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“That’s not me, Dahlia.” His voice lowered, the sincerity of his promise clear in his tone. “Not anymore. I told you, I walked away.”

“This is different!”

There was a scream from outside, and though it was little, it echoed with enough force to shatter glassware. Everyone else just continued eating, happy to ignore the horrible reality that was happening outside their bubble.

I bolted up to go, only to find myself flying backward to land on my feet near the bar. I ran again, getting the same results. My legs went forward as I was tugged back, landing on my bottom before quickly returning to my feet.

“What’s happening?” I yelled in frustration.

A pair of green eyes looked at me through the window of the restaurant door. Terror filled those eyes, tears streaming from them as she cried for help. Her blonde hair, which had been pulled into lovely bouncy pigtails, was in messy disarray.

“I need to help her!” Kicking off my shoes, I ran for the door again.

I didn’t move.

Not even an inch.

My shoes were back in place, my joints ached, and I was livid.

“That’s not our place,” Theo said as he came back inside. “The cops have them. It’s fine now.”

I stared at the girl’s haunted eyes, knowing deep in my soul she’d never be fine. Whatever she’d seen, it would stay with her for the rest of her life.

“You could’ve done something,” I hissed.

“I did. I stopped them and the cops were called.”

Being powerless left me frustrated and pissed. “You could’ve prevented it!”

“Not anymore. I did what I could.”

“I need some fresh air,” I said. Once again, I couldn’t move.

Theo just shook his head. “My job is to protect you. It’s not safe out there yet.”

Taking off as quick as I could, I ran. And ran. And ran.

But I got nowhere.

My feet weren’t even touching the ground, leaving me looking like a cartoon character about to run away.

“Have a drink, gattina,” Theo said, handing me a cocktail.

Slumping in defeat, I turned toward the bar. The mirrored wall let me see that my soft curls were still pinned back, only the fronts escaping as usual. My mascara and eyeliner were a little smudged, so I lifted a napkin to my eyes.

Strings.

Multiple strings were connected to my wrists, elbows, knees, and feet.

Whirling to face Theo, I lifted my finger to point at his face. The movement was clunky and noisy. I creaked and clattered. “I’m your puppet.”

He shook his head. “You’re not.”

“Look!” I rattled some more as I wiggled my arms and gestured to my strings. “You manipulated me. My life. I wanted my Weggies job back and you stopped me from going in today, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And made me get in the SUV? And come in here?”