I mirror her pose, jutting my chin forward in demand.

  “He wants to talk to you, too,” Malia says. “He said he’ll contact you. Soon. Why would he do that at this point?”

  “That’s a good question,” I say. “But I’m not worried about it. I’ll be ready for him.”

  She sighs, raising an eyebrow at me before she turns to walk back inside the house while I remain outside on the terrace.

  Christopher wants to talk to me. Just days after Petal’s disappearance. Malia is right to show a little concern.

  Why would he want that? What could I possibly tell him?

  Chapter 34

  Petal

  I know right away that something is different this time when she enters my room.

  She looks different. She’s still wearing that same black dress and the same black shoes, but her black locks frame her hair in a wild manner that I haven’t seen on her before. She looks exhausted, her eyes red and her face puffy.

  She must have been crying.

  A day has passed. I can tell by the disappearance of the ray of light. Right after she brought my food and listened to my pathetic ramblings, I went back up on the bench, stretching, breathing, holding my hand up to the light to slowly watch it changing colors. It turned warmer and softer after a while, barely visible on the palm of my hand, until it disappeared completely.

  The sun had set—and I felt tired, astonished at the fact that my body still knew how to tell when it was time to rest. I curled up under the covers, drifting off to sleep long enough to find a new ray of light when I climbed up the bench again after waking up.

  The light in my room hasn’t changed much, as it is not affected by the little eyeblink of light that sneaks through the crack in the boards during daytime. My room is always dark, only illuminated by a dim light up above. A light to which I have yet to find a switch. It appears it can only be controlled from outside this room, just like the one down in the basement.

  I didn’t know what else to do, so I went back to bed, hugging myself in the soft sheets that still smell of him. He spent hours with me, possibly. He lay next to me, holding me as I slowly drifted off to sleep, and he stayed for God knows how long after that. He gave me comfort and solace, and I welcomed it.

  It sickens me to say it, but I miss him. I really do.

  I don’t know if he has some kind of routine, but I feel that it has been long, too long since he last visited me. Since I fell asleep in his arms. Was it day or night when all of that happened? Or early morning? Did he make me come as the sun was about to rise, causing me to sleep through half the day?

  Does it matter?

  Now the black haired girl is standing inside my room, her dark eyes locked on me, not carrying a tray with her, but something else. I sit up, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders like a protective cape while my eyes wander down to her right hand, where her fingers are closed around a black object.

  A phone.

  Oh my God. Did she bring me a phone so I could call for help?

  But who would I call? What would I even do with it?

  Did she dial the number for me? Is there someone at the other end waiting to speak to me?

  Someone on the outside?

  My eyes go back and forth between hers and the phone in her hand, trying to make sense of a situation that has no predecessor. I don’t dare speak or move, because that has never led me anywhere when it comes to this mysterious girl. She froze, she listened, once she gave a cryptic reply, once she started crying.

  She always ran. She always took flight away from me.

  Whatever this is about, she’ll have to be the one to get the ball rolling.

  Her fingers tighten around the phone in her hand when she steps forward, slowly approaching the bed in deliberate and small steps, careful, as if she was approaching an untamed animal. The look on her face hardens, and I twitch in surprise when she raises her left hand, holding her index finger up in a warning.

  “You have to promise,” she whispers, and my heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it, so long since she ever gave me the gift of hope, as short-lived as it may have been.

  “You have to promise you won’t tell.”

  She comes to a halt right next to the bed, within arm’s reach. We’ve never been this close to each other. It’s the first time I see her face up close, the first time I’m allowed to look directly at her for long enough to see the details adorning her young face. She has a little scar right above her left eye, and her nose is slightly crooked, but it doesn’t hurt her beauty at all. She’s a pretty girl, looking so different to me with her healthy olive skin and those deep black eyes, locking me in place just as much as his gaze does.

  “Promise,” she hisses, now pointing at me. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

  “Tell him what?” I utter helplessly.

  “What I’m about to show you.”

  She holds up the phone, angling it from side to side as if that would tell me anything.

  Show me? She wants to show me something? So she didn’t bring me help, but... what?

  “What are you going to show me?” I ask. “You’re not going to help me?”

  She shakes her head. “This will help you.”

  “How?” I probe.

  She sighs, throwing a quick look back over her shoulder to the door before she turns back to me.

  “Look, we don’t have much time,” she whispers. “Please, just promise me you won’t tell him? You have to!”

  “But—”

  “Please!”

  She steps even closer, her lower lip trembling as distress laces her expression. “Please... Petal. Promise.”

  That pause before she addresses me. She looks pained when she calls me by the only name I know, revealing that it really isn’t the one she knows me by. Her anguish is so palpable that it makes me hurt.

  “Okay,” I say in a low voice. “I promise I won’t tell him.”

