Page 61 of Captive Bride

A prisoner is a prisoner, no matter if they wear an orange jumpsuit or designer garments.

If my things were all that I had left, my conscience would be clear.

However, as I make my way out of the bedroom, thoughts of Theo and Thelma once again plague my mind.

I imagine their fear at finding me gone. What will they think when they hear the news?

I know that if I was in their position, I’d be terrified. The fact that I’m here rather than the dank prison they must be imagining makes me cringe.

I may not have chosen to leave, but I would never go back.

Not now.

Not after Tristan.

I wish that I could explain everything to them, that I could set their minds at ease. For the time being though, I’m powerless to do so.

Once father finds out I’m gone, no one will be at ease.

The thought of my father has my heart pounding in my chest. It’s all well and good that Tristan thinks he can find a way of making this work, but he doesn’t know my father. His reputation alone could never properly explain the man.

He is ruthless.

Fearless.

Cruel.

He’ll stop at nothing to get me back.

He’ll tear Tristan to shreds if he so much as gets the chance. No amount of pleading will calm his need for revenge.

And me?

My love won’t be so much as a blip on his radar. He’d have me back in the hands of the Governor before I could even speak of it.

My blood runs like ice through my veins.

No matter what happens, I can’t allow my father to win. I’ve found something here that I could never even imagine. Love and freedom were only silly words before now.

We can’t let him rip this away from us. Without it, we’d have nothing left.

I suddenly find myself before a door, the courtyard shimmering brightly through the glass.

Tristan is there with his cousins. All my kidnappers are here in one place.

I smile, my heart lurching in my chest.

He turns his head towards me, sensing my presence in a way I can’t explain. He seems to have forgotten his phone on his ears as he finds me.

His eyes meet mine, and the horrors raging through my own head become quiet.

His effect on me is intense and immediate, hope building in the remains of fear.

I twist the knob and step out into the courtyard with a sense of relief.

“Yes,” he says into his phone. “Yes, I understand.”

I close the distance between us, needing to feel his touch again, needing the safety that only his arms seem to offer. The arm not supporting his phone snakes around me, pulling me tightly against the solid expanse of his chest.

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