Beyond His Control (His 2)

“Oh, honey …” Now the tears well up in her eyes too, and she reaches for my face. “I did what any mother would have done to save her child.”

I smile through the tears, through the pain that stabs my heart and slices it into two. And I lean in to her, so our foreheads collide softly, and our tears meld into one. Seconds feel like hours as I stay here and bask in her absolute suffering. The penalty she paid for my freedom is something no one should ever have to endure.

“I’m sorry … I tried. I tried so hard to escape them,” I say.

“I know you did, honey. Your father couldn’t stop talking about it … like it was a trophy hunt to him,” she says, her voice crackling with pain. “He’s persistent. If I’d known he’d come after you himself, I would’ve pulled him with me into the fire.”

A smile appears on her cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that for me. Not any of it.”

“But I did. And I would’ve done it again if it meant keeping you from harm,” she says, breaking my heart into tiny little pieces.

“You’re the best mother a girl could ever wish for,” I reply. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep them at bay. That I got caught again.” I touch her scarred skin which feels rubbery and out of place, almost like a mask. “It’s because of me you’re this way now.”

She grabs my hand and forces me to stop. “It was my choice, Natalie. Mine alone to make.”

I swallow. “Are you in pain?”

She closes her eyes, but her nostrils flare. “A little.” She coughs, and her whole face cringes. She’s lying to protect me.

The beeping machine beeps a little louder, and I look at it for a second. It’s definitely a machine that keeps track of her heart rate.

“Your father brought it with him from his trip. No technology allowed unless you’re a patriarch or his wife.” She winks.

Even after so much pain, there’s still an equal amount of sass in her left, and I can’t help but feel empowered by it.

And I grab her hand and squeeze. “I promise, I will make them suffer for this.”

She cocks her head and nods. “I know you will, honey. You and Noah can do this together.”

I frown. “What? I thought you hated him?”

But then she leans up, grabs my hand, and says, “He saved me.”

“What do you mean? How?” I mutter. “I don’t understand.”

The machine bleeps faster and louder, but she completely ignores it. “He ran into the burning hut and pulled me out.”

My eyes widen.

The red marks on his shoulder, and the way he brushed it off as if it was nothing … they were from the fire?

“He risked his life to save me,” she says. “And now you must do your part.”

I swallow hard. Noah saved my mother even though he had no reason to. She ruined his plans, but he still pulled her from the fire, despite the fact that I was already long gone.

Maybe he isn’t the bad guy after all.

Suddenly, someone rummages at the door, and I immediately look up and turn my head in shock.

“Quick, you have to go!” my mother whispers. “If they find you here, they’ll lock you up.”

Too late.

The door bursts open.

Two guards step inside … along with Patrick.

“Well, well … what a surprise,” he says, and he flicks his fingers.

The guards immediately restrain me.

“What is this? Get your hands off me!” I snap.

“No, we’ve been ordered by the president to keep a close watch on your behavior,” Patrick says. “Unfortunately, someone didn’t pay attention to the cameras for a second and didn’t see you leave your room.” He raises his brow at one of the elders.

“I apologize, patriarch,” the guy says. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.” Patrick focuses his attention on me. “I hope you got what you wanted.”

“Leave me alone,” I say. “She’s my mother, for God’s sake. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“She needs to rest,” he says, pointing at the machines. “Which obviously won’t work with you breathing down her neck.”

“I haven’t seen her in so long,” my mother says.

“And you won’t for the time being,” Patrick replies.

My eyes widen, but the guards immediately pull me away from her before I have the chance to hug her one last time. “No! Let me go! I need to talk to her!”

“She’ll be fine. She’s alive,” he says.

“No thanks to you!” I hiss. “How dare you butt into our conversation? We’re matriarchs!”

“And you’re not above the rules that we patriarchs make,” he says as a wicked smile spreads on his lips.

As the guards drag me closer to the door, to him, he makes them stop in their tracks, and he grabs my face with two fingers, clutching my chin harshly. “You’ll talk again soon … once you’ve all learned not to cross us.”