Page 77 of Keeping My Captive

I can’t sleep, eat or breathe without thinking about him.

Staring out the window of my old bedroom, which feels foreign to me now, I sigh deeply. I’m being held against my will by my own family. I haven’t been able to leave my room, let alone the house since I’ve been here. They all think I’m suffering from severe PTSD and Stockholm syndrome, and they’re patiently waiting for me to snap out of it. But what they don’t realize is that there’s nothing to snap out of. I know all of this sounds insane, but I fell in love with my captor. And I won’t be able to rest until I know that Mateo is okay.

A knock sounds at my door, startling me out of my inner turmoil. “Come in,” I call.

My father walks into the room. He looks worse for wear, his face etched with worry, and I feel awful my family had to go through so much while I was gone. I’m sure the constant concern and not knowing what was happening to me all this time got to everyone, emotionally and mentally.

Dad stands a few feet away from me, and I realize he’s holding a piece of paper in a vice grip in his hands. He’s wearing a suit, but the tie is undone, and his shirt is wrinkled. His dark hair is disheveled like he’s spent some time running his hands through it. This is so unlike my father’s usual appearance that it’s scary. He’s always so put together and in control.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “What is that?” I ask, although based on my father’s reaction to it, I’m not sure I even want the answer.

His gray eyes lock on mine before he glances down at the paper, gripping it so hard I swear he’s trying to bleed the ink from the typed words. “Your blood tests came back,” my father starts. “Aria…” His voice trails off, and I’m suddenly anxious.

God, with the way he’s acting, did I contract some kind of incurable disease or something? “Dad, what is it?” I press.

“You’re pregnant, Aria.”

I stare at him, blinking rapidly like I’m attempting morse code with my eyes or something. “What?” I ask even though I heard him loud and clear.

“You’re pregnant,” he says, his voice strained with emotion.

My eyes drift down to my flat stomach. I’m not even showing yet. Haven’t experienced any obvious symptoms. I had no idea…

My father clears his throat and says, “Now, we have a few options here. We can take you to a clinic —.”

I hold up my hand to stop him. “I’m keeping the baby, Dad,” I explain vehemently.

He nods solemnly. “It’s your choice,” he says, his voice full of anguish. And then he adds, “I just didn’t know if you would want to keep it.”

“Why would I not want to?”

“Because you think you’re in love with the man who held you captive for months,” he explains adamantly.

“No. I don’t think that, Dad.” I can see the sense of relief in his face, and I almost hate to burst his bubble with what I’m about to say. “I don’t think I love Mateo. Iknowthat I love him. I fell in love with him.” Steeling my spine, I continue with, “Dad, I don’t have Stockholm syndrome or whatever the hell else those people think I do. I’m not delusional or in denial of what happened to me. I’m well aware of how crazy all of this sounds, but I don’t care. My feelings are my feelings, and I won’t pretend that they just don’t exist.” I take a few seconds to calm down before I add, “Did you know Mateo was the one who had Constantine Carbone murdered in prison?”

A surprised look is on his face, so I know he wasn’t privy to that information.

“When Mateo found out Constantine had kidnapped me and hurt me, he put out the word to take Constantine out. He did it for me, Dad.” My breathing stutters when I think about all the times Mateo protected me. “That wasn’t the only thing he did for me. He kept me safe. He always kept me safe.” No one has let me tell my side of the story yet, and it feels freeing being able to tell them somethinggoodabout Mateo.

My father takes a few minutes to absorb my words. Clearing his throat, he says, “You do realize Mateo’s going to prison for the rest of his life.”

My head protests with a vicious throb when I think about not ever being able to see him again except for when he’s behind glass or bars. “There has to be something we can do. I can testify on his behalf or something! Tell the FBI that it wasn’t his fault; that I wasn’t there against my will.” I’m near hysterics, but I don’t care. I don’t want the man I love going to prison because of me.

“I wish it were that simple,” my father starts. “You have to understand that it’s not just the kidnapping charge, Aria. Mateo is not a good man. The FBI has had him on the top of their most wanted list for a long time. He is the head of a very dangerous cartel. His rap sheet is a mile long. They are going to prosecute him to the fullest extent and never let him out of prison.”

A sob attempts to escape, but I press the back of my hand to my lips to silence it. I can’t break down right now. Mateo needs me even if he doesn’t realize it.

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I put my head in my hands. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know our story can’t end like this. I think about the beginning of our relationship and how my horrible fate on that island led me to him.

The Island.

And then an idea hits me like a freight train, and my head snaps up, my gaze meeting my father’s. “What if Mateo offers the FBI something that they really want?”

My dad cocks his dark brow. “Tell me more.”

And so I do. I tell him everything, knowing that this is my last chance to save the man I love…and the father of my unborn child.

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