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He makes me hold it in the air until my muscles burn. Every single time my arms lower even a fraction of an inch, I’m forced to put them back up.
My body burns, my eyes water, and my brain clouds with fog.
After an hour, my father looks at me with what feels an awful lot like shame, taking the loaded gun from my head and weighing it in his hands.
And suddenly, the barrel is in my face.
“Now, next practice.”
Looking to the left, the barrel of a gun fills my vision. It’s, unfortunately, a fairly familiar sight, and for once, I’m almost happy to have seen it a few too many times. My stomach lurches, but my anxiety stays at bay. Maybe it’s the training, or perhaps it’s adrenaline.
Ronan levels me with a stare, and my eyes naturally drift over him. He’s still wearing the pants he had on from yesterday, but he lost the suit jacket. Instead, his sleeves are rolled up, exposing his thick forearm. An expensive-looking watch sits on his opposite wrist, but I can’t seem to see what brand. Watches have never been my thing, but it looks so natural on him that I almost think I could come around to them.
“You wouldn’t,” I whisper, my hands still up as my eyes return to his. The space is dark, and he looks dangerous. Lethal even. I really think he could if he wanted to.
He doesn’t say anything.
“You need me.”
“Do I? You said you don’t know anything else,” he whispers in reply, a predatory smile creeping over his lips. His eyes don’t leave mine once, and I think I need a whole therapy session just to unpack why that bothers me.
“I think you and I both know that I know more than I told you.”
He grins, and it’s the grin of a man who knew I was full of shit the entire time and is finally being proved right. His eyes finally sweep over my body, setting my skin ablaze. His forearms ripple as he’s momentarily taken out of the moment. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Sydney. And I’d rather not do it the hard way.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“What the easy way is.”
“The easy way is you come with me up to my room where you’ll sleep tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll tell us everything you know, answer all of our questions, and maybe, if you’re lucky, we’ll let you go home where you can get scooped up by other psychopaths who may want you out of the way,” he tells me.
I sniff, my head tilting as I lower my hands slowly, crossing my arms over my chest. “At least buy me dinner first,” is what I decide to say, and only after the words leave my mouth do I think,hey, saying that may not be the greatest idea you’ve ever had.
I’m not sure where the newfound confidence has come from, but I’m happy I’m not as terrified as I was.
“The hard way,” Ronan continues, his gun still pointed at my head, his arm unwavering, “is I bring you down in the basement, throw you in one of our cells, and keep you there until you eventually get so hungry you have no choice but to give us what we want. Or die.”
My eyes narrow as my spine straightens. Neither one of those options sounds good to me, but what choice do I have?
“Why are you doing this?” I ask him quietly.
He shrugs. “We have to stop what your parents started. You know what they’ve done is horrible. I’m not sure why you’re fighting so hard.”
“People tend to fight against what they don’t understand,” I tell him. “I don’t know who you are, or what this place is or who Jerry truly is to me. I don’t know anything right now. I’m not going to work with you like this.”
Ronan considers this, running his other hand through his hair as he lowers his gun just slightly.
But he doesn’t say anything.
We stare at each other, and I swear he can see right through me. He can see everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve hidden deep inside. I know he can’t, but I know that at some point, if I stay here, he’s going to tear me open little by little, and he will. He’ll know everything soon enough.
It feels violating. It feels exciting.
“I choose the easy way,” I murmur, dropping my gaze. Me and basements don’t work. I wonder if he knows that somehow.
But mostly, I know when to stand down.
