Page 16
16
RYLEE
T he elevator ride to Cecilia’s private room is quiet, similar to the car journey here. Everything smells like death and sanitizer. As we were pulling out the compound, looking back in the side mirror, I saw Thomas and Elijah dragging something wrapped in plastic across the street. Rain was on the end of their driveway with her arms crossed. I would be shocked if she wasn’t mumbling obscenities, and she’s having a baby with Elijah. The woman is a saint.
The elevator stops, the steel doors slide open, and stark white walls greet us. Nathaniel, who is wearing a crisp white V-neck tee, jeans that hug his tight ass perfectly, black framed glasses, and black combat boots leads the way. Lifting his inked hand, he waves for me to follow him. “Puppet, this way.” He’s calling me that to piss me off. I am not his goddamn puppet, not after this afternoon.
I try to show restraint and focus on the space around us.
The halls are sparse, with minimal staff, and there are no signs of other patients whenever I glance into a passing room. Ahead I see two people standing guard. Pride fills my chest as I notice one is a female. Fucking badass. They are standing against the wall with a closed wooden door separating them. This must be Cecilia’s room.
“Where is everyone?” slips from between my lips.
Nathaniel is quick to respond. “Secured floor.”
The Exiled are connected, this shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. This is a hospital where sick people should be getting tended to, yet they have managed to shut down an entire floor for a girl. Reason number seven thousand four hundred and thirteen on why I hate them. The level of entitlement is appalling.
“And before you get on your high horse, these two are Antichrist.”
Rolling my eyes, I’m still disgusting.
But he doesn’t stop there. “And D and I have accommodated the other patients in this wing at a neighboring town's private facility. We need to keep her close, familiar, and in our own territory.”
What does he want—a round of applause or a Nobel Peace Prize for him and his little buddy?
Reaching the door, the two guards give Nathaniel and me a nod, allowing us entrance into the room. We don’t knock, instead, we walk right in. Immediately the beeping of machines catches my attention, they surround one side of Cecilia. IV bags and cords lead to the frail girl asleep in the bed. Her eyes have dark bruising around them, cuts with stitching to help heal them, and a brace keeping her nose straight. Moving down her body, her blanket covers most of it, but her exposed arms and hands are just as bad.
What did they do to her?
A deep voice startles me. “They had her hung upside down, attached to a cross... naked. She was barely recognizable. They beat her…” Darian’s voice cracks. He looks exhausted; this is a broken man. “I thought she died. I thought they raped her before killing her. I thought it all happened because of me. But then we found a pulse, a rape kit eliminated my second biggest fear, though some of it did happen because of me and who she is and what she meant to him. She was promised to him but I promised her to me, and she ended up liking it. But the biggest reason this all happened was because Dalton has a death wish, and I will happily fulfill it.”
Nathaniel walks to stand next to his best friend, hand on his shoulder. “We will, brother. I promise. Things are in play, trust me.” I wince, but I’m curious. Was Brad’s head in his yard a part of this plan?
“Some of it has moved up the timeline, thanks to my boy. He did some redecorating today. But we will get that son of a bitch right where we want him, then make him pay.”
Darian’s head hangs, and he nods in understanding while clenching his fists.
Feminine grunts pull my attention. Cecilia’s head is slowly moving side to side. Darian jumps forward, stroking her hair and whispering into her ear, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. It’s just a dream.”
Night terrors. She’s going to need therapy after this; you can’t survive all of this and keep it in. It will only kill her from the inside out.
Without hesitation, my body moves forward and my hands hold hers as I stand next to the bed, trying to comfort her. I’m a girl’s girl and we stand and stick together.
The pad of my thumb rubs circles against Cecilia’s hand, it’s ice cold, likely from her injuries and lack of circulation.
Cecilia’s lips move and her teeth begin to chatter. Darian’s lips meet her forehead and hushed words are spoken, trying to coax her out of her nightmare.
It takes time, but her eyes start to flutter open and her body tenses. Right away she sees me and becomes breathless. “Who is she?” Cecilia says, panicked.
“No, baby. It’s okay, she’s with us. Rylee is here to see you. She’s your cousin,” Darian explains before my presence sends his wife into a panic attack.
