Page 55 of Vicious Games

I tried to back away from Roman, but he gripped my shoulders harder.

I struggled in his grasp. “No. It can’t be true. It can’t be. Something’s wrong.”

There was a commotion downstairs. We both turned toward the sounds.

I broke free from Roman and backed up. “What is that?”

He held his palms up and out. “It’s the only way I could protect you from the police.”

I couldn’t breathe. The tight corset was cutting off my air. I fell back against the wall. “What did you do?”

“They’re here to take you to a private asylum. Baby, it’s the only way.”

“I’m not crazy. I didn’t shoot you! This is all just a trick. One of your twisted games.”

“Look at me!” He pointed to his bloodied chest wound. “Look at your dress. Are you telling me you don’t remember walking down the aisle? The vows before the bishop? You, holding that gun?”

I slid along the wall as I inched away from him. He knew damn well I remembered those things. I just couldn’t remember if they were real.

The commotion outside our dressing room intensified.

No longer willing to listen to him, I broke free. Picking up the bloodied skirts of my dress, I bolted for the door. I ran through the bedroom to the hallway. As I headed for the front stairs, I could see several men in white uniforms heading up. I turned and ran down the hallway, heading for the servants’ stairway.

I clung to the banister as I half ran, half tripped down the narrow back passageway. Ignoring the cook’s shocked expression, I squeezed past her and the stainless steel counter as I made a break for the back door.

As soon as I swung it open, I could see more men in white uniforms approaching through the enclosed garden. I slammed the door shut and ran in the other direction. I could hear Roman calling my name but didn’t dare turn around. I tried to navigate the rabbit warren of tiny corridors and doors that made up the servants’ area of the gothic church mansion.

I pulled open one heavy wooden door and realized I was in the dining room. I bolted past the long table and made for the double pocket doors. As soon as I crossed the threshold, I was in the outer hallway. Without looking around, I ran straight for the front door.

Someone grabbed me from behind.

“Let me go!” I screamed.

The strange man wrapped his arms around my chest, pinning my arms to my sides.

“Get off her!” roared Roman.

He wrenched me out of the man’s arms and swung his fist, connecting with the man’s jaw and knocking him backward.

Roman then turned to me. “Stop making this harder, Aurora. This needs to happen if I’m going to protect you from the authorities.”

I shook my head. “You’re lying. You’re lying.”

My shoulders sagged. I was confused and frightened and exhausted. I had no more fight left in me.

Roman nodded to the men who were standing nearby.

I felt the prick of a needle in my upper arm. Then everything went fuzzy. I blinked several times, fighting the darkness.

Through a haze, I watched one of the men in white approach Roman as he rubbed his jaw. “Damn. No one said anything about you punching me. That’s going to cost you extra.”

I blinked again, straining to remain conscious as I waited for Roman’s response.

Roman smirked. “You’ll get paid. Just get her to the asylum.”

I knew it.

I knew it.

---