Chapter 13

Ariana

13

I'd been thinking about it for a while, being shared by these strangely entrancing men. My guilty, dirty little thoughts. Why couldn't I bring myself to admit it? Why did I have to be so abrasive and so aggressive in my response? They came to me willingly, determined to make that crazy fantasy come true. So why did I react the way I did?

Maybe it's for the best.

I suppose some things are simply not meant for me to experience. I never imagined I'd be kidnapped, yet here I am. And I certainly never imagined I'd end up in bed with not one but two of them while also yearning for the third.

Getting it on with all three of them sounds incredibly appealing. It also sounds scandalous, decadent, and wrong.

But it doesn't feel wrong.

Every fiber in my body was calling out to them, burning with desire, yearning for that kind of intimacy. The four of us unraveling through the night while the rest of the world slept. But I couldn't bring myself to say yes. I couldn't. Yet I'm not proud of my reaction, either.

I guess that whole scenario is out the window now.

"I can't stay here a second longer," I tell myself as I wipe my tears and wash my face with cold water. It's the truth, though. The shame is too much to bear. I pushed them away, and I'm pretty sure that's the end of it.

I have become complacent as a captive. I stopped fighting for my freedom. Maybe that's why I reacted the way I did. They didn't demand anything; I must be fair in my judgment. They didn't tell me anything I didn't want to hear, didn't offer me anything I hadn't already fantasized about. God, I can't stay here. This needs to end, and I cannot let myself get dragged in any deeper.

My father must be going out of his mind. For all his faults, I know he loves me. I also know he's trying to keep his political career intact. Whatever bone the Steel Knights have to pick with him, it's theirs, not mine. I shouldn't be involved in it in any way. The more I sit here, the more determined I am to leave.

I take my faithful screw out of my pocket and get to work on the window again. I've actually gotten somewhere with my tedious work—the outer screw on the frame is finally beginning to budge. I'm getting dangerously close to being able to unscrew it with my bare hands.

"Holy shit," I mumble when it finally comes off. "One down, three to go."

A few hours pass in eerie silence. The clubhouse is closed, and everyone has gone to sleep. The customers have long since gone home, leaving the parking lot in heavy darkness and tomblike silence.

The wall clock tells me it's almost two in the morning. By the third screw, my confidence grows.

My heart jumps with excitement, my stomach tight with anticipation as I'm left with a single screw to take out.

I scrape off as much of the rust along the metal frame's edges as I can, then give it a push. I damn near squeal when the whole thing comes loose, and I carefully nudge it forward even more until it pulls the remaining screw out with it.

Just like that, my window is clear.

Looking down, I breathe a sigh of relief. There's nobody out there, not even one of the usual midnight-smoking prospects who live in the rooms down the hall from mine. I set the frame aside on the outer ledge of the clubhouse and inhale deeply.

This is it.

I can do this.

I can climb down and find my way back to freedom.

But what will I do with it? Will I tell my father that the Steel Knights kidnapped me and held me captive? Or should I just insist that I never saw my abductors? Oh, God, my mind is going in every wrong direction possible.

Why the hell am I still standing here?

"Screw this." I climb out the window.

Slowly and carefully, I step along the narrow ledge and make my way to one of the decorative lattices by the clubhouse's front terrace.

Once I'm on the ground, I realize that my knees are shaking.

I did it. I got out.

Why am I so hesitant to leave, then? Night after night, I've sat in that room and cried myself to sleep, wondering what would happen to me. I fear for my life and my future. I'm angry at my father and the whole world for having allowed something like this to happen in the first place. Yet I'm standing in the parking lot, having second thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me?

My resolve firming in my mind, I run. I run out of the parking lot and onto the open road, my heart beating faster than my feet can move across the gravel. I run as if my life depended on it because it kind of does, just not in the way one might think.

I need a clear head.

I run into the night, chasing my freedom until I can grasp it firmly with both hands.

Only then will I be able to make a sound decision about what I will tell my father?