  Relief washes over her, visible in the way her features relax and her shoulders sink. She turns the phone toward herself, tapping on the screen a few times before she takes a deep breath.

  “It’ll be quick,” she says, regarding me with a serious look as if to check for my attention. “I promise, this will help you. But it needs to stay between us. It really, really has to.”

  “Understood.” I reply with the same genuine earnestness she’s displaying right now.

  Our eyes latch on to each other, a few seconds of grave silence stretching between us.

  A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth when she taps on the display one more time before she turns it around for me to see. I lower my gaze, drawn to the device in her hands.

  My breath hikes when I see what’s on it.

  Then it stops.

  Everything stops, losing its meaning as it is swallowed by the dreary clouds of the reality that surrounds me.

  That reality is turned upside down, tearing away its black mask as it gets ready to be replaced by a new one.

  New. Not less terrifying.

  I’m choking, unable to hold back the tears as it hits me.

  As it comes back to me.

  As I’m faced with something he was so adamant to keep away from me.

  This is it.

  It all makes sense now.

  Part 2

  Fallen Petal

  Chapter 35

  Malia

  I miss her.

  I see her every single day, but still, I miss my best friend like I’ve never missed her before.

  When she left town to attend a school so far away that she might as well have vanished from the planet, we swore to each other that we wouldn’t let happen to us what has happened to so many others before.

  We wouldn’t lose contact. We wouldn’t grow apart. We’d always stay friends, just as close as we’ve been most of our lives.

  And we did. We managed to stay true to our words. Who in the world can say that about their childhood friend?

  I envied her, though. I’ll admit that much. She achieved something that I never did, despite everything. She turned her back on something that was familiar and comfortable, but so overloaded with dark burdens that it would carve her to pieces if she stayed any longer. Others would not have had the courage she had.

  I certainly didn’t.

  But then again, I don’t share her pain. Not at all. We grew up together, so close, our lives so intertwined, yet so very, very different. I had a happy childhood, a loving home, a stability that was unknown to her. I wasn’t chased by the same demons she was, and I wasn’t as susceptible to the evil in this town.

  She always had this allure on people. On men. I was jealous of it before I understood what it meant to be her, to attract their leering gazes and groping hands without even knowing why. It’s more than just her physical beauty, more than her enchanting eyes, more than her delicate frame, more than her soft curves and the wavy ash-blonde hair that makes her look like a doll.

  It’s more than that.

  It’s the mystery that surrounds her, and the danger that comes with it. She carries a secret, a secret she no longer knows about.

  He took it from her, and in letting him do so, she made him the man he is today.

  Jayson Bowlan, the famous mesmerist.

  I was there when it happened. I was there for almost everything in her life. I know as much as there is to know about her, except for one thing: What exactly happened that night she lost the one person in her life who was supposed to protect her? No one knows—except for him.

  Shrouded in mystery, he kept appearing and disappearing in her life. He was like a shadow, following her, watching her, protecting her in his own twisted way, even though her father tried to push him away again and again.

  People are afraid of him, because of the things he’s capable of. But they also adore him. Boy, do they marvel at this man and his wondrous skill. They bend over backward to be seen by him, and they pay insane amounts to obtain his questionable services. He’s become so rich that it’s sickening.

  I neither care for him, nor do I fear him.

  But I love her. I will always love her.

  I had to be a part of this. I had to be here for her, to make sure that he wouldn’t break her, as I’m sure he has done to others. He will not take my friend from me, not again.

  My eyes are glued to her face as she watches the video on my phone, her eyes wide in shock while realization slowly hits her. I swore to myself I would only show it to her once, and not all of it. Just a few seconds, just enough for her to understand, to gain a pinch of knowledge that will make all of this a little easier on her.

  I don’t understand everything about this. I don’t understand why things have to be this way, why he’s doing things the way he does, and why she’s subjected to this humiliating torment.

  But I agreed to play my part in it. For her.

  Because she asked me to.

  She also asked me to do this, if I felt that it was necessary. So technically, I’m not breaking protocol. Not hers, at least.

  He, on the other hand, can never know that I did this. He can’t know that I’ve learned the code he was so careful to hide from me. It took several times of spying across his shoulder as he quickly typed it in, because it’s a long code and I never manage to see and remember all of it at once. It took time, patience, and focus—but I had to do it. I had to find a way to be alone with her, without him knowing about it.

  I didn’t know when the opportunity would present itself, if it ever would. But today, all the right pieces fell into place when Jayson had to leave the house.

  We’re alone. Just the two of us, without being observed by his watchful eye.

  But I don’t know for how long.

  I have to leave before he gets back, before he notices anything.

  She protests when I pull the phone away, trying to grab it as I move out of reach as quickly as possible.

  “No!” she shrieks at me. “Please, I need to see more, I need to—”

  “Hush!” I place my finger on my lips, begging her to quiet down. “Please. Don’t tell him!”

