Chapter Eleven: Laina

I’d been here for a while, it seemed. Watching TV could only entertain me for so long. I’d tried, practically begged my Devil to stay with me every now and then, to talk to me… to show me his face.

But he never did.

One day, after dinner, while I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing things were different—but not in the way most girls would wish if they were in my position—that the door opened once again. I hurried to sit up, stunned to see my devil in black walking in, a tray in his gloved hands.

He never came back after dinner. It was always the next morning, when he brought me breakfast, so this was a welcome surprise.

I watched, holding my breath, as my Devil walked closer to me. I hadn’t tried to attack him since that first time, partially because I’d never be able to take him on physically, but mostly because I didn’t want to.

He didn’t hurt me. Didn’t try to rape me. It was almost like he thought he was protecting me from something out there—from my dad, maybe? Either way, his actions endeared himself to me in ways they shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t, for instance, have every detail of his devil mask memorized, nor should I know the way his body moved. The broadness of his shoulders, the flatness of his stomach; I couldn’t see any skin on him, but there was no way he was old under there. He moved like a man in the prime of his life.

I swung my legs off the side of the bed, the chain on my ankle now something I hardly noticed, being so used to it after all this time. “What’s this?” I asked, already knowing I wouldn’t get an answer.

My Devil came and set the tray on my bed beside me. In the center of it sat a shiny metal dome covering whatever rested underneath it. I had no idea what those things were called. My face must’ve been confused, because he divided his time between staring at me behind that mask and at the small dome.

The TV was on in the background, playing some show that came on every Wednesday night at eight. Really, TV was the only way I was able to keep a sense of time in here.

When I made no moves to go for it, my Devil plucked the silver dome off the tray, revealing my surprise.

A piece of birthday cake.

“What…” And then it hit me, what today must’ve been. “Today’s my birthday?” My breath came out short; that meant I was eighteen, legally an adult. I wondered if that meant he’d let me go.

After seeing my dad get everything he’d been working towards these last few years… I wasn’t sure I wanted to be free. Wh at kind of life would be waiting for me out there? Not one I was used to.

My Devil nodded once.

“Thank you,” I whispered, giving him a smile. I started to reach for it, but right before my hand touched the plate on the tray, I pulled away from it, fighting with all of the emotions waging war inside me. “Did you know last year my dad forgot my birthday? He was too busy campaigning. He’s never been good with dates, but he’d never completely forgotten before. Sometimes I feel like you care more about me than he does.”

His head slowly tilted, and he went to stand before me as he listened. He stood directly before my knees, inches away, the closest he’d ever gotten to me. My Devil stunned me by lifting a hand and bringing it to my face.

Down the side of my left cheek, the touch of his gloved hand on me shouldn’t have made me catch my breath, but it did. His hand swept down along my jawline, catching my chin between his thumb and his finger, and he angled my head back so that I gazed up at him.

It was the first time he’d ever touched me—well, since kidnapping me, I mean. He had to touch me a whole lot that day.

He was the opposite of forceful. The way he touched me, how gentle his thumb and finger cradled my chin… he was everything he shouldn’t be, given the fact he’d kidnapped me, and it made me want him in ways I shouldn’t.

“Why?” I breathed out the word. “Why am I here? Why are you keeping me here?” I’d lost track of how many times I’d asked him those questions. “Why won’t you show me your face?” Was the end goal to let me go? So if he never showed me his face, I wouldn’t have anything to tell the police?

Or was he hiding it from me for a different reason? Honestly, I’d spent countless nights thinking of all of the possibilities.

My questions must’ve snapped him back to reality, because his hand dropped from my chin, and he took a fast step back, putting space between us. All he could do was shake his head at me and turn to leave.

“No,” I begged, slow to get off the bed. “Don’t go. Stay. Have some cake with me. You can sit with your back against mine. I won’t look. I promise. Please—”

Nothing I said could get him to turn around and come back to me. He headed straight for the door, and once it was open, he stopped, turning his mask back to me. All he did was lift a finger to the carved mouth of the mask, telling me to shush. And then he left, and I was alone once more, now with a piece of cake for company.

Thinking of Fang led me down a rabbit hole that day. Amongst arguing with Kieran that I was going to have Fang make me something—though I didn’t know what yet—my mind couldn’t shut off.

My Devil. The way Fang had touched me so gently had brought certain memories into the forefront of my mind. Maybe that was why I couldn’t get the sharp-toothed man out of my head. He reminded me, in a way, of him.

I didn’t tell my dad or Tessa about my meeting with Fang, nor did I tell them about the prescription I’d picked up earlier. I decided on taking the first pill the next morning; taking it early in the morning would be easier for me than taking it at night, when I might be with company.

I didn’t tell them because I knew what they’d say. They wouldn’t want me using Fang’s services… nor would they appreciate the things he’d said to me. Of course, what he’d said would be our little secret, just like the fact that I hadn’t been turned off by any of it.

