Page 17 of Carnival

Rose

“W hat 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 it in 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?”

“Yes,’’ I responded immediately. James is in many ways fucked up, but everything intimate we did, I wanted it just as much as he did, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly while he was doing it.

Arlo nods. “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or creeped out, but I am glad he didn’t do anything to you.’’

Aria takes a seat on a nearby chair, our bags already packed. The house we’ve rented is wiped clean, and I highly doubt there will be a single trace of us ever spending time here.

“So… how angry are Hudson and Noah?”

Aria winces slightly. “Mom is… well, worried mostly. Dad, on the other hand, is pissed. More at me than at you,’’ she scoffs. “Apparently, I’m the bad influence here, and it’s somehow my fault you got semi-kidnapped. Overall, we’re in it when we get home.’’

I groan, slumping onto the couch and covering my face with my hands. A beat of silence passes, and aside from Arlo’s shuffling while he gathered the last bits of our items, nothing can be heard. Aria doesn’t speak, and I’m too mentally exhausted to properly process the situation.

Until I remember one very important thing.

“Wait,’’ I lift my head from my hands, eyes darting between the De Santis siblings. “Where is James?”

After Arlo knocked him out and asked me for an explanation, he didn’t really give me the time to provide one. Instead, he dragged me by the elbow out of the carnival and immediately drove us here. Did he just leave James unconscious out there? With a bleeding wound?

No, Rosalie.

You shouldn’t be worried about him. He doesn’t deserve it.

But… I can’t help it. Something in my chest aches at the thought of him bleeding out in the secluded part of the carnival and possibly bleeding to death. It stirs all sorts of emotions out of me, concern being number one.

“He’s fine,’’ Arlo responds. “For now.’’

“For now?”

He nods. “He’s on his way to New York as we speak.’’

“Oh, no,’’ I mumble.

I know exactly why he’s being taken to New York.

If Hudson is as angry as I think he is, then James is in for it.

I am not even sure that he’ll even survive Hudson’s wrath, because if Hudson is one thing, he is fucking ruthless when someone touches the people he loves, especially his children. Somehow, that includes me too.

“Oh, yes,’’ Aria snorts. “That will be fun to watch.’’

“You think he’ll take him to the basement?” Arlo asks, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Because then we need to hurry. I want to watch.’’

Blood drains from my face, and my body goes rigid. Fear slowly starts running through my veins, and I’m unable to even blink, let alone try to argue with them. The basement he mentioned is their torture chamber, for lack of a better word.

I’ve never witnessed what goes down there, but Aria says that no amount of cleaning can get rid of the stench of blood. It’s been used for years, and not a single person who entered the basement left alive.

“No,’’ I croak out. “He can’t do that,’’ I whisper.

Aria lifts a brow. “It’s Dad we’re talking about. You can try stopping him, though I doubt he’ll listen.’’

“Let’s go.’’ I jolt up from my seat. I’m grabbing my bag before the two can even respond, and I’m out of the door in record time. Arlo’s deep laughter follows, but I don’t find the situation funny at all.

Given the chance, Hudson will kill James. He will torture him and kill him in cold blood, just like he’d done to many people before. In a month’s time, he won’t even remember James’ name, let alone his face or who he was. It’s terrifying to even think about it.

James is a narcissistic asshole who’s definitely in need of a good ass whooping, but not to be killed. I can’t let Hudson kill him. James is the only source of information I have for my past, and if he dies, the questions will remain unanswered until the day I die.

My hands tremble as I take a seat in the back of the car, and Arlo slides into the driver’s seat, with Aria taking the passenger’s seat. The two are chatting, as if James isn’t about to die, their conversation mainly directed toward how Hudson will punish her for taking me to New Orleans.

I don’t keep up with the conversation; I can’t. My heart almost jumps out of my chest at the mere thought of what Hudson will do, and I start slowly dissociating from reality. I want to scream, cry, and beg Hudson not to touch James.

My throat goes dry as Arlo drives off, taking us to the airport. Yet, I can’t focus. My mind is consumed with James, hands trembling on my lap. He can’t die. He can’t. If he dies, I don’t know how I’ll survive it.

I call James the obsessed one, yet here I am, obsessing over him like a little fangirl. I try to tell myself that it’s because he has the key to my past, that it’s only because he can be very useful.

But on a different level, I understand that it’s much deeper than that. I need James. Not just for my past — I need him. I’m not sure when it started, whether it was when he took my virginity or when he took me out of the carnival, but I know that I will not let him die.

I’ve never had anyone to call my own, and he’s the closest thing to mine that I have.

I can’t lose that.

◆◆◆

The flight home was a nightmare. Neither Arlo nor Aria spoke much, and it was suffocating, to say the least. My heart was thumping against my ribcage, and every time one of the siblings would throw a jab at me, it would skip a beat.

For the most part, the drive from the airport was fine.

They’d still maintain the silence, but neither of them could contain themselves from teasing me.

But it wasn’t funny then; it isn’t funny now.

They’re too accustomed to laughing and joking about these situations, and for the first time, it makes me uncomfortable.

Aria pushes the door open of their gigantic manor and steps inside.

Arlo’s right behind me, as if to make sure I wouldn’t run away again.

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and sigh, walking into the deadly silent manor.

It’s already morning, around nine o’clock, and both Noelle and Hudson should be somewhere near.

As if on cue, the faint, soft sound of footsteps from the right side, where the big living room is, reaches my ears, though barely.

They’re too quiet, almost unnoticeable, but I practically grew up here, and I learned how to pick up on these things — and the quiet, almost silent footsteps are precise, deliberate, and purposeful, and my heart sinks to my feet.

A part of me had hoped it would’ve been Noelle. But no — it’s Hudson.

The moment he comes into view, my anxiety spikes.

He doesn’t say a word, nor does he pay attention to either of his biological kids — his eyes are on me.

Briefly, he looks at me, head to toe, as if to inspect for wounds.

A small flick of relief passes behind his eyes when he sees I’m perfectly fine.