Page 46 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
“Do you have any idea or suspects?”
“I don’t understand. Was there an attack this evening? Why are we meeting now?”
The noise that filters through my speakers grates on my nerves.
But then another video window opens up as someone else joins the chat.
Benedikt.
He sits staring into the camera, his eyes tired, dark shadows beneath them. “Sorry I’m late,” he mutters, not offering an apology. He looks exhausted, drained, as though he hasn’t slept in weeks.
“You okay, man?” Nestor asks.
Benedikt nods, not saying anything about what he’s been going through. He doesn’t have to. I already know he’s worried about his sister. My spies have been keeping me up to date on his constant, incessant search for her. He hasn’t stopped, not for a single day.
“Jeez, he looks bad,” Emmanuil says, leaning away from the camera.
Guilt sits like a stone in my chest.
It’s my fault he looks like that.
It was my intention to tell him by now, to rub it in that I’m the one who has his sister.
It was my intention to hold it as a power play over him, a negotiation tool, or a show of control.
But I haven’t told him yet.
The idea of his pain brings me some kind of satisfaction despite the guilt. I know Belle is safe and that no harm has come to her. He doesn’t need to know yet. He can struggle for a while longer.
I lean back, listening to everyone speak. Benedikt is short and abrupt when people ask him questions. I don’t speak directly to him. And I don’t mention his sister.
As I sit there in silence, waiting for the meeting to end, I realize there is another reason why I haven’t told him that I have her.
The moment he knows, everyone else will know, too.
Once that information is out, there is no telling what the playing field will be and who will be on whose side. And moreimportantly, there’s no telling how much longer I will be able to hold onto her for.
I am far from ready to let Belle leave.
At this point, I don’t ever want her to leave. She’s the reason I look forward to going back home after work each day.
I don’t know when it became that, but it has.
She belongs to me. She brings something to my life that I’m not willing to give up.
I can’t tell him, or anyone else, that I have her.
I’ll hold on to her until I have no other choice.
The meeting slowly drags to an end, and both Emmanuil and I close our laptops and breathe heavy sighs of relief.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarls, as frustrated as I am. “I can’t believe those fucking arrogant assholes dragged us here for that. Do you think they have no lives, and they need to do this shit to create some excitement for themselves?” he snorts with laughter.
“That’s not a bad theory. Especially the older guys. They see their power slipping, they pull moves like this to try and show everyone they still have it.”
“What was your problem tonight?” he asks, narrowing his eyes towards me.
“What do you mean?” I say defensively.
