He’ll pay.
My God, I’ll make him pay.
Somewhere deep inside, a furnace cranked hot. My past fears—doing their best to drag me into the darkness from which I’d crawled—morphed into something drastic and fierce.
Consequences no longer mattered.
Terror at fighting back and earning retribution no longer factored.
If I died while refusing to accept this new reality, then so be it.
I was no longer afraid.
Of death.
Of pain.
Of monsters.
All I feared was Elder and if he’d died never knowing my fate.
I’m sorry if I get myself killed while trying to escape, Elder, but if you’re dead too…then I guess, I’ll see you soon.
The angry heat in my belly climbed up my spine, threatening rage-filled tears.
I didn’t let them fall.
I couldn’t dwell on Elder’s aliveness or death…not yet.
With my arms locked around my waist, I came to a reluctant stop in front of the large windows. I glowered at the view, despising the quaint garden lovingly manicured with hedges and fruit trees. Birds flittered left and right, uncaring that this place was home to a beast who’d broken apart true love.
The crinkle of my ballgown as I hugged myself broke my heart.
The silky satin embellished with its crimson and navy battling-bruising colours hadn’t been stripped from me even as I’d lain unconscious. The bodice remained torn and held together thanks to Elder’s hastily applied cravat.
Beneath the heavy finery, I was sticky with old sweat and sex, and my bare feet were cold. I wouldn’t deny that while ransacking the bathroom, I’d eyed up the shower in longing.
But what was the point in washing when I had nothing to put on afterward? I would never wear the simple clothing hanging in multiple sizes in the wardrobe. I wouldn’t accept any form of gifts from this kidnapper.
Alrik had denied me clothes, yet whoever this new asshole was offered me dresses as if I were some kind of Barbie doll.
Not going to happen.
I would remain dirty. I would hope to God I stunk to high heaven if he ever thought of touching me. I would embrace my sex-tangled hair and smudged make-up and residue of Elder’s pleasure on my inner thighs because I didn’t belong to this new bastard.
I belonged to myself.
I belonged to Elder.
But his name isn’t Elder…
The thought came from nowhere, plucked from the mayhem of what’d happened that night. My fingernails dug into my bodice.
Miki.
The Chinmoku had called him Miki.
Elder had been upfront about having another name, just as I did. In fact, the similarities between us were mind boggling when I took a step back and compared notes: we had lost our fathers. We had a mother who wasn’t perfect. We lived a life less ordinary than others.
And the most terrifying similarity of all? In some laughable, strange twist of fate?
I was named Minnie Mouse after my dad’s watch present, and Elder…is called Miki.
I shook my head in disbelief.
Mickey and Minnie.
Could there be any more outlandish hints that fate had been the driving force bringing us together? That our meeting wasn’t just opportune or spontaneous? Life had pushed us together for a purpose. For a reason.
I’d written to him for years as No One. And even before he was No One, we shared the same pairing of names, forever binding us to a beloved Disney couple.
And despite all that written-in-the-stars kind of thing, we’ve been torn apart!
I laughed out loud, looking at the ceiling. Exasperated, frustrated, mad, sad, confused.
I was every spectrum of emotion but finally one was missing.
Fear.
Every trace had vanished.
Now, I was angry.
So, so angry.
I pitied whoever came to touch me because they’d be leaving with no fingers.
The click of a lock whipped my head around just as the door opened and a woman in a cute black and white maid’s uniform appeared.
Her eyes shot to the dishevelled bed, searching. When she didn’t find me in the torn coverlets, her gaze quickly tracked across the shoved aside furniture and skew-whiff rugs to where I stood in my cascading bruised gown, looking just as rumpled as the rest of the room.
She swallowed, flicking a small smile while questions decorated her pretty face. Round nose, wide eyes, neat and tidy brown hair. She carried a small tray with a plate laden with a thick sandwich and crisps. “Ah, you’re awake.”
Two scenarios I could choose.
One, I could stay where I was and allow her to call the shots. I could play meek and lull her into thinking I wouldn’t fight back. I could be the Pimlico Alrik had created.
Or two.
And I like this one much better.
I could attack now.
I could show her that they’d stolen the wrong girl. That I’d lived this life, and I absolutely refused to live it again. I didn’t care women were involved in this instance. I didn’t care her smile was kind and encouraging. I didn’t care that the vibe of this house was welcoming instead of torturous.