Hesitation follows, rightfully so. It takes a few moments for his words to resonate with her. “Okay,” is finally whispered and relief washes over me. I never want to trigger anyone and it would have killed me if my presence did that to her.
“We are going to give you two some privacy. Darian and I will be right outside; no one is getting in here. I promise, Ceci. I would suggest your husband go home to shower because he stinks like sweaty boxers, but we know how that conversation will go,” Nathaniel tries to joke to lighten the mood. His hand is still on Darian’s shoulder, and he squeezes it. “Let’s go, brother.”
He nods, then makes sure this is okay with his wife. “Are you okay with that?”
She looks at the three of us, scanning the room. “I’m still so tired. But yes, just for a couple minutes.”
“Thank you,” I pipe up, still holding her frail hand. Cecilia’s head turns to me and a half smile forms on her face. At the same time, Nathaniel takes the spare chair and brings it over to me so I can sit. I don’t thank him, he needs to eat a bag of dicks before he hears those words from me.
Lowering to sit, I keep my focus on Cecilia but speak to the boys. “Go. Our five minutes of girl time has started.”
Darian is hesitant, scared, and nervous to leave his wife’s side, but he fights his internal voices and leaves, following Nathaniel. I wait until I hear the door closing before speaking. “They may be old, but they still have impeccable hearing, it has to be the hearing aid implants,” I joke. Her smile gets bigger. It doesn't quite meet her eyes, but it’s getting there.
“My cousin?” Cecilia quietly asks.
Not only is family new to me, but also to her. We both lost our parents because of The Exiled. Yay, trauma bonding.
I don’t dare say it out loud, I can be outspoken but I’m not a bitch on purpose… unless it’s Nathaniel.
“Yeah, Greta just told me last night. I lost my mom to them too. I never knew the details, but always knew who was responsible.” My gaze falls, and my breathing slows. “Brad is—was—my father. We found out Dalton killed him recently. He and my mom... Then I was born, which technically made me his heir. But he had her killed, silencing Greta out of fear, and later Brad had Dalton. Which is why the Antichrist started; she wanted to avenge her daughter and stop The Exiled. We aren’t sure, but we think Dalton may know I am his sister, which threatens his throne. I’m staying at the Sinclair compound just in case,” I finish explaining, giving her as little detail as I can, to not overwhelm her all at once.
Looking back up, her face is neutral, but her lips are chapped. Reaching into my sweatpants pocket, I pull out my lip balm and ask, “May I?” She nods, accepting my help. I squeeze the tube and apply some of the contents onto my finger before lightly applying it onto her lips. This moment is intimate, not sexually, but a connection is forming and trust is building between us.
It’s my job to build trust, so it’s easy for me to read once it's established and this small, kind gesture has done so.
Her warm breath tickles my finger as the cracked skin on her lips scratches against my skin. She still has an open cut that I delicately go around.
“You will make it out of this and be okay. And I promise to be with you through it the entire time, whenever and as often as you need me. We are family. We stick together.” I’ve only ever had Greta; to have another family member is precious to me and I will not let this opportunity pass us by.
A single tear falls from her tired eyes, but I don’t swipe it away. It’s good that she feels and is allowing herself to.
Leaning back, her lips glisten and even with just that small change, she looks more alive.
“Cousins?” She whispers, still trying to grasp the concept I have had a head start on understanding.
“Cousins. I’m not sure how, but I am positive it involves some fucked-up family tree.” I laugh thinking about it. “And technically, I’m the Queen of The Exiled. Fucking insane.”
I notice her eyes move off of me and slowly shift to her hands. I follow her sight, wondering what she wants me to see. Cecilia rolls her hands over and I am shocked. It’s mortifying. Bandages cover the area, but clearly that savage nailed stakes into her palms when hanging her on the cross. In one quick movement, my body rises and the chair is pushed backward.
“We are going to kill him, cousin. He will pay for his sins.” I am enraged and unable to comprehend why this specifically prompts this powerful response out of everything I’ve seen or heard. But this is the last fucking straw for me.
