Breathless (Merciless Book 3)

Every time I make even the tiniest of movements, the ache between my legs consumes my body.

I both hate it and love it. I love the reminder that Carter came for me; I hate that I’m again faced with the reality I can’t outrun.

I’ve been watching the news and listening to the guards. I know blood has already been spilled. Yesterday I got a glimpse of it, but I wasn’t sure. Today Addison’s kept the news on and I know for certain the war has begun.

I recognize the names of some of the men in my father’s army. The soldiers. Men who have gathered in my kitchen late at night. Men who have shared dinner with my family from time to time.

Men who have been kind to me.

Men who have looked after me when my father wasn’t there.

Men who have children and wives.

And the names I don’t recognize from men who live on the east side of the state… I imagine they have families too. Or did. Before this happened.

My father made me go to the funerals whenever someone died. Always. I’ve never missed any of them. He said they were family and deserved that respect. As much as I’ve hated my father and as much as I think I’m nothing but a bother to him, or maybe a bad memory of my mother, I always respected the dead and their families.

This time I won’t be able to, and for some reason that hurts me deeper than I think it should.

Two names that haven’t come up are Nikolai and Mika.

The first, a man who I’ve loved in more way than one.

And the second, a man I’ve dreamed of killing myself.

In this world, there are men who are good, and there are men who are evil. I won’t be convinced otherwise. In war, both types of men die. And both types of men populate every army.

“How are you doing this morning?” Addison’s question pulls my gaze from the coffee maker to her. I meant to turn it on and never did. I can’t concentrate on anything else but the war.

She looks like she didn’t get any sleep at all. The dark circles under her eyes are a dead giveaway. “I came in to check on you last night, but you were already asleep.”

My lungs seize thinking how grateful I am that she didn’t come in while Carter was there. I’ve never felt so torn in my life as I did last night. It’s an impossible situation.

“Yeah, I passed out.” I offer the lame excuse and it feels fake on my tongue knowing I’m hiding the truth from her. I finally hit the button to start up the machine but then have to check to make sure I added water. I did.

All the while, Addison heads to the fridge as if it’s any other kitchen, knowing Eli fully stocked it last night.

I almost tell her Carter came over purely out of guilt, but I swallow my words. She won’t understand. She clears her throat and speaks before I can confess though.

“I saw Daniel… that’s what took me so long.”

Unshed tears shimmer in her eyes and she slams the fridge door shut before tossing the butter on the counter so she has both hands free to press her palms to her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to be. Out of everyone involved, you have no reason to be,” I say and wish she could understand how empathetic I am to her. “I get it. Let it out,” I tell her while putting my hand on her shoulder and running it back and forth to try to soothe her.

“I just can’t believe he’d be okay with the way Carter treated you. That he would do nothing.”

I let out a long breath, understanding why she’s standing so strongly against Daniel, but hating that I’m a part of that reason.

“I’ve come to terms with two things,” I tell her, hoping it will help her. “One, I love Carter even if he hates me.” The first confession brings her eyes to mine. “Two, I’m not going to sit back and do nothing. I won’t ever let him do something that will hurt me or my family without fighting him.”

“How can you be with him, knowing…?” She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to.

“I don’t know how. I honestly don’t. And I don’t know if any of it really matters.” I lean my back against the counter and grip on to it from behind. “I can’t stop this war. I can’t protect everyone. I can’t stop the people I love from dying.” As I say the last part, my mother comes to mind and I try to block her out. I’m already spent with emotion and trying to balance right and wrong, love and war, that any mention of her will be my undoing and it’s not even ten o’clock in the morning.

“This life is brutal,” I whisper and then clear my throat to face Addison again. “But it’s my life. And I want to be in control of my own decisions.”

“You know we’re still locked up, right?” Judging by the hint of a smile on her lips, her words are meant to make me laugh and they do, a small breath of a laugh.

Reaching for the butter and content to let the conversation die, she adds, “Let’s eat before we think of how we’re going to escape.”

“I can hear you,” a voice says from behind us and scares the shit out of me. Eli’s in the doorway, a smirk on his lips and if he was closer I’d be tempted to smack it off his face.

“I’m sure you all can,” I answer him and look toward the ceiling. “I haven’t found the cameras yet.”

He doesn’t respond to my jabs as I watch the coffee maker sputter the last bit of my caffeine addiction into a ceramic mug. Instead, he tells me, “You have a message.”

He’s so tall, it only takes four strides for him to close the gap between us and reach me, holding out a folded piece of paper.

“Did you read it?” I ask him before taking the small piece of parchment.

His stare is hard and unforgiving as he answers, “Yes.” Pissed off from the lack of privacy, I easily toss the precious piece of paper onto the counter. I have no idea who it’s from, but I continue moving around my warden to look for sugar in the cabinets.

“Does Carter know?” I ask him when I finally find it. I close the door slowly, holding the box of sugar tighter than I should.

“Yes.”

I nod and then ask, “Is it from him?”

I would be surprised if it was, since he didn’t have much else to say last night, and Eli proves my assumption correct with a single word.

“No.”

I swallow down the sudden pang of anxiety, wondering who it’s from and what it says, but I don’t dare let on to Eli.

“You don’t have to hate me,” he says as I continue to walk around him and Addison as she fries something on the stove.

“You don’t have to hover,” I answer him immediately.

Without another word, he leaves, and I feel guilty although I know I shouldn’t.

“What are you cooking?” I ask Addison after he’s left, staring at the piece of paper without reaching for it.

