Page 41 of Fatal Fantasy

“Well, does he believe it?” Carter asks, her eyes widened and her body tense, but Ty wraps an arm over her, pulling her into his chest without saying a word.

He can read her mind, and body language, sometimes not even needing to look in her direction, and I’m grateful that he’s the glue holding her together.

“He doesn’t believe it. Carter, it’s for you,” he reads, handing the phone off to her, but she shuts her eyes, not looking at the screen.

“Just tell me, Tyson. He knows where we are, doesn’t he? He’s coming after me,” she whispers, her voice breaking with each word, and I hold back my anger, not wanting to scare her while she’s vulnerable.

I hate how small this man makes her feel, the light draining from her eyes the second he’s mentioned, and the ways in which her body reacts at the thought of being captured by him.

“No, not exactly. He said to cut the bullshit and he expects you home for the wedding or there will be consequences,” Tyson explains, and Carter exhales a deep breath, like the news isn’t as bad as she expected, but I still feel uneasy.

The trail I left was designed to keep him looking in the wrong places, but without that distraction, he could be on our heels sooner than expected.

“There’s no use sitting around and wondering what any of that means, so let’s hit the road. We’re still eight hours away from him, Principessina, you’re safe with us,” I tell her, resting my hand on her thigh as she nods, accepting my words at face value, and sprawling out until her head lands in Tyson’s lap.

With nothing to do but stare at the road, I let my mind wander, thinking of the life we’re leaving behind, and the new one we’re barreling toward.

The name Masseria won’t carry any weight where we’re going, and for the first time in my life, nobody will know where I came from.

My father was a ruthless man, and in turn, he trained me to be exactly like him, but now that he’s gone, I’ve never felt more free.

If I don’t pick up a weapon, torture a man for information, or find myself in another near death experience, I’ll be content.

It’ll be an adjustment, but a welcome change of pace as all three of us have been under someone else’s thumb since we were born, and this is our first chance at a normal life.

I never thought that one day I’d want to run away and start over, or that I’d be anything other than compliant to my father’s demands, but one girl was able to flip my entire world on its head, and I’ve been at her mercy every single second since our eyes met across a crowded room.

It sounds like something you’d see in a cheesy romance book, with much darker details in our story, but if you were to ask me how Carter changed my life, that’s exactly how I’d describe it.

In the darkness, I can now see a haze, or even light, and that’s because of the effect she’s had on me, her ability to find a silver lining in every scenario acting as a welcome addition to the ways in which I view the world.

I never thought it was possible that one person could alter the trajectory of my life, or change the way I think, but Carter isn’t just any average human, and I will always believe that she was created solely to be my partner in death.

Every mess I’ve made, horrendous act of violence I’ve committed, or terrible thought I’ve had, she’s done worse, and the base of our connection stems from the fucked up thoughts we share.

“Jasper, can I sit with you?” Carter breaks through my reflection, and I watch as she untangles herself from Tyson’s grasp, our gaze locking through the rearview mirror.

“You know I’d never say no to getting you all to myself. Come here, my little insomniac.” I tap the seat, gently riding the brakes as she climbs over the middle console, her slender frame sliding into the passenger chair with ease.

“I’m scared, Jasper. I’m not sure if we had enough time to get away,” she says, rubbing her wrists while staring out the window, the darkness of the road only illuminated by the headlights.

“Will you do me a favor?” I ask, holding my hand over hers, and she raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to deliver my request. “Roll up your sleeves.”

“No.” She shakes her head, immediately pushing back, but I grip her wrists tighter, hoping she trusts me enough to hear me out.

“It’s just you and me in this dark car, nobody can see us. Let’s just try it for five minutes, and if you start to feel uncomfortable, you can roll them back down?” I propose, and she takes a few beats to think it through, finally pushing the shirt to her elbows.

“Okay, now what?” She breathes, immediately rubbing the raw skin on her wrists, but I keep my eyes forward, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“We talk it through. How are you feeling?”

“Exposed. Vulnerable. When the air hits my scars it reminds me of how hard I fought against the restraints, and I can almost smell the blood that puddled on the concrete,” she confesses, her voice small and full of fear, but I forge on, digging further into her mind.

“It’s just you and me, Principessina. You’re not in that place anymore, and those scars may be a reminder of what you endured, but they’re also proof that you fucking survived,” I offer, hoping that pouring a little positivity back into her will assist in how she views herself, and those scars.

“I don’t feel like a survivor, though. I feel like a prisoner who escaped, and knows that they’ll eventually be dragged back by the calvary,” she says somberly, and I try the one thing that may be able to bring her an ounce of peace.

“We already went over the plans and I promise you, I won’t hesitate. I know what you lived through, and I’d rather end your life than allow it to happen again.” I take her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together, which only slightly eases the tension in her bones.