course. I keep my farce of ‘loving’ Kiel’s disgusting attention and play the part of the perfect woman who wants … noneedshim. Then, he will lax his guard. Not only drop his guard with me, allowing me to get closer to him, but he might lax his guards who watch me like dogs.

This is a long game. Can I wait this long? Maybe I can trick one of the guards - convince him a stroll to the kitchen would be beneficial for my health and allow me to pick out my own meal. There are pros and cons. I need this plan to work. I’m desperate to leave here. I know the obstacles after getting free from this mansion of misery are still there, but one fucking thing at a time.

Slowly, I go over how and when, knowing that the guards are lighter in the evening. More importantly, that sadistic day guard will be off shift and sleeping, which helps ease my mind. Decision made. Once I see the moon high in the night sky, I will knock on my door and humbly request a late night snack. I pray the night sentry will fall for my woe-is-me act. Since most of the house is asleep, I can use that as a pro for letting me walk to the kitchens under his watchful eye. Once there, I hope that my stealth along with my bashfully compliant behavior, will relax his attitude, allowing me to hide a deadly weapon.

This idea has merit.

Dinner is brought to me. Putting the plan into action, I allow the staff to bring in the dinner. Standing in the far corner of the room, gazing out the window, I slump my shoulders and rub my stomach, groaning and mumbling nonsense. The person who brought the dinner cart stops to look at me. I wipe my forehead, fanning myself giving the illusion that I am unwell.

I wait for them to come grab the meal that I purposely left untouched. They arrive while I am bundled under layers of bedding pretending to be asleep. The sun slowly sets; the hours pass by at a snail's pace, but I know that I need to get my wits about me. This is for my freedom. I can do this. Taking a deep breath, I peek from beneath the mounds of cloth surrounding me. The sky is pitch black, stars twinkle in the sky.

I quietly tiptoe to the door, putting my ear against it. Maybe through the thick wooden door I could hear that the house had finally settled. But there is nothing. Grinding my teeth at the expensive door, I shake it off and remind myself: ‘You are meek. You are playing a role. But you will survive this’. Taking a breath to get in my persona, I gently twist the knob.

As the door cracks, the guard on duty whips around. “What are you doing?” I thank my lucky stars that it is the nicer of the guards - not sure what that says about the sadistic assholes Kiel has on staff, but at least he doesn’t threaten me right off.

Forcing my voice to crack, I ask: “Ca-can, I have a meal? My stomach is feeling much better.” Standing there staring at my toes, I don’t want to give my ill intent away with a slip of an expression. Dragging my toes against the plush soft carpet, wanting to give the illusion of being compliant. “I … um don’t think I can wait ‘til morning. I p-promise to be on my best behavior.”

I hear his sigh of frustration more than see it, then he grunts. “Fine. Follow me.” I subtly nod my head in agreement, internally jumping with excitement. Tapping it down, I wait for him to start walking before following him.

When we make it to the kitchen, he flicks his wrist in the direction of the pantry. “Help yourself but do so quickly. You will eat in your room.”

Softly smiling at him, I whisper a “thank you.” Deciding on a sandwich, I duck into the pantry to grab the bread and the chips. Dropping the dry goods on the counter, I quietly and frantically search. I find nothing in plain view, letting out a breath when I finally spot what I need.

The knife block is sitting just to the right of the coffee machine. Turning, I pull out a plate and ask the guard: “Can you grab the meat and cheese from the fridge?” As he opens the fridge and dips out of sight, I take my chance. Lightning fast, I grab the knife, lifting my shirt and tucking it into the waistband of my panties, before quickly re-tying my robe as he pops back up with his findings.

Anger flashes over his features, “You whore,” he growls. “You lied.” He tosses the sandwich fixings on the counter, stomping towards me with malice rolling off him in waves. I turn to protect myself from his attack as he reaches for me, squeezing my eyes tight and waiting with bated breath for the first hit of violence, but hoping that maybe he will just snatch me up, drag me back to my room, and not beat me.

No pain. No rough hands. Nothing. Then a muted thud reaches my ears. I whip around, eyes rounding, my head snaps up to the person standing behind him. The air fumbles from my lungs.

It'shim.

Taking a step back, bumping into the counter, I look at the slumped guard. Vermillion spills from his neck, coating the floor slowly seeping out. I feel no sorrow for the loss of this soul.

The stranger steps over the body, gently places his hand on my elbow to steer me out of the kitchen. No words are spoken as we make our way back to my gilded prison.

The door is in sight when he quietly whispers: “Keep your head on a swivel. Don’t let your guard down. Your wits are imperative to your survival.”

I stumble at his directive, mumbling more to myself than him: “What?”

Reaching my door, he opens it and gently pushes me. He stops just shy of closing the door. “Don’t make any moves that will risk your survival. Until youknowit’s the right time, and then do what it is you must to live.”

“Thanks,” I hurriedly muttered as he shut the door, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened. Knowing it’s best to take his words to heart, I rush to the bed and hide my newly acquired weapon. Tucking myself into the bed, I reach up, sliding my hand between the mattress and the headboard. I wrap my hand around the warmth of the wooden knife handle. This small comfort alleviates some of my fear … now to plan and wait.

18

CAL

Landing on a small undisclosed airstrip, the Giovanni brothers and I double check then triple check our gear. This is nothing new. We have done this thousands of times. The normal steady feelings are nowhere to be found, replaced by the pure rage and determination to hunt Kiel down. These emotions pump adrenaline into my veins. One mistake. One thing doesn’t go according to plan - this all goes to shit.

“You good, man?” Chase questions with a pat on the back. I know what he’s asking.

Shaking my head, I throw his comforting hand off and grunt. “Yep, mother hen. I’ve bounced back. Doctor cleared me, so fuck off.”

Chase chuckles at my words before turning serious. “I know,” he hesitates. “I’m just not sure what we’ll find there.”

“Get fucked.” I growl at him, throwing the rest of my gear in my bugout bag. I stomp off as I throw it over my shoulder. “Her being in his hands..” I pause, shuddering at the reminder. “It’s my fault … what he has done to her is my fault.” Taking a few steps, I stop. “I will fix this and patch every single fracture and broken part of her soul.” Chase and the other brothers listen silently to my intimate thoughts. I watch them exchanging meaningful glances and simultaneous nods.

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