14. Laura

Chapter 14

Laura

I feel like a little kid again as I sit at my mother's kitchen table. She bustles around the stove and makes tea.

The house is different. She had it renovated at least twice since we grew up here. And anyway, I was rarely home back then. I was the youngest of five, and by the time I came around, Mom was basically done with the whole parenting thing. Forget about Dad getting involved. I had free rein of the oasis, and I usually spent my days exploring the other houses and getting into trouble with my brothers. I was raised by nannies, counselors, and teachers, and my parents sent me away to boarding school when I was eight. Every summer I enrolled at this fancy nature retreat with a few of my brothers, usually Davide, and it was hard to call this place my home , even when I was little.

I think I love my mother. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm even capable of that emotion. I'm ambivalent toward my father, and I'm grateful he's not around today. But my mother, while not always present, was always warm, kind, and loving, and she was there when I needed her the most.

When Mom sits across from me, I can see a lot of myself in her. We share the same eyes, same nose, same cheeks and hair. She's older, grayer, more wrinkled than I remembered; I could've sworn she was barely forty. But now she looks her age, late sixties. In good shape, but not young anymore.

"I can't remember the last time you came over," Mom says, smiling and brushing her hair back. She's always been good at making people feel comfortable, although I don't think any amount of charisma and charm could help me with this situation right now.

"It's been a while," I admit, and that's an understatement. I'm pretty sure I haven't been in this house since the attack on the oasis a couple years back, and it's right down the block from me.

"Well, I know you aren't very comfortable with small talk, so I'll skip right to asking you what I can do to help." She gives me another stress-defusing smile, and I sip my tea to give my hands something to do.

"I want a car." I blurt it out since I can't think of a better way to do this. Technically, I have my own money, and I could go out and get a vehicle anytime I wanted. But in my family, it's not that simple. Simon has to approve everything that comes into the oasis, which means he'll know about it, and he might not want to let me drive considering I haven't been behind the wheel in a while.

"Okay," Mom says, and she's doing a good job not looking surprised. "What made you want a car?"

"You know about my gallery show at Cage." She was present at the first one briefly but decided to skip the second. "Putting that on and going into public made me want to have a little bit more freedom. I think a car is a good first step."

Mom nods very slowly. I can tell she's struggling with this, but at least she's not screeching for joy, which is what Elena would do. "This feels very sudden to me," she says, sounding very guarded.

I try not to react defensively. Which is difficult, since I'm putting myself out there right now, and I hate letting myself get into situations where someone else has control over my life and my emotions. "I understand why you think that, but this has been bubbling for a while."

"It's a good thing, don't get me wrong. It's just, I worry about you, Laura. You've barely left your house for years and you stopped going to therapy. The last time we talked, you said you're over what happened, but what if you get triggered away from home? Somewhere we couldn't help you?"

I take several deep breaths and force myself to stay calm. I knew Mom was going to bring all this up. The others are afraid of me—for good reason—and they tip-toe around my emotions the best they can. But Mom's never been like that. She says what she thinks, even if it pisses me off and makes me want to smash her skull with a rock. And I have plenty of good skull-smashing rocks in my basement.

"I haven't had a bad panic attack in years," I tell her.

"You also have been hiding in your basement all that time. Sweetie, please understand, I want this for you. I just worry you're not thinking it through."

I lay my hands flat on the table to keep myself from fidgeting. "At some point, I'm going to have to take the chance," I say without meeting her gaze. I hate feeling vulnerable like this. "I'm not asking for a lot. All I want is a car."

"What if we made a deal? You can have a car if you agree to start going to therapy again?"

I grimace slightly and close my eyes. I spent years parading through various offices, meeting with an array of different kind of mental health counselors, and while some of them helped, I still hated cutting myself open again and again. "That's not an option."

"Laura, it helped. I know you don't think so?—"

"All I want is a car. Will you talk to Simon for me?"

She sighs and turns her tea mug around in slow circles. "I'll talk to him," she says after a pause. "But I want you to process what happened. What if you meet someone like him again?"

"That's not going to happen." I think of Jackal and wonder if I already have. A predator, but Jackal's a different kind of predator. He makes me feel alive in a way I haven't in a very long time, and that has to count for something.

"I just worry. That's all."

"I'm not fifteen anymore." I look up and meet my mother's gaze, even if it's massively uncomfortable. "What happened when I was a kid won't happen again."

