Page 50 of Control

There’s a bright look in her eyes, the one that’s so damn naïve. Like she hasn’t seen the world for what it really is.

“Remo?” Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts, her eyes narrowing as she catches the look on my face. She knows something’s wrong, and damn it, I can’t hide it.

“Don’t ask,” I say. I don’t want to talk about it. Not with her. Not now.

“What happened?” she pushes. She’s persistent. Too persistent.

I grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar and pour myself a glass. The burn doesn’t help, but I drink anyway.

****

Daniela

One hour earlier

I wake up to the smell of burnt coffee in the kitchen.

I don’t need to check to know Remo’s the one who made it. He’s always been a disaster in the mornings, just like he’s a disaster at pretty much everything else in his life.

I look for him in the kitchen, but he isn’t there, so I go to his office.

The box is sitting in the trash can when I get there, withered roses on top of dead spiders.

What the hell?

I look at him. His eyes are colder than usual, and he glances at the box like he already knows what it is. He’s been on edge all week, the tension in his shoulders making him seem like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

“Who’s sending these?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Don’t ask.”

I’m not sure why I even try to hold it together anymore. Maybe it’s the last shred of dignity I’ve got left, or maybe it’s just because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me completely lose it. But I can feel the rage building inside me, the heat starting to rise in my chest. I know he’s not going to give me an answer, but I ask anyway.

“What happened?” I push.

“I said don’t ask. It’s none of your business anyway.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” I say bitterly. “You made this my business the minute you took me from my apartment against my will. You made it my business when I almost died the other day and when I lost Betty B in a stupid shootout that I still don’t know the genesis of today. You also made it my business when you stuck your dick down my throat and when you fucked me and told me I belonged to you. So you don’t just get to shut me out now without at least giving some sort of explanation for receiving such an ominous package.”

He shoots me a glare that feels like a physical blow. The weight of it is enough to make me step back. My heart skips a beat, but I’m not going to show him that. I won’t.

“I can control this. And I will.”

I roll my eyes. He’s so damn certain and so convinced that he can bend everyone and everything to his will. But he’s wrong. He’s not invincible. None of us are. I don’t care how many roses he burns or how many bodies he buries. He’s still just a man. A broken one at that.

I can see his frustration bubbling over, anger so deep that it’s starting to leak into everything. The longer I stay here, the more I see it. His control is slipping, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. And I…I’m starting to wonder how much longer I can stay in his world without breaking myself.

I glance down at the roses again, my stomach twisting. The realization hits me harder than anything. It’s one thing to be pulled into something you can’t control, but to stay here, knowing what it’s costing me…well, that’s the real trap.

When I turn to leave, he catches my arm.

“This isn’t the fantasy relationship you wish it to be, Daniela. Your only concern is that I keep you safe and—”

“Safe,” I repeat, the word sounding like a joke in my mouth. “You call this safe? You lock me up in this cage and call it safe? You’re full of shit, Remo.”

“Say that sentence again one more time,” he spits warningly, the words hitting me like stones.

I feel a knot tighten in my stomach, but I refuse to back down. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Remo. You’re not my fucking keeper. I’m not your prisoner, and I’m done with all this.”

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