“That’s oddly precise.”

“That’s because she’s never done it.”

“She’s a bit unwell and needs rest.”

“Unwell how?”

“Sick, tired, or both.”

“Then tell your bloke here to let me in so I can check on her.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment.”

“Why not? Unless you did something to her!” She gasps. “I swear if you don’t let me see her, I’m going to call the police.”

“You won’t be able to do anything to me, Miss Hussaini, but if you’re stupid enough to call the police, I’ll bring your family to the ground.”

She lifts her chin. Layla is Aurora’s friend, all right. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You ought to be.” I let the window go up, slowly muting her shouts. She’s screaming about how she’ll take this to social media and spouting every threat under the sun.

The gate opens and Moses drives in. The guard holds Layla as she tries to bolt after me.

There’s loyalty in that woman. I like it. But I also meant it about crushing her if she goes against me.

I step into the house, ready to find Aurora and make her talk. It’s long overdue. Surely, she also doesn’t like to stay away from her company and her weird friend.

“Sir?”

Margot’s hesitant voice stops me at the base of the stairs. She’s standing there with a silent Tom.

“Yes?”

Her skin is pale and she swallows a few times but doesn’t say anything.

My inner alarms go off at the same time. “What’s going on, Margot? Did something happen to Aurora?”

I checked in a few hours ago to make sure she’d had her lunch, and Margot didn’t mention anything.

“What’s going on?” I say with a stern voice when neither of them speaks.

It’s Margot who finally does. “After I brought her lunch, Miss Aurora has…been…”

“What?”

“Screaming. Breaking things. The crashes could be heard from downstairs. She’s calmed down a bit now, but it was so similar to…”

Tom shakes his head at her, and she clamps her lips shut.

But I know who she was going to compare her to, even if she didn’t say the words.

So similar to Alicia.

Fuck.

I loosen my tie as I ascend the stairs, then turn the key in the lock. The scene I see in front of me is utter fucking chaos.

The coffee table is turned upside down, clothes are thrown on the ground, some torn, and the lamp is broken in pieces at the side of the bed.

I step inside and close the door, pocketing the key.

Since Aurora’s nowhere to be found, I expect her to be in the bathroom. I’m a few steps in when she darts behind me, towards the door.

I grab her by the wrist, careful not to hurt her injured palms. The bandages are already bloodied, which means she’s reopened her wounds.

Again.

Not that it should be a surprise with the amount of damage she’s caused. This fucking woman has no care whatsoever for her own safety.

She thrashes against me, her face red and her loose black hair flying in all directions.

I grab her by the throat and push her down against the mattress. My body overpowers hers as I hover above her. “Stop.”

She squirms, one of her hands hitting me across the chest, but the other remains inert by her side. Her face is pale — minus her flushed cheeks. Her lips are cracked and have lost their natural rosy colour, and the cut on the side of them is bloodied as well. Her deep blue eyes are frantic, pupils dilated — could be due to lack of sleep or her angry fit or both.

“You’re reopening your fucking wounds, Aurora. What is wrong with you?”

“You.” She’s breathing harshly — so much so that her words are muffled with her breaths. “If you don’t let me go, you’ll regret it.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t underestimate me, Jonathan. I lived on the streets for way too long. I can cause you damage.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

She lifts the hand that was limp by her side only moments ago. I thought she was only bleeding because she reopened her wound, but turns it out, she’s been squeezing a shard of glass. She points it at my neck, her breathing still chopped and uneven, but her eyes are blazing with sure determination.

This fucking woman has no thought for her safety whatsoever if she was holding a shard of glass against her already wounded palm. Or maybe an injury or two doesn’t matter to her as long as she gets to run.

She’s an expert at that.

Running the fuck away.

“What are you going to do with that, Aurora? Are you going to slice my throat?”

“I will if you don’t let me go.”

“The only way I’ll let you out is if you fucking talk, so you might as well go for it.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.” Her voice breaks.

“Try again.”

“Let me go, Jonathan, please.”

“No.”

“I’ll hurt you.”

“Do it.”

“I really will.”

“Fucking do it then.”

She pushes the shard against my throat and I see the widening of her eyes before I feel the sting of the cut.

Then my blood flows to her face.

 

 

10

 

 

Aurora

 

 

Hot liquid lands on my cheek, my nose, my mouth, and I taste metal.

Blood metal.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

My hand shakes uncontrollably and I release the shard of glass, letting it fall to the mattress. The blood mars the white sheets, soaking them red.

No, no…

Flashbacks from that day slam into me. The bloodshot eyes, the vacant look, the blood that trickled down her arms.

It’s happening again. It’s coming back.

Jonathan pushes off me, sitting on the bed, groaning. That manages to finally jerk me out of my daze.

Oh my God. I did that to Jonathan. I…I sliced his throat.

“Oh my God…” I breathe out loud as I straddle his lap and wrap a quivering hand on the wound in his neck. “I’m so sorry, so s-so sorry, I…I d-didn’t mean it, I only wanted… I’m s-so sorry…”

“I’ll survive,” he says it with enough ease that it should soothe me. It doesn’t. All I can focus on is the blood seeping through my fingers, covering them. I did that. Just like Dad.

I’m just like Dad.

Oh, God.

I’m going to throw up.

“Hey…” Jonathan’s soothing voice echoes in the air. “Look at me.”

I can’t. All of my attention is on the trail of blood that is seeping through his cut and slipping between my fingers. The blood that I brought out. What was I thinking? This is Jonathan. How could I cut him?

“Aurora.” His fingers stroke through my hair, then slowly slide to my chin, lifting it and gently guiding me to stare at him.

I’m trapped in those eyes I spent weeks and months getting lost in. Eyes I was going to turn vacant just like my dad did to those women.