Page 21 of Stolen Bride
Good girl.
Like I’m a fucking dog who’s learned a trick.
Like I’m something to be trained and controlled.
I pick up the fork and throw it at his head with all the strength I have left.
He catches it without even blinking, his hand shooting up so fast I barely see the movement.
For one moment, the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile.
Then he sets the fork back on the tray, turns, and walks out without another word.
The lock clicks behind him and I’m alone again.
I make it to the bathroom before I throw up everything I just ate.
That night, I lie awake in the darkness and plan.
I’ll get out of here.
I don’t know how yet, but I will.
I’ll find a weakness in the security, or I’ll convince one of the guards to help me, or I’ll wait until Leo makes a mistake. I’m patient. I can wait.
And when I do get out, when I make it back to my father and my family and my life, I’ll make sure Leo Santoro regrets the day he ever heard my name.
I’ll watch him burn for this.
I swear it.
4
LEO
I’ve been watching Emma on the security monitors for the better part of an hour, and I’m starting to realize I severely underestimated Connor’s daughter.
The camera feed shows her pacing the length of her room for probably the twentieth time today, and I can see the wheels turning in her head even from this grainy footage.
She’s not crying anymore, and hasn’t been for some time now, and that calculating expression is back on her face.
The one that says she’s looking for weaknesses.
She’s tried the door sixteen times in the last three days.
I know because I’ve been counting, watching her test the lock with increasing creativity.
First just turning the handle, then throwing her weight against it, then trying to pick it with a bobby pin she found god knows where, then attempting to remove the hinges with a butter knife from one of her meal trays before the guards started checking what utensils they left her.
She’s tested every window at least twice, running her hands along the decorative ironwork like she’s looking for a weak point in the metal or a way to bend the bars.
She’s searched the entire room for potential weapons or tools. Somehow she found a letter opener in the desk drawer on day one and I had to have it removed before she could stab someone with it.
She’s even examined the air vents, probably assessing if she could fit through them.
The answer is no.
I designed this room myself specifically to hold someone who doesn’t want to be held.