There are tears in her eyes. We haven't done this in a very long time, but I know what she's going to say next. I push back from the table.

"I just don't want to be complicit in something bad happening to you again, that's all."

"Mom, please don't make me responsible for your feelings. What happened wasn't your fault. We've gone over this." I turn toward the door. "Thanks for the tea."

"Will you at least consider going back to Dr. DeLuca?"

"I'll think about it." Although I have no real plans to follow through, at least saying that makes Mom look less stressed out.

"I'm happy, Laura, I really am. I'm glad you want a little autonomy. It's a good thing. I just don't want you to rush, that's all."

I hesitate before leaving. "Mom, I'm twenty-eight. I've barely left my house, and forget about the oasis. I've been in prison here for over ten years, and for the first time in my life, I want to see what the world's like out there. Maybe I'll fuck up and get hurt, but that's the risk everyone takes, right?"

Mom sighs and touches my arm. "You grew up too fast."

"That's the problem. I don't feel like I grew up at all." I pat her hand and leave. I don't like the way that meeting went, but at least she'll get me the car. Simon would probably turn me down, but with Mom speaking up on my side, he'll probably give in and give me what I want.

Maybe I should feel bad that I'm not telling them why. But if they knew about Jackal, there's no way in hell they'd let me anywhere near the outside world. And I can't really blame them.

This is objectively insane.

I've spent hours thinking about Jackal's identity and his motives. I've gone through a dozen different scenarios, some bad, some good. He could be a spy for another family and he's just trying to use me to hurt my brothers. Or he could be a rich art patron that sees me as the next hot thing. Or a man with good taste and a dark streak like mine.

Whoever he is, and whatever he is, I don't care. That's the game, isn't it? And the game is all I want. It feels good, being close to Jackal, taking risks and pushing my boundaries, and I feel safe doing it for some bizarre reason. Maybe it's the mask, or maybe it's Jackal himself, but I don't think he wants to hurt me.

As I head back to my place, my phone buzzes. I pull it from my back pocket and frown at the screen. My heart skips a beat and I try not to laugh.

Jackal: When am I seeing you again, little demon?

Laura: I don't recall adding you to my phone.

Jackal: You're mine now, remember? That includes all your electronic devices.

Laura: That's extremely invasive.

Jackal: And yet you like it. When do I get to see you next?

Laura: Five days. I'll have a car by then.

Jackal: Perfect. I can wait until then. I'm already planning our next game.

Jackal: I promise, you'll like it.

Jackal: Now, go back to your house. I have your security cameras turned on, and I want to see you.

Laura: You're in my security system too?

Jackal: Don't make me say it again. You're all mine now.

Yes, it's objectively crazy, but I'm smiling like an idiot when I go into my house knowing that Jackal can tap into my cameras and sensors. He's probably looking at me right now—and a sudden, stupid idea washes over me.

There's a camera in the living room. It's usually turned off, except for when I power on the system. I head over toward it, and I swear the lens is staring at me. I smile, brush my hair back, and slowly take off my top.

My phone buzzes.

Jackal: What are you doing?

Laura: Nothing. It's warm in here.

I reach back and unhook my bra. I hold it in place, heart racing with excitement, the thrill of his unseen gaze sending shivers down my spine.

Jackal: Are you trying to tease me right now?

Jackal: If you are, our next game is going to be a punishment.

Laura: Tease? Never.

I let the bra fall away before covering my breasts with one arm. I smile at the camera and turn away, feeling flushed and happy. I feel him watching as I walk upstairs and into my room, and my eyes jump to where I have my laptop sitting open on my bed. The little green camera indicator light is glowing.

Laura: You like watching me, don't you?

Jackal: Because you like being watched.

Laura: I'm going into the shower now. I'm going to think about you while I get myself off nice and loudly. Feel free to listen if you like.

I head into the bathroom and kick the door shut. The shower water is nice and warm as I take off the rest of my clothes and step under the spray, closing my eyes and thinking about his hands on my body.

Jackal: You tease.

Jackal: My god. You get me so fucking hard.

Jackal: Those sexy whimpers.

Jackal: You're touching yourself for me right now, you dirty girl.

Jackal: I can hear, you little demon. I hear you moaning my name, you filthy fucking girl. I'm going to shove my fingers in your mouth, and I'll make sure they're dripping wet with your pussy first.

Jackal: Five days, baby. Five more days.