Page 68 of The Immortal's One
Shit.
I inhale a shaky breath, dread threatening to suffocate me as I force out my next question. “Even though Des says I’m not hisOne, the rebellion will still come after me, won’t they?”
A shadow falls over his brown eyes. “I’m afraid so.”
My head drops, and I stare at the pebbled path beneath my feet, shoving down the lump crawling up my throat.
“What if Des announces that I’m not hisOne?” I lift my gaze, clinging to that tiny flicker of hope. “What if I state that I refuse to bond with him? Do you think the rebellion would leave me alone then?”
The weight of his silence is an answer that sits heavy on my chest.
My voice trembles. “I don’t want any part of this.”
“I know.” Thane rests his hand on my shoulder, a gesture meant to be reassuring, but it does the opposite. I feel more trapped than ever.
“I just want to go home.” Frustrated tears burn my eyes.
“I know,” he repeats, his voice tinged with regret. “I’m sorry, Darcie. Truly.”
Is he, though?
Thane is the reason I’m here.
Des told him I’m not hisOne. If the brothers are as powerful as Thane claims, there must be a way for them to convince their fellow Immortals to leave me in peace.
But Thane doesn’t want to let me go. The truth is in his eyes.
Despite what Des says, Thane believes I’m his brother’sOne. And until I can prove otherwise, I’m stuck here.
Thane may not wish me harm, but he’s no ally.
And I can’t afford to forget that.
20
It’sday seven of my captivity, and my patience is wearing thin.
Each passing day without talking to my dad makes the worry harder to bear
Bella promised she’d ask Thane for my phone after mentioning that Des found it in the bathroom at Robertson’s. He’d handed it over to Thane for safekeeping the day I arrived, but the Immortal leader still hasn’t returned it to me.
Which isn’t cool.
Ineedto talk to my dad. I need to hear him tell me he’s doing okay.
The fact I haven’t spoken to Lome since we made our deal only makes my anxiety worse. He has to be avoiding me… which means he could be reneging on our deal.
I dig my nails into my palms, needing something—anything—to stop me from exploding.
I have to act.
I won’t sit around and wait for the Immortals to sort outtheir rebellion problem. Not without assurance that Lome followed through on his promise.
That’s why I’m on the third floor, moving from room to room, searching for a phone, computer—hell, I’ll even take a fax machine. I just need something that will let me contact Dad.
As I rifle through the bright sitting areas and untouched guest bedrooms, I can’t help but notice the ridiculous number of priceless artifacts around me: paintings by Renaissance masters, sculptures from ancient Greece, items that would make my dad lose his mind.
“This stuff seriously belongs in a museum,” I mutter, kneeling to admire a stone masonry set sitting under a narrow table between the room’s massive windows.
