Beyond His Control (His 2)

I wouldn’t put it past Marsha to tell Natalie what she did … And for Natalie to use the information to her advantage. It’s exactly the kind of thing I’d expect a woman with her history and her experiences to do when faced with a situation like this.

And when I walk past Marsha’s room, I pause and rub my chin as she fumbles around with something underneath her bed. When she gets up and turns around, she’s frozen to the ground, her eyes fixated on me.

I raise a brow.

Then I walk away.

Nothing to see here.

She follows me out the room and across the hallway. When I glance over my shoulder, she’s carrying a glass of water and tries to catch up with me, but I won’t let her.

I’m not interested in what she has to offer.

I know she’s going to try, but I won’t take the bait.

I hate my father more than anyone else here, but killing him with poison? That’s a woman’s choice of weapons, not mine.

“Noah!” she hisses.

“No,” I reply. “Not interested.”

She catches up to me and taps me on the shoulder. “You have to do it.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” I reply.

“Are you insane?” she whispers.

“No, I’m waiting,” I say.

“For what? Why would you let me do this if you didn’t want them—”

I stop and turn, holding a finger over my lips. “Don’t speak about this again.”

“But you know this has to happen,” she says. “I already started. It’s too late to turn back now.”

“I don’t have to involve myself in this,” I say, raising a brow. “All of this was your idea.” I point at the bottle and then turn around and walk off.

But she refuses to stop talking to me. “If I get caught, you know I’ll take you down with me, right?”

I stop and glance at her over my shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Patrick steps out of his room not too far ahead and cocks his head when he spots us. “What are you two arguing about?”

Marsha looks mortified.

“Nothing,” I say. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for breakfast.”

I continue walking toward the staircase while Marsha stays behind, still flabbergasted by our talk.

“What the …” Patrick yells from another room way back. “Fuck. Someone get the doctor! NOW!”

I pause at the top of the stairs as Patrick comes rushing out of the room. “Noah! Get the doctor!”

I nod as he runs back inside … into the president’s room.

Marsha inches closer to the door, her feet moving ever so slowly, almost as if she’s too afraid to go look.

Suddenly, something crashes into the ground.

The glass she was holding has dropped to the floor.

The president himself barges out of the room.

My jaw drops, but I quickly close it again before he notices.

“Noah! Are you deaf? Get the doctor,” he growls at me.

“Yes, sir. What happened?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

“The girl passed out in my bed, and she won’t wake up,” he growls. “Just get the doctor. I don’t want no woman dying in my bed.”

“Of course.” I nod. “Right away.”

But as he rushes back inside, I quickly run back up through the hallways again and grab Marsha’s arm. “Come.”

“But …” she mutters.

“Now,” I growl.

She’s in complete shock, staring at her husband whom she presumed was dead.

I drag her along with me through the hallway and down the stairs.

“But I have to—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” I interject. “You’ve done enough.”

“I gave it to him!”

“Yeah, well, looks like he gave the drink to one of the girls instead,” I reply.

“Oh my God …” she whispers, tears filling her eyes. “He’s still alive. I thought he would be dead.”

I firmly plant her against the wall. “Shh!” I place a hand over her mouth. “Do you want them to know? Do you want to die?”

She shakes her head.

“Then get yourself together,” I rasp, taking my hand off her mouth. “You failed. Learn from your mistakes.”

“But I tried … I swear, I gave it to him. I just couldn’t watch him drink it,” she says, choking on her words. “I only had this one chance after the ceremony. He won’t let me give him anything any other time. I’ve messed up.” She smacks her forehead.

“Killing people is hard,” I say, taking in a big breath.

“How would you know?” she retorts.

I roll my eyes and then look around to see if anyone could listen to our conversation before I continue. “That’s not the point. The point is … be prepared. Do better. Don’t get caught.”

She nods while her eyes are down at her feet. “I … I killed another girl, didn’t I?”

I rub my lips together and look away for a second. “Well, that’s a risk you need to be willing to take.”

She averts her eyes too now. “They’ll know it was me.”

“They won’t. No one here has the capacity or the interest in testing for hemlock,” I say, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Just stay low, keep quiet, and don’t mention it. If he talks to you about it, pretend you’re shocked. Nothing else.”