Composing myself to not alarm or startle her, I relax my shoulders and look back at her softly. Her lip is quivering, and before I am able to apologize, she interjects, “Promise?”
The corner of my lip rises. This chick is a fucking badass. I am giddy with renewed excitement. “I’ll record it so you can watch it over and fucking over.”
“Thank you.”
With that, the boys join us back in the room, always knowing when to ruin the moment.
Darian must see Cecilia’s emotions riddled on her face because he rushes over, worried. Cupping her face gently, he looks helpless and defeated but also concerned. “What happened?” He is a man who is tired but is living and being strong for her, the love of his life. Cecilia is keeping him from breaking down; she is giving him strength, and I’m not sure Darian realizes that.
She lifts her hand and places it on his forearm. “Nothing. I’m just happy.”
He is shocked by her response, and Nathaniel jumps in next. “We should leave them, Puppet.”
My face must say it all because a tiny giggle comes from my new best friend.
For the first time since all this chaos has begun, I am excited for what the future holds.
I sneeze not once or twice but three times; something fuzzy keeps brushing up against my nose and tickling it. My body is heavy from the most divine slumber I’ve had in years.
The tiniest little meow can be heard. My brow furrows, confused because I know Nathaniel Sinclair does not own any animals other than this deranged son.
Then it nudges my chin.
My eyes squint open, my vision blurry, and while I adjust, I see a black fluffy shadow. Blinking a few more times, everything starts to become clear. It’s a kitten.
“What are you doing here, little baby?” I ask in my cutesy voice, as one would do when speaking to the most precious thing you have ever seen. Light peeks through the curtains, allowing me to see it slightly better. The kitten steps back and paper crinkles under its paws. My hands pad around, trying to find the elusive piece of paper. Once I grab ahold of it, I sit up against the headboard and flick the bedside lamp on. My eyes adjust further, and I read the note.
Rylee… I’m sorry. She’s yours.
- N
This sly motherfucker got me an apology kitten, and I absolutely adore her already. She won’t solve anything, he needs to fucking grovel, but I will keep her and love her forever.
Placing the note down, I scoop up my new baby. Her collar is a beautiful rose gold chain link with a matching solid heart hanging down from her chest.
Proudly, I declare, “And I shall name you Karma.”
Whilst I am basking in all this furry cuteness, a knock at my door interrupts us. Looking at my clock, it’s just before noon, so it’s not technically an inappropriate time of day to bother someone, but if it’s Nathaniel, he can still fuck off. Words hurt.
“Come in,” I shout.
The door cracks open, and to my surprise, it’s Thomas peeking back at me.
“I initially came to grab you because I wanted to show you something cool I found, but now I see you have a kitten and nothing else matters.” She is already melting hearts; such a good girl taking after her mama.
“Want to pet her? She smells like new kitten and I can’t get enough.” I am literally melting.
Thomas scurries in and reaches his hand out to pet her, but Karma hisses and he steps back with his hands up as if she is the police saying, Stick ’em up .
His words are rushed. “I come in peace,” he pleads, but each time his hand comes out, she hisses.
“Has Thomas been up to no good?” I ask rhetorically and still in my baby voice.
Thomas is taken aback, but I know the company he keeps, so of course he has been naughty. But remembering his initial reason for coming to visit does pique my interest.
“Give me five and you can show me whatever it is you found.”
He backs up toward the door slowly, keeping eye contact with Karma the entire time, not disconnecting until he is out the door and it is closed behind him.
With Karma scooped up, I get up and head to the bathroom while giving her firm instructions. “Make sure you bite him if he’s tricking Mommy. And always watch out for his leader with the skull face and the crazy eyes. Actually… all boys. Unless otherwise instructed.”
I leave Karma inside. I am already in love with her. The body farm is still decorating Nathaniel’s backyard and Elijah doesn’t appear to be in any rush to clean it up. Karma is still a baby; she doesn’t need to be exposed to this fuckery yet.
In an oversized black sweater that hangs past my knees and a pair of soft Uggs, I follow Thomas to this mysterious thing he needed to show me out back.