“Eggs, do you want some?” she asks, peeking at me and then at the paper. I’m surprised she doesn’t ask about it; I can see the question in her eyes.

“Sure,” I answer just to be friendly. I don’t think I could eat if I tried though. I’m already sick to my stomach.

“How do you like them?” she asks before flipping her own in the pan.

“Over easy, please, and thank you,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice upbeat and waiting to open the note until I’m alone.

“Yolk?” Addison makes a face. “Eww. Really I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.” She’s only joking though. I know she is, but the thought of losing her sends a wave of nausea through me.

“Fine,” I tell her back in as playful of a voice I can manage, “I’ll eat them however you’re making them. I like eggs however they come,” I lie. I’ve only ever had eggs over easy. I don’t even eat hard-boiled eggs. I can’t justify why I lie to her or why I’m so nervous and feeling so alone. But I do and am.

“I can make them how ever.” Addison shrugs and then adds, “Over easy is the easiest way anyway. I just don’t like the taste of yolks.”

Her easygoing reply settles the nerves still racing through me, but I glance back at the note and notice when her gaze follows me there. Still, she doesn’t ask questions and I get the feeling that’s a learned habit of hers.

I watch as she cracks two eggs on the side of the pan, then takes a bite of hers from a plate on the right side of the stove.

“I can totally cook them if you want to eat,” I offer, feeling guilty. I can’t shake all these awful feelings running through me.

“I like it,” Addison tells me and then takes another bite. The pan sizzles as the tension runs through my shoulders and the note stares back at me.

“Can I tell you something else?” Addison asks me, scraping her fork on the plate rather than looking at me. When I don’t answer she peeks up at me and I’m quick to nod my head.

“I like that they’re here in a way.”

“Who?” I ask her, feeling my forehead wrinkle with confusion.

“Eli and Cason.” She doesn’t hide the guilt in her tone. “I know they’re basically keeping us hostage but seeing all those people on the TV this morning,” she pauses and visibly swallows. “Hearing the update on the death toll in this gang war?” She rolls her eyes as she repeats what the reporter called it. Looking over her shoulder at me and then reaching for another plate, she tells me, “At least I know we’re safe.”

I can only nod and accept the plate. I’ve been ‘safe’ all my life. There’s no such thing as safe, only the illusion of it. Telling Addison that won’t help her though.

My fork shuffles the eggs around on the plate while Addison watches, but she doesn’t say anything about it. I try to take a bite and then another, but it’s flavorless and it only makes the pit in my stomach feel heavier.

“Are you going to read it?” she asks me and then tilts her head toward the note.

I nod once and finally reach for it, but after I read it, I don’t tell her who it’s from. I don’t tell her what it says either.

All I know is that Eli read it and I don’t know what that means for me.

Aria,

Meet me tomorrow night. I just need to see you. I need to know you’re all right.

Meet me at the candy shoppe on Main Street. You can walk there; I’ll be there. I promise.

Tomorrow. Eight at night.

Yours,

Nikolai

“Are you all right?” she asks me as I feel the blood drain from my face.

The sound of my fork abruptly scraping against the plate drowns out my answer to her. I mutter, “I just need a second,” as I walk past her with the note clenched tight in my hand. It feels like a betrayal of Carter to see Nikolai. But I need to. I have to see him. I have to know he’s all right.

My steps are deliberate as I walk as quickly as I can toward the stairwell, intent on searching out Eli. I don’t have to look far; he’s waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

“Eli,” I speak his name quickly like I can’t get it out fast enough. The uncertainty I’m feeling makes my skin tingle as I hold up the note.

“Aria,” he says my name back easily and as if nothing’s wrong.

“You read this?” I ask him even though he already told me he did.

He only nods.

“Are you going to stop me from seeing him?” I ask him, the strength in my voice threatening to vanish at any moment.

“It depends.”

“On what?” I ask him with no patience at all.

“On what Carter tells me to do,” he answers, and I stand here helplessly in front of him.

“Are you going to kill him?” It’s the next logical thought.

He hesitates, and I plead with him, “I won’t run from you if you let me go to him. I need to see him.”

He only takes a moment to respond, “I’m waiting to hear Carter’s decision,” and I can’t contain my frustration any longer.

“You go ahead and wait. My decision is made.” I know my words mean nothing to the cadre of soldiers surrounding me. It’s a false threat, but I’m done playing these games where I’m some damsel trapped in a tower.

“Before you storm off,” Eli begins with a straight face before I can turn my back on him and do exactly as he thought I would, storm off.

He holds out a package and I stare at it cautiously rather than take it. “What is it?” I ask him.

“You don’t trust me now?” he asks with a hint of an asymmetric grin.

I don’t respond. This isn’t a game to me, it’s my life.

“It’s from Carter.” He holds it out to me and I finally accept it, reeling with emotions I can’t even begin to describe.

“What is it?” I ask him, but he only shrugs. The box isn’t particularly big or small, so I can’t even begin to guess what it contains.

“Tell him I want to see Nikolai… please.”

With a short nod, he puts his hands behind his back and takes his position as if guarding the stairwell was what he was told to do. And maybe he was. Maybe Carter thought I’d run down the stairs and out the door the moment I got a note from Nikolai.

I don’t wait to get to the bedroom to open the package. I peel back the tape as I walk, and force open the box.

Inside is a phone, simple and black, and art supplies, a drawing pad, and colored pencils.

Such little things, but I stare at them on the bed for far too long in silence, wishing I hadn’t grown up in this world.