I expect Daddy to make me feel this way, but never my siblings. Or my bodyguard. Or my fake boyfriend, for that matter.
My lip curls upward in resignation. If they don’t want me around, I won’t linger. I don’t need their pity friendship. Besides, I’d die if they saw me in my old bathrobe. Obviously it was a bad call to wear it outside the confines of my room. A mistake I won’t repeat.
Squaring my shoulders, I slink down the hallway and around the corner toward the vending machine. Hopefully Adrienne and the others won’t hear the machine spitting out my late night sustenance.
I’m standing in front of the vending machine tapping my credit card with my long fingernails when a zing slides up the back of my neck. I pivot on the balls of my feet and scan the hall. There’s no one here.
Get it together, Charlotte. No one is following you. Gul has made you a paranoid freak. Just get your chocolate bar and go back upstairs.
A door creaks, making me go still.
Utterly ridiculous.
This is an old building. It makes noise. That doesn’t mean there’s someone lurking in the shadows, waiting to eviscerate me.
Making my choice, I put my card into the vending machine and reach for the screen to tap in my selection.
A low rustle behind me makes my eyes go wide. Before I can react, someone drags a black cloth down over my face. A solid, heavy body brushes against my back. Hands pull the fabric tight over my nose and mouth. Smothering me.
Reaching up, I claw and scratch at their arms, trying to loosen their hold on the cloth. It’s no use. Panic unspools in my belly, threatening to rip out every stitch of my self-defense training. Fear is laying siege to my body.
Opening my mouth, I try to call for help, but my throat is dry and sticky. Mikhail and Ricardo are so close by, if they could only hear me. I’m thwarted by rough fingers jamming the cloth down my throat. Choking me.
I can’t scream. Can’t speak. Hot, humid air presses around my head, making it harder to think. I have to do something before I pass out. Kicking out with my heel, I come into contact with my attacker’s leg.
He grunts in pain. It’s definitely a he.
Okay, then.
Reaching back with one hand, I make a grab for his twig and berries. Hit them where it hurts, my self-defense trainer said.
With a muffled curse, my attacker slams me forward into the glass front of the vending machine. Glass rattles under the impact. Candy bars thud to the bottom of the receptacle. Someone had to have heard that.
My eyes water as the tang of metal hits my tongue. My fear spikes higher, clawing its way up my spine until it threatens to consume me. I have to get away before I’m seriously injured. Or worse.
Images of the bruises around Adrienne’s neck fill my thoughts, further fueling my panic.
Wrestling my mind away from the cliffs of abject panic, I home in on what I know. The man who attacked my sister is long gone. He can’t be the one doing this to me. Then who?
I have to focus. I can do this.
Taking breaths through my nose, I try to get a whiff of my attacker’s scent. It’s generic bar soap, so no help. I’ve got to get a look at this guy.
Kicking with all my strength, I hit my attacker’s shin again. A louder cry of pain is my reward.
Heavy hands thrust me forward, slamming me into the vending machine again. More brutal than the first time. My nose spurts blood. The fabric of the cloth bag bunches in my mouth, gagging me. Hot blood trickles down my throat. My lungs burn as I struggle to inhale.
When my attacker rasps a threat into my ear, my every muscle goes rigid.
“Stop looking into Rook’s death, or I’ll kill you.”
21
Cool air rushes around me as I’m freed from his cruel grip. Footsteps thud along the hallway, receding. Whoever was trying to hurt me is gone.
My hands tremble as I pull at the cloth over my head, but can’t get it off. Wilting, I lean against the wall for support.
Footsteps bang up the hallway toward me. He’s coming back to finish me off.
My legs give out and I slump to the floor. I thrash my hands, trying to get the cloth off my head, but I’m shaking too badly. The combination of fear and adrenaline has flatlined my control of my fingers.
The fabric is whisked off my head, and Ricardo’s is the first face I see. Behind him, Adrienne and Cal are staring at me with wide eyes. My sister’s face is ghastly pale in the low light. Mikhail looms over their shoulders, scanning me with military precision. His eyes narrow.
“What happened here?” he asks, voice demanding.
“Good God, Charlotte. Are you okay?” Gathering me into his arms, Ricardo tries to pull me into his lap.
“Don’t touch me,” I say hoarsely, pulling away from him and curling into a ball against the wall. Panic has kept its seat on the throne of my mind. “I don’t need your help.”
My heart is slamming against my ribcage, all too aware of how close I was to suffocating back there. I’ve always felt safe within the walls of the academy, but after this? I don’t know.
Adrienne crouches down beside me, holding out a hesitant hand. “Who did this to you? Misha, go find him,” she says to Mikhail over her shoulder.
The bodyguard gives a tight nod before disappearing down the corridor, moving between the shadowed doorways like a ghost. He’s broad, but stealthy. Hopefully he catches whoever did this so I can make them pay.
And I will make them pay. Daddy is important enough. I bet he could get the press to call it an assassination attempt. Which is exactly what it felt like. The press would slaughter them in the court of public opinion. They’d be ruined.
“What can we do? Let us help you,” Adrienne says, putting a feather-light hand on my shoulder.
I take a deep breath, stuffing down the urge to burst into tears. I will not let them see me cry. “I just want to go to my room. And a candy bar.”
“Got it.” Ricardo pops to a stand. In a moment, the machine whirs and he holds out a Dairy Milk and a Toblerone. “I didn’t know which one you wanted,” he says, looking sheepish, “so I got both.”
Snatching them away, I mumble a grudging thanks. The boy knows my favorite chocolate bars. Taking my hand, he hoists me off the floor.
I refuse to look at him. I’m still mad at him about the internship, but more importantly, I would never have let him see me all bloodied and weak like this if I had any choice. My resolve hardens. No one will ever see me like this again. Straightening my robe, I lock eyes with my sister. “Walk me back to my room. Please.”
Cal holds up a plain black hoodie. “This is what they put over your head. I’m giving it to the police, when they come.”
I shake my head vehemently, unable to stop the shudder that rolls through me. “No police.”
My brother and sister have never looked more alike than they do right now, their mouths twin gaping holes of astonishment.
“Why no police?” Adrienne asks. “They can catch whoever tried to hurt you.”
Ricardo’s eyes flicker toward mine, and I can see in their depths that he knows why I can’t allow the police to become involved. At least I don’t have to lie to one person in my life, even if he is a thorn in my side.
If I call the police, they might be able to catch whoever did this, but then they’d start asking questions about it. Whoever it was might spill their guts. It might come out that I’ve been looking into Professor Rook’s death. The authorities would be curious as to why a seventeen-year-old girl was interested in a hit-and-run. A simple glance at my credit card statement would unveil that I’d paid to have Cal’s car repaired. The dented bumper and hood replacement would be a dead giveaway. They’d think I killed Rook, for sure.