It’s a cold day and the crisp air tingles on my cheeks. I have my sweater hood up to help keep me warm. Following Thomas, we walk past the new decor, my nose turns up and my face screams disgusted. This is the strangest shit I have ever seen. Brad’s skin is starting to sag off his face; his eyes are the worst, the skin isn't even attached to them anymore, and the hollows are visible underneath like the flesh there melted away.
Moving my focus, I look over to the white shed in the yard's far corner, all in an effort to keep whatever food is left in my stomach down.
Thomas points in the same direction. “This has some of the coolest stuff in it I have ever seen.” I’m caught off guard. why is Thomas snooping around Sinclair’s property?
My stomach drops, and alarm bells begin to go off in my head. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Thomas,” I say hesitantly.
Stopping in my tracks, I go to look around. Something feels off, and before I am able to take another step, hands fly over my mouth and a knife is raised to my neck.
“Keep walking.”
Elijah.
Rolling my eyes, I humor him. He won’t hurt me. Nathaniel would be pissed and Greta would kill him.
Thomas uses the special scanner to unlock the shed and opens the door, and Elijah pushes me in. The space is cold, dusty, and not well-maintained.
“Sit,” Elijah demands, so I do by hopping up onto the exposed counter space.
Thomas closes the door and darkness welcomes us.
“I watched. I noticed, and I don’t fucking like it.” I can feel the venom dripping off each of his words; he hates me, and I fucking love it.
“Aw, you don’t like me playing with Daddy?” I say sarcastically, completely unfazed by him.
An evil cackle erupts from his direction. “Play with my daddy all you want, but get your leeching claws out of him.”
Thomas clears his throat. “Boss, he has purchased her a kitten.”
“Snitches get stitches, Thomas, surely Greta taught you that?” Karma was right, Thomas is a very naughty boy. I follow up, asking, “Where do your loyalties lie?”
“Ah, yes, Ms. Vandenberg. With the Antichrist and anyone who is a part of my efforts to remove Dalton from his throne.” His words are shaky, he's nervous now.
Elijah slams his hand down next to me, and shouts, “This is my interrogation.”
So, I invite him to continue, “As you wish, please proceed. But, Thomas, you should know, technically, I am your Queen; remember that the next time you are tempted to be disloyal to Greta and the family.”
“You will never be recognized as Queen. The days of The Exiled are numbered. And if you insist on being called Queen, then I am forced to wonder, whose side are you loyal to?”
He’s quick.
Turning my scare tactic against his servant against me.
Well fucking played.
“My cousin, Greta, and oddly fucking enough your family.”
I can feel his breath on my face now, Elijah has leaned forward. “Watch yourself, I don’t always wait for permission to play.”
Then it occurs to me. This is just a boy protecting his father. Not wanting to see him left hurt and heartbroken. He’s noticed this arrangement is different from the others and is catching on possibly without realizing it and unable to properly articulate his feelings.
And, to be honest, I don’t even know what this is.
“At least I got a kitten instead of pills.” I take a low blow at his deceased mom, not wanting to let on to what I have just figured out. And Nathaniel isn’t the one hurting me… because I am hurting myself.
Emotions rush up my face, I can feel my cheeks warm. Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I push them all the way back down. And I am grateful we are in the dark.
“I killed her. I hated her. He gave her pills to keep her tolerable. Then my step-father in his culty cloak and mask continued feeding mom’s habit because he felt the same, found her intolerable. He only used her to get to me, his weapon.” His words are soft and spoken against my skin, they send a shiver down my spine. At least he had a mother, but he doesn’t have the capability to even understand how lucky he is.
I feel the cool tip of the knife against my throat once more. “I will kill you if you aren’t careful. My dad doesn’t always give me permission when I play.”
His final threat packs a punch, because I know he means it, Elijah has no reason to lie. We sit in silence, letting his words linger in the space around us, when the ringing of a cell phone interrupts it.
Thomas pulls it out of his pocket, and the light from it shines. Answering it, you can faintly hear a loud, panicked voice on the other end, but I can’t quite make it out.
As fast as he answered, he hangs up.
His words are spoken fast, and his tone is alarmed. “We have to go. It was Greta. It’s The Ranch!”