Page 40 of Carnival
The emptiness behind his eyes scares me. It’s intense and dark, like the deepest abyss that’s about to swallow me whole. A pitch-black hole that has no exit, there to permanently keep me hostage.
“Let’s get one fucking thing straight, hellion,’’ he leans in, his words coming out in a husky, low whisper that causes my entire body to be covered in goosebumps. “I don’t need anything to hold over your head, because if I so desired, you’d be locked up for the rest of your life, and you wouldn’t be able to do shit about it. If I wanted to, I’d take you somewhere far from everyone you love, somewhere so dark and twisted that even the Devil himself wouldn’t dare enter. So this power play you’re on about? I don’t need your memories to use them against you — I already have you right where I want you.’’
His hand tightens around my throat, as if to prove a point, but it doesn’t deter me. If anything, it makes me more eager to escape him, to prove that he cannot put me in a box like I’m some sort of a doll.
“Let go,’’ I grit out, hands fisting by my side.
A chuckle slips from him, and somehow, I know I’m screwed. James pulls back slightly, enough to look me in the eyes. They’re still as devoid of emotions as ever, but something akin to cruelty glimmers behind the depths of his dark eyes. My breath hitches in my throat, my stomach twisting.
I’m about to respond, but James’ hand leaves my throat at the sudden sound of footsteps. He turns around, shoulders rigid and hand reaching for his gun — but he’s a second too late.
All I see is the back of a gun whacking the side of his head with a lot of force, then James slowly slumping down to his knees, falling down unconscious. There’s a small wound where the gun had hit him, blood dripping down the side of his face, and my heart sinks to my feet.
Though, it only worsens when I look up.
Arlo De Santis stands tall in front of me, his pearly white hair shining under the dimmed lighting of the carnival. His arms are folded in front of his chest, still holding the gun tightly as he stares down at me.
Those light eyes of his pierce through mine, and I’m at a loss for words. His jaw clenches, his patience wearing thin, and his brow twitching in annoyance. He clears his throat, then opens his mouth, the words chilling me.
“Rosalie, explain yourself.’’
Damn it, Aria, you little snitch.
16
Rose
“What in the world were you thinking?”
Arlo doesn’t raise his voice — he doesn’t need to. I can tell just by the way he’s staring at me that I’m in trouble, and it doesn’t help that Aria’s right behind him, looking at me with an unreadable expression on her face.
For a moment, I solely focus on my best friend. She’s leaning against the wall, arms folded in front of her chest, tapping her fingers against her forearm impatiently. She’s waiting for an opportunity to bite, and I’m not sure how much longer she’ll be able to hold back.
“I’m sorry,’’ I mumble. “But there was no reason to call Arlo, Aria,’’ I sigh.
And that’s enough for her to snap.
“Excuse me?” She pushes off the wall and strides toward me, anger clear on her face. “For two whole fucking days I had no idea whether you were dead or alive! I was worried sick, Rose! I didn’t know if the bastard had done something to you,something that he could never come back from! And you’re telling me there was no reason to call Arlo?! Oh, you best wait until we’re home. Hudson wants a word with you.’’
It takes me a moment to comprehend the severity of her words, and once it clicks in my head, my whole expression falters, a look of unease taking over. I take a deep breath, my palms growing sweaty.
“You told Hudson?”
“Of course I told him!” Aria snaps. “Dad found out we were in New Orleans the morning after you’d gone missing, so I had to tell him. I know you may not see them as your parents, but they do see you as their own! And he is fucking worried sick! So is Noelle! Arlo dropped the mission he had going on, which he never does, by the way, just to come and help me find you! Do you not understand how severe this is? How serious could it be? You could’ve died, Rose! What was I supposed to do? Pray that you’ll somehow turn up okay?”
Aria’s voice is rising with each word she speaks, and for the first time in a while, I see her eyes starting to glisten up with tears. Tears of anger, worry, and deeply rooted love for me. That’s when I came to finally see how much this has affected her.
While I was with James — more or less enjoying myself — she was out here, looking for me and worrying if I was still even breathing. My heart sinks at the hurt on her face, and I gently pull her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her.
She sighs, hugging me back, holding me tightly.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,’’ she mumbles, not letting go just yet. In fact, her hold on me just tightens, and I don’t have itin me to let go. Instead, I whisper apologies in her ear, softly stroking her hair.
“I’m really sorry,’’ I mutter. “I’m okay.’’
Slowly, Aria distances herself from me, wiping a stray tear off her cheek. Arlo clears his throat, and I’m reminded of his presence, to which I turn to look at him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just inspecting me, head to toe, for any injuries. His eyes are on my hickeys for a moment longer than necessary. He lifts a brow, though he’s not amused.
“Did you… consent to those?”
