Page 116 of Manic

I froze, my steps slamming to a halt at the sound of voices from around the corner. Hedged bushes lined the perimeter, but from this vantage point, a stone fountain in the center of the gardens came into view. Beyond that were trees.

I had no plan, just a thread of hope that I could at least put distance between me and the mansion, even if that meant running straight into the woods. Even if that meant leaving Manic behind.

When the voices finally died, I bolted.

My heeled boots hit the stairs, and before I could comprehend what I’d decided, I was already halfway down.

“Where are you going?” a familiar voice said from behind me, and I immediately halted my descent.

Fear constricted my breathing.

One step. I had one step left.

Only a few inches separated me from the grass, and I could run. Leave Manic, the mafia, and my parents behind. I could make it, I thought. Sophomore year in college, I’d taken up running. Even though it had been a while, I still had stamina. It might be enough, but my shoes would definitely slow me down.

My limbs shook, my frantic breaths billowing clouds as I turned to face the voice. A red cherry lit up on the wide wrap-around porch, smoke wafting by on the cold wind. The figure was silhouetted against the house, but my entire body tensed.

I knew who that was just by the frame of his shoulders, the dusting of his hair, and his pulsing confidence. For a moment, that unbearable ache resurfaced and guilt crept in. It nearly dropped me to my knees.

Manic flicked his cigarette to the ground and descended the steps until we were level. He swept a tendril of hair off my face, a sad smile ghosting the edge of his mouth.

“I hope you weren’t planning on leaving.”

I swatted him away with a snarl. “What’s it to you?”

He snapped out a hand, his fingers threading through my hair before tugging my head back. It wasn’t forceful, but I still whimpered, adrenaline and fear shooting through my veins like the first hit of a drug.

He pinned me with a glare so fierce, my legs wobbled. His features tightened, casting a shadow over his eyes as his brows dropped. But as he looked at me, studied my expression, something more danced in his. Disappointment, maybe.

Pain. Heartache.

Regardless, I wanted to scream, but those tears, those stupid tears stung my eyes again.

I just wanted to leave. I just wanted my freedom. I wanted to be away from the mafia, unable to fathom the thought of being handed over to Dmitri like property.

I wasn’t property; I was a person.

My hands balled into fists, and I choked back a cry when he tugged again, as if urging me to say something.

“Why are you running?” he asked.

“I can’t go back there,” I blurted, my words a tumbling mess as I begged for my freedom. Part of me wanted to stay, to be held by the man who’d watched me for years, but the other part of me knew it wouldn’t be possible. Not with Manic. “Please, let me go. Don’t take me back there—I can’t do it. If you give me⁠—”

“Don’t say another word,” he clipped, his attention sweeping behind me before falling back to my face. “There are too many cameras and too many people around to overhear whatever you’re about to spew.”

“I—”

“Walk.”

He forced me down the remaining stairs by the back of my neck, our shoes hitting the grass in hard thuds. I was too frightened to fight back, my legs too shaky to run. A lamplight flicked to life, showcasing the squared bushes along the side of the mansion.

“Don’t we need to say goodbye?” I asked, hoping to stall whatever punishment he had lined out for me.

“I’m not saying goodbye to those people. They won’t even realize we’re gone.”

Within seconds, we were beside the car. Defeat sat heavily on my shoulders when my door slammed shut and Manic slid into the driver’s seat. I’d failed my escape. Gravel kicked up as the car took off down the driveway, the mansion now a faint glow in the side mirrors.

“What happened?” Manic asked.