A black metal box tucked along the arm of the sofa, wedged between the leather and the wall. From across the room I thought it was an end table. From here I see it more clearly.
Dante’s gun safe. The silver keypad glints steely and cold, inches from my fingertips.
I force my eyes to stay glued to Skullcap, not daring to let him catch my attention drifting. “Where is Dante?”
His eyes flash with surprise. “I assumed you knew.”
Crap. I hope I haven’t ruined anything. I recall Dante’s words about needing to go somewhere, or maybe walk Kevin. I pray that’s what’s happening. Hope blooms in my chest. Maybe he’ll rescue me.
The blossom dies quicker than it grew. If Dante returns, he’ll walk right into a trap. Skullcap might think twice about shooting a member of the royal family, but he wouldn’t hesitate to take out its hired gun.
Or the hired gun’s foster pig.
I swallow hard, fighting not to show fear.
Skullcap reads my thoughts again. “Don’t think I won’t put a bullet between your eyes. You think everyone’s delighted to have a member of Dovlano’s royal court ascending to the throne in our country?” He barks out a mean little laugh, and that’s when I put it together. His accent, it’s not Dovlanese. It’s Saxenheim.
“Some of us don’t want you,” he continues, oblivious to the puzzle pieces snapping together in my brain. “Some of us think Prince Stefano should seek other allies.”
I lick my lips and I hold up my hands, sensing an opportunity. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Tell you what—I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Nice try.” He scowls and jerks the gun at me. “Continue.”
I clear my throat and force myself to sit up straighter on the couch. “Yes, well, I believe you have a point about there being better matches for Stefano. If you like, I could pen a letter to the king requesting they consider alternative brides for his son. It would be my pleasure.”
He laughs like I’ve said something terribly amusing. “Charming. You know as well as I do that your family would rather see you dead than see someone else as Stefano’s bride.”
My gut churns as I process what he’s said. He’s right, he’s absolutely right. This thug with a gun pointed at my head has a better grasp of my family than I do. I lick my lips again, conscious of the saltine cracker that used to be my tongue. “So you’re here to kill me.”
He shrugs like he hadn’t really considered it. “Technically, my contract is for Dante. I’m only supposed to kidnap you, put a little scare into the family. Maybe get some ransom while I’m at it.”
He’s talking as though this is a business transaction. Like at any moment I’ll invite him to sit down over a glass of sherry and some cheese. “I have money,” I tell him. “Plenty. If it’s ransom you want—”
“Nah, this is better.” He jerks the gun at me and I flinch. “Getting you out of the picture entirely, that’s a smarter move. No risk that some dumbass Dovlanese princess finds her pretty little ass on the throne.”
Licking his lips, he takes a step closer. “And you do have a great ass. Been noticing it for years. Seems a shame not to get a closer look.”
My skin starts to crawl as I scoot back against the arm of the couch. My hand brushes cold metal, reminding me there’s a cache of firearms just out of reach.
Could I be that brave? Or clever enough to figure out the combination?
It’s a moot point, since Skullcap’s not taking his eyes off me. “Thank you,” I say primly. “I’m not interested.”
“Maybe I am.” He leans closer, offering me the stench of his breath. “Real interested.”
It takes everything I have not to recoil. “Please, let’s talk this through.” I wedge my body deeper into the sofa. “Rape, murder—that’s what you’re considering here?”
Perhaps naming it will spur some sense of shame. Surely there’s a code of honor, even among criminals?
But Skullcap only sneers. “Hey, if you’d like to beg for your life, I’ll consider your position.”
“My—position?”
He licks his lips and points toward his feet. “Down on your knees. That’s where I’d love to see you.”
I’m going to throw up.
I’m going to pass out.
I push those fears aside and force another set of thoughts through the trembling lobes of my brain.
I’m not going to die.
Not without a fight.
Not without telling Bradley I love him.
I’m not sure where that last thought comes from, but the instant it floats to the surface, I cling to it like a life ring.
That day in my living room, it killed me to hear him say it. I love you. The plainest, most important words in the English language, and I couldn’t bring myself to say it back.
But it’s the rest of what he said that hits me square in the gut. With a gun pointed at my chest, with my life flashing before my eyes, it’s Bradley’s voice I hear.
“Plans change. The future you think you’re destined for—it can become something different in the blink of an eye. Sometimes, that’s tragic. But sometimes, it’s the best thing that could happen.”
As Skullcap stares me down, I take a deep breath. This is it. My chance to change the future. To alter the course of everything. I’d prefer to do it without the threat of rape and death, but here we are.
I swallow back my fear, fighting not to show Skullcap how petrified I am. “If you lay a hand on me,” I say with as much menace as I can muster, “my parents will have you hunted down like the animal you are.”
“Maybe.” He laughs again, and dances back like it’s all a big game. “I’m willing to be a martyr for my country if it means keeping it in the hands of pure Saxenheimers.”
Good God, the man is insane. I suppose I already knew it, but hearing him speak drives home the point.
Slowly, I let my hand drop to the arm of the sofa. I keep it there, waiting to see if his eyes follow the movement. Instead, he keeps his gaze fixed on mine, dropping briefly to my legs as I cross and uncross them.
A lightbulb flickers in my brain.
Letting my fingers skim the top of the gun safe, I shift my legs again and watch his gaze linger over my ankles. “Who sent you?” I don’t care at this point, but I want to keep him distracted.
Want him to miss the fact that my fingers just brushed the top of the keypad, the numbers smooth beneath the ovals of my nails. It’s an electronic combination lock, the kind that requires a combination of numbers.
Or letters.
The raised figures beneath my fingertips tell me each digit corresponds with a handful of alphabetic characters, just like a phone keypad. I file this information away as my eyes stay glued to Skullcap’s.
He sneers at my question. “None of your damn business who sent me.” He leans one shoulder against the wall, enjoying the game, or maybe the sight of my dress hem riding up my calf.
I pray this new angle takes my hand that much farther from his view. Fingering the keypad, I commit each button to memory. As I do, Lily’s voice lilts through my brain.
“You’ve got a great rack, girl. The kind of rack that makes men stupid.”