Page 63 of Chain Me
I was doubtfully eyeing my dress, considering whether to wear it at all or just leave the bathroom naked, when someone knocked softly on the door.
“Miss? Mr. Helos requested that I bring you some of your belongings so that you can make yourself as comfortable as possible. We have about eight hours until landing.” The attendant opened the door and offered an array of items balanced on a tray. A length of black material that resembled a robe. A fresh dress. Slippers and various toiletries.
I accepted them all gratefully and dressed in the modest black shift and the silken robe. When I reentered the bedroom, Dublin still hadn’t returned. I climbed onto the mattress, gasping at the quality—divine. Before I knew it, I was groggily stirring to awareness and finding a presence looming over the bed.
“The plane won’t crash, I hope,” I murmured as another bout of turbulence rattled the cabin—though honestly the mattress was so luxurious that I barely even felt the disturbance at all. “Is everything okay with the pilot?”
Dublin said nothing, his face expressionless. Closed-off.
Unease made me swallow as I scrambled upright. “What’s wrong?”
“What exactly did you tell your sister? Perhaps you’ve had a line of communication to her all along? I had my men check for your little note. It’s gone.” His voice was so cutting that I ran my fingers along my throat just to make sure he hadn’t drawn blood. “Tell me now. Did you mention the contract? Gloat over the fact that you own me like a dog on a leash?”
I shook my head. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?”
“We’re being followed.” He eyed me pointedly, as if waiting for a confession.
When all I could do was sputter wordlessly, he turned on his heel and stormed into the main cabin.
“Wait!” I started to follow but he stopped short, his voice like a whip.
“Don’t. Stay in here. Get yourrestwhile I try to ensure we both don’t end up killed.”
I stared after him, my mouth agape. He crossed the central cabin, disappearing through a doorway at the other end.
I crept toward the threshold, his rage an invisible line that kept me from stepping over it. Doubt became full-blown paranoia. And then dread.
My heart felt a bit like that goddamn Gray family crypt. Dusty and chambered, filled with a million dark, shadowy spaces. And every time I let him in, he slammed the door on his way out.
Cold
It seemed that we landed hours later. An eternity perhaps, suspended in time and space—the perfect environment for Dublin’s anger to fester into full-blown apathy when he finally appeared outside my unofficial prison cell.
“Come,” he said. Dressed in a fresh suit entirely composed of black, he didn’t even resemble the man I’d clung to just a few short hours earlier. He was a stranger who dabbled in the trade of souls—but mine was already far beyond his reach. “We need to move quickly.” Suspicion lanced from him, honed like a blade.
So I parried in the only way I knew how: with equal vitriol.
“I’ll move,” I snarled, my hands on my hips, “just as soon as you tell me where the hell we are.”
He lunged, snatching my wrist, and yanked me across the main cabin.
“Get off of me!” By the time I’d managed to wrench out of his grip, we were already descending the steps onto a secluded tarmac, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
A car waited nearby, another stern-faced driver standing at the ready. But Dublin’s silence couldn’t obscure everything. Evening painted the sky a stunning ochre shade, for one. Like fire, smoldering down to ebony embers speckled with starlight. Given that we’d left the city only early in the morning, it shouldn’t have been this dark yet.
“Where are we?” I demanded as I continued down the steps.
Dublin said nothing, but the moment I reached solid ground, he grabbed my arm, all but hauling me to the car. I sputtered as he shoved me into the back seat—but this time, he followed, slamming the door after us.
I scrambled as far away from him as I could, squeezing myself against the opposite door. He didn’t even spare a glance in my direction.
His attention on the driver, he commanded, “Go.”
“Where are we?” I demanded. Somewhere far, far from my home I suspected.
Foreign air lingered in my nostrils, far crisper than the stench of the city. Twisted trees lined the road and loomed above, easily displacing any view of the sky. In some ways, it felt like a parallel universe, one frozen in time.
“I’ll keep our location to myself for now,” Dublin said in a tone that made me grit my teeth. “Just in case you decide to write more letters to your sister. And here I was, assuming she might be in danger. I actually considered offering my services to assist you in finding—”