Fang was strange, yes, definitely dangerous, but I was almost compelled to be lured in by him.

I couldn’t get Fang out of my head the rest of the day. Even when I lay in bed at night, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was a little creepy with those silver teeth, but at the same time, I was a fish on the line—on his line—and he’d only started to lure me in.

I couldn’t wait to see him again. He was new, exciting, and even though most of what he’d said to me should’ve put me off, I was anything but turned off. When I closed my eyes that night, for the first time in a while, I wasn’t thinking about my Devil. No, I was thinking about Fang.

Sleep took hold of me sooner or later, and I drifted off, my sleep a dreamless black one. That was, until my phone buzzed and lit up the space around my nightstand, bringing me out of whatever dreamless sleep had taken hold of me. I rolled to my side, reached for my phone, thinking it was Kelly messaging me; she didn’t keep the hours of a sane person. That much hadn’t changed while I was kidnapped.

My eyes had to blink a few times when I saw a message from a restricted number. A picture message, so I couldn’t even see what it was. What in the world…

I unhooked my phone from the charger, rolling onto my back as I clicked on it. My phone opened the message, and I lay there for a few moments, trying to piece together where I’d seen the background in the picture before.

And then it hit me.

I sat up, the sheets falling down from their position around my chest. My heart skipped a beat. That’s the alleyway to Fang’s place. It was dark; the picture was taken at night, but after brightening my phone, I was able to see the camera and the door to the building halfway down the alley.

What? Who the hell sent this?

The number was restricted, so I couldn’t see who’d sent it. I was about to delete the message when another came through—and this one had words. Just words.

Forgotten me already?

If my heart skipped a beat before, it damn near kickstarted now, like I was in the middle of running a marathon and not sitting in bed. My fingers hovered over the keyboard on the screen. I didn’t know if I should answer the message or not.

Was it him? Was it my Devil? No. It couldn’t be. If it was, why would he wait so long to talk to me? Honestly, I’d been waiting for him this entire time, and I’d started to think he’d forgotten all about me.

Once I got myself under control, I tried to message the number back, but the message failed since it was restricted. Damn it. Duh. If my brain wasn’t so groggy due to being half-asleep, I wouldn’t have even tried.

So, I sat there, staring at my phone, waiting for another message—because surely there had to be more. That couldn’t be it. There had to be more he wanted to say. A minute passed, then another. The more minutes that passed, the more downtrodden I got.

He wasn’t going to message me again.

But right then was when he did, and my phone buzzed with a new message: What do you think everyone will say when they find out you’re lying to them?

His words cut to the bone, reminiscent of what Fang had said. Fang had basically accused me of lying, too. How ironic that they’d say the same thing. I mean, what were the odds? I stared daggers at my phone screen, wishing I could message him back.

It had to be him, then. My Devil. The only other person who’d be able to know for sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was lying to everyone—at least about one thing.

Another message appeared: We both know lying is wrong. I never thought you were a liar, Laina, but maybe you lie only because you’re afraid of the truth. And what is the truth? A picture of a devil’s mask came next, a close up, so it only showed half the mask. Like some kind of twisted selfie.

My instinct was right, then. My Devil was still around. He hadn’t abandoned me. He was just watching me from afar, waiting to see what I’d do and what I’d say. How badly I wished I could write him back, tell him all of the things I’d been afraid to say before.

He was right. I was afraid of the truth. Wasn’t that a bitter pill to swallow?

The truth is , was one message. A long wait before the next, You’re mine .

Even if I could’ve responded, there wasn’t anything to say to that. How alone I’d felt, even before he’d taken me and showed me the truth about my dad—that he was nothing but a power-hungry, wannabe politician who’d do whatever he could to boost his numbers—I’d felt so alone. I’d never known my mom. It’d always been just me and my dad.

But even then… it was just me. Always just me, and that got tiring, you know? Sometimes, you wanted to rely on someone else, even if just for a short while. Sometimes you wanted nothing more than to close your eyes and relax. I had Kelly, yes, but I didn’t really have her. We weren’t that close, even if I’d consider her my best friend. It was like the world wanted me to be alone.

And then he’d appeared out of the shadows of my closet and taken me, opened my eyes to the truth. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted, more than anything, to belong to someone, to have someone who would do anything, anything to protect me. Beyond everything I’d ever wanted in my life, I wanted someone to take a single look at me and decide: You’re mine.

And it just so happened that’s exactly what my Devil did… the timing was just suspect.

He didn’t message me again after that. I didn’t think he’d actually go in and try to hurt Fang; it was a warning for me not to get close to him. As I lay down, the realization hit me: he’d been watching us today, watching me, and that meant he was closer than I’d ever thought.

My Devil hadn’t abandoned me. He’d been watching me this whole time.