Page 7 of His Black Onyx

Chapter 4

Malia

I can't help but think of this as some sort of retribution. Karma is a bitch, they say. And if karma would come back at me with anything, it would be this.

Waking up in a dark cell? Check.

Being confused and scared as shit? Check.

Not knowing why this is happening to me? Check.

I deserve this, maybe I really do. Despite the reasoning behind all of it, the contract, the promises, the need for it, the outcome—I still know that I did something very, very wrong. And I did it to my best friend.

Maybe this really is karma's way of enacting revenge.

But does that mean Liliane is in on this? Is she playing some kind of trick on me?

No, that can't be it. Even if this is karma's work, my best friend has nothing to do with it. She would never do this to me. Never.

But who would?

And who is this man?

This man, who emits danger and yet a confusing sense of comfort at the same time, who blinds me with his rugged handsomeness and the tortured expression on his face as he sits on the bed next to me, visibly struggling to find the right words to shed at least a little light on this horrifying mystery.

The longer he makes me wait, the more I hope that he's just getting ready to save me from this ordeal.

Ha, ha, got you! See! This is what it feels like, Malia!

And then the door would open and they would come in, my friend Liliane, laughing, untying me as she apologizes for scaring me like this. And we would share a friendly giggle, a look, a smile that's so full of meaning, a depth that only makes sense to the two of us.

I know how silly it is to dream up this prospect, how unlikely it is for any of this to happen. But what else is there for me to do? I'd rather cling to the smallest ray of hope than to dwell on the terrifying reality of this.

He sits with his back half turned to me, his gaze lowered into his lap where his strong fingers intertwine, twisting and turning as if he was weaving the words with an invisible piece of yarn before he's able to say them.

This man is in trouble, that's for sure. He may look strong and in control at first, but it becomes more and more apparent to me that as the moments pass, he's not displaying the same powerful demeanor I've witnessed up until now.

He kidnapped me, but he didn't want to—is that it? Did someone force him to do this and now he's feeling guilty?

I want to push him, beckon him to tell me what the hell is going on here. But I'm afraid to act on it, fearing that it will only anger him and cause him to threaten me further and perhaps not tell me anything.

I flinch when he lets out another deep sigh, bracing myself for an attack that doesn't come.

"Here's the deal." His voice is hoarse, reminding me more of a dull growl than the carefully lowered tone of someone who's about to deliver bad news.

"You will take someone else's place. You will play a role and carry out a mission for us," he goes on, speaking without looking at me. "I will do my best to help you. I will train you, I will teach you everything you need to know, and I will keep you safe."

He clears his throat then, lifting his head before his eyes trail back to me. "I will do what I can to make this work, because you cannot fucking fail. If you do, you're dead. And so am I."

I frown. "What if I don't want to do this... mission?"

His eyes narrow forming a deep crease between his eyebrows.

"You don't have a choice," he replies, his tone becoming even more sinister than before. "If you want your family to live, you'll fucking do what I tell you to do."

I inhale sharply, feeling as if a clamp has been tightened around my heart making it hard to breathe.

My family. He'd kill my parents if I don't go along with this?

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