  Her face has lost all color as she stares at me with disbelieving terror, shaking her head while her eyes glimmer with tears.

  It gets to me. Her pain has always gotten to me, stabbing me right in the heart as if it was my own.

  But it has never been as bad as now, in this very moment.

  “I’m sorry,” I utter, my voice breaking as I’m overcome with my own urge for tears. “I can’t do more.”

  She calls after me again when I turn my back to her, doing the best thing I can do for her right now.

  Leave the room.

  Chapter 36

  J

  It’s been less than a week since she vanished off the face of the Earth. A lot has happened since then, with her, with me, with the two of us. She woke up in a state that was far more shocked than I anticipated, but backed with the kind of strength that has always kept her on her feet.

  I only did this to her because I knew she could handle it. I knew she would hate me for it. I knew she would fear me. I knew she would suffer, she would cry and try to fight me as well as she could.

  But I also knew that she would soon turn this experience into her very own reality. She made it her own long before I expected her to. I hate it when my plans get toyed with, when someone interferes and robs me of control that is solely mine.

  She did that when I tied her to the bed. I never planned to allow myself to explode like that, to mark her beautiful body with my cum before I forced her to lick it clean. But I couldn’t help myself. Seeing her spread out in front of me, her naked body at my disposal, with no one to stop us, no one to disrupt the tension between us—and her dark eyes looking up at me with that horny despair.

  I should have fucked her then. I was very close to doing it. But something held me back. Those damn voices at the back of my head, the judgmental faces. Will I ever be able to get rid of them? I’ll have to if this is to turn out the way we both want it to.

  But how do you cast away inhibitions that have been forced on you for most of your life? I was never allowed near her, not since that day when I helped her for the first time. She wasn’t even brushing at the transition between a child and a young woman back then, way too young to consider her this way.

  But that didn’t stop me from falling for her, ten fucking years ago. My agony has accompanied me for an entire decade. It shouldn’t surprise me that there was no power left for restraint.

  At least I didn’t give in to the urge of fucking her.

  Yet.

  I can’t do it until she’s ready, until she asks me to do it. That’s the deal. And I’m a man who’s true to his word, especially when it comes to her.

  Unfortunately, I’m also a man who’s made a name for himself and who’s sought after, no matter whether I’m up for it or not. I can’t disappear into the shadows, as much as I’d like to. But while I was prepared to face the outside world, no matter what was going on in my own home, this particular call is especially annoying.

  Because it’s him.

  Malia warned me that Christopher would reach out to me, but when his call came only a day later, I still felt overrun by it. And I certainly don’t appreciate the fact that he’s asking to see me in person. When I asked him why, he kept it vague, excusing himself by saying that the matter was too precarious to be discussed on the phone.

  That’s why I’m sitting here at the station house like a fucking idiot, waiting to be called in by him. It’s my first time out of the house ever since she woke up, and while I’m sure I shouldn’t have anything to worry about, I can’t help but. Malia is there, but not inside her room, because I wouldn’t allow it. Every time Malia stepped inside to bring her food, I was standing outside the door, out of sight, granting her access to the room and waiting right there until she stepped back out—while watching every single move and listening to every word spoken between them on my tablet.

  She may not be able to get inside Petal’s room without my help, but she’s inside the house, with access to one of the panels that display the images caught by the camera in Petal’s bedroom. If anything were to happen, if Petal did anything we wouldn’t want her to, Malia would alert me about it right away. Still, I fucking hope my phone won’t buzz in the middle of my conversation with Christopher.

  “Jayson!”

  He greets me as if we were old friends, marching toward me with wide and confident steps as he reaches out his hand for a shake. Christopher has aged since I last saw him. His hair is thinning as is his waistline, emphasizing the new furrows on his face. He’s a few years younger than me, still a young man, but looking at the two of us, most people would assume him to be the senior. The smile on his face is crooked and so fake that it makes my blood boil. I know he only wears it out here, for show. It’s not for my benefit but for the people in our vicinity, his colleagues mostly.

  I refrain from displaying my inner disgust at his friendly gesture and opt for a friendly smile instead, taking his hand in mine with a tight squeeze that makes his face twitch. “Christopher.”

  “Glad you could come,” he says as he beckons me to follow him.

  “Didn’t really have a choice, did I?”

  He casts me a curious look from the side, no longer smiling but with a hardened expression on his face. Whatever he may have to say in response remains his secret, because my remark is met with nothing but silence.

  We step inside an office at the far end of the hallway. Christopher hurries to close the door behind us, making it seem as if he couldn’t wait to be alone in a room with me.

  I can’t say that the feeling is mutual.

  “Sit,” he tells me, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking armchair opposite a small gray desk that must be his. “Want something to drink?”