Page 73 of Carnival
“Hudson’s been monitoring Vivian closely.’’ He sits back down, touching the spot where I’d strangled him. “Well, the organization itself. Aside from the shit you already know, nothing happened. So, earlier today, Rose came home, and well… someone waited.’’
Chills spread through my body, anger bubbling beneath the surface. I don’t interrupt him, allowing him to speak, but my hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles turning white.
“It’s Wyatt. Aria’s ex-boyfriend, which is why Aria wants you out. And congratulations, you’ll be out soon.’’
“Does she know where Rose is?”
“She suspects, but all of them are looking for her.’’
“That Wyatt bastard… tell me everything you know about him.’’
Casper immediately starts filling me in on the Aria and Wyatt situation, as well as the part Rose played in it. I knew she was helping Aria with something and that they went to scout for information a while ago, but I didn’t know they were planning to kill the motherfucker. Well, knowing Aria — which I don’t, I can only assume— she’ll get Wyatt alive and have him participate in the game of Kortlek.
The game is rather intriguing.
Aria, Arlo, Cove, and Blair are the hunters. They gather the lowest of the low, the worst criminals possible, put them in one location, and then hunt them for fun. Each prey is given a single weapon of their choosing, and the reward for killing the four hunters is massive, but it hasn’t happened. It will never happen. Those four, as much as I fucking hate to admit it, are very fucking good at what they do.
“So,’’ I grip the table more, and if it weren’t metal, I’m pretty sure it would’ve snapped in half. “Let me get this straight. You were supposedly monitoring Rosalie, and somehow, you didn’t see her get fucking kidnapped?”
“I can’t be at two places at fucking once, James,’’ he scoffs. “I was on my way here when I got a message from Aria. So, I’m here now, telling you this. I’m unsure whether or not you have any belongings in here, but if you don’t, pack up. You’ll be a free man soon.’’
I don’t get to respond; the door opens, and two guards enter. They don’t ask anything, nor do they utter a word. Instead, each grabs me by the forearm and starts dragging me out of the room. I don’t fight it — my thoughts are preoccupied with Rose.
Once I’m alone in my cell, I sit on the most uncomfortable bed ever, lean against the filthy wall, and stare at the one across from me. There isn’t a single inch that is bare —all of it is covered in images of Rose.
From the past two years. Everything I’ve missed. Every smile, every night she spent alone, every milestone I wasn’t there to support her. Everything was documented, and everything is on the wall as a reminder of why I’m here, why I’m doing this.
To protect her.
Everything I’ve done in my life was to protect her. Everything I’ve ever done was to ensure she couldn’t be killed or worse, taken away from me. Not now.
My eyes skim through every individual photo stuck to the wall, and the desire to see her, to touch and own her, almost wins. I take a deep breath, holding onto the blazing fury in my veins. It’s the sole reason I’ve survived so long without her.
And one of the first people I’ll kill will be the motherfucker that dared to kiss her.
28
Rose
Breathing is hard, as it seems. I struggle to breathe, and my lungs start stinging. With a lot of effort, I peel my eyes open, but it hurts more than I’d like to admit. I try to adjust my eyesight to the lighting, blinking rapidly. Every bone in my body is aching, and I’m having difficulties realizing what’s happened.
Then, I glance down and realize that I’m tied up.
Memories from last night start surfacing back to my mind, and a groan comes from me. All I remember is getting home after another failed attempt to see James, and then… nothing. Something hit the back of my head, and everything went black.
My anxiety starts peeking its ugly head, the thoughts filling with dark ideas. If this was Vivian’s doing, then I’m as good as dead. There’s nothing I could possibly do; if she wants me dead, I’ll be dead before I can properly breathe again.
The silence is killing me on the inside.
This seems to be a basement of sorts — and it reeks. I try to get used to the stench, not wanting to even imagine what the cause of it is, but my nose almost bleeds at the intensity.
“Breathe, Rosalie,’’ I try to pep-talk myself. “You’ll be okay.’’
As if on cue, the door opens, creaking. My eyes snap forward, and the biggest, most massive sigh of relief leaves my lips. My shoulders relax; the tension slowly leaves my body as I lean back in the chair I’m tied to.
“Oh,’’ I snort. “It’s you.’’
The man in front of me is Wyatt Chambers, Aria’s ex-boyfriend. This vile man drove her to the point of attempting suicide after he isolated and mentally abused her and caused her to reach the brink of a depression so deep that I never thought she’d pull out of it.
