Sweet Collateral

“It does.”

“Where is Anna anyway? I haven’t seen her this morning.” I know he’s asking out of concern. They all guard her like she’s royalty because they know, to me, she is.

“She’s not up yet.”

He smirks. “Hungover?”

I turn towards the door. “Something like that.” Or the fact that I locked her in my room.

Anna and I are going to talk, and she’s not leaving that room until we do.

30

Anna

I wake up, and my head is pounding. My stomach threatens to rebel with every breath, and my mouth tastes like death. Groaning, I roll over in…Rafael’s bed? I’m sure I went to sleep in Lucas’ bed.

I sit up, and my stomach instantly turns over. Jumping out of bed, I rush to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. My body heaves and wretches until I finally collapse on the cool tile. I’m dying. Literally dying. Forcing myself to my feet, I strip out of my clothes—the same clothes I was wearing yesterday—and get in the shower. The falling water feels like needles on my sensitive skin, but I also feel gross, so I allow it to wash away the grime of the previous day and night.

When I’m done, I dry myself, brush my teeth and throw on a sundress. I leave my wet hair hanging down my back before I head for the door. I don’t know what time it is, but the sun is reaching high into the sky. I grab the door handle and twist it…it doesn’t move. I try again. Nothing. What the hell?

I try twice more, yanking the door as hard as I can. It’s locked. I’m locked in this room! Am I a captive again? No, Rafael wouldn’t do that. Would he? What if Nero has decided he’s not taking no for an answer? What if Rafael has no choice?

I wrench open the balcony doors which are thankfully unlocked, and rush to the railing, glancing down at the ground only one floor below. Could I jump? I might break something. I can’t think through anything rational other than the fact that I’m locked in. A prisoner. I can’t be stripped of my free will again, even if it’s for my sister. I’d rather take my chances with the desert.

I hear the sound of the lock turning, and my fingers tighten around the railing as I press myself tightly against it. The door opens, and Rafael steps into the room, his gaze landing on the bed before searching me out. When his eyes find me, his shoulders relax slightly.

“Avecita.”

He moves towards me, and I press against the balcony railing so hard I’m in danger of falling over it. He pauses in the doorway to the balcony, taking in my stance. His brows pull into a deep frown.

“What are you doing?” he asks, warily.

“What are you doing? You’re giving me to Nero, aren’t you? You said I was free!”

His frown deepens. “Nero? What?”

He steps closer and I hold my hand out. “Stop.”

“Anna, what the fuck?” Without warning, he charges me. I can barely register the movement before he locks his arms around my waist and drags me back inside, locking the patio doors behind him.

“If you don’t want me anymore, just let me go.” My voice cracks, betraying the barrage of pent up emotions from the last two days.

With a feral snarl, he storms the short distance between us, his hand slamming around my throat as he throws me down on the bed. “You are pushing my fucking buttons, and I am running out of patience.” His fingers flex against my throat, and I close my eyes as a silent tear trickles over my temple. How did we get here? How did everything become so warped? Warm breath rushes over my face before his lips press to my forehead, so contradictory to the bruising grip he has on my throat. “Listen to me, and listen well. I am never letting you go.” I open my eyes and find him staring down at me. “You are locked in because we need to talk, and you’re not leaving this room until you do.” He releases me and pushes away, leaving me there on the bed.

Slowly, I sit up. Rafael has taken a seat in the small armchair in the corner of the room. His legs are spread, his elbows resting on his knees. He looks…worn. Tired. He’s silent for long moments— eyes fixed on me.

“Last night, I was already pissed when I came up here to find you in Lucas’ bed.”

“He didn’t—”

He holds up his hand, cutting me off. “I don’t care what happened. You sleep in my bed. Always.”

I pull my knees to my chest and drag a shaky hand through my damp hair. “It’s not good for you, Rafael.” I’m not good for you.

“Don’t put it on me. This has nothing to do with me.”