Page 87 of Bloodstained Wings

At least in my previous life, I wasn’t kept in a gilded cage.

Sam sighs. “I’m sorry I said that. That was out of line. I know that Carter loves you. I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all.”

I clear my throat. “I know. Look, things with Carter and I haven’t always been good, but it’s different now.”

Because we understand each other and have walked through fire for each other.

There is very little Carter wouldn’t do for me.

And I won’t ever stop defending him or trying to see the best in him.

We’re a perfect match in that way.

Sam’s hand darts out, and it settles on my shoulders. “Why don’t we sit down and watch something in the living room? I think they’re going to be a while.”

I look from her hand to her face, trying to gauge her sincerity. “Sure.”

Slowly, Sam withdraws her hand and offers Anita another uncertain smile. Then she leads the way to the living room, taking up her previous spot on the brown leather couch. I sit down next to her, leaving a wide berth of space between us. When I tuck my legs underneath me, Sam pats the couch for the remote and fishes it out from between the cushions. The TV above the fireplace mantlepiece blares to life, and she hastily presses down on the volume button.

“Sorry, I’m still learning how things work around here,” Sam mutters, mostly to herself. With a grunt, she presses another button, and it launches a streaming app. “There we go. What do you feel like watching?”

I twist to face Sam and shrug. “Whatever you want.”

Something glistens on her finger, and my hand darts down, spotting the ring on her index finger that catches the light and gives off an array of colors. Sam shifts and leans forward, and it’s only then that I realize why she looks different. When I met her, Sam was struggling to make ends meet like me, and everything from the way she dressed to the way she looked reflected that.

Now, she looks every inch the part of Tristan’s girlfriend with her designer clothes, manicured nails, and expensive-looking jewelry. With a frown, I turn away from her and fix my gaze on the TV, trying to understand the story unfolding before me. Unfortunately, the harder I try to keep my attention focused on the present, the more my mind wanders.

Suddenly, I wonder how different my life would’ve been if I’d rejected Carter’s advances.

Would I be happier?

Safer?

I know that I’ve never felt more loved, and it’s nice not to have the crushing weight of hospital bills on my shoulders, but I’m also painfully aware of what I’ve had to give up in order to get here.

And sometimes, it leaves me with a bad taste in the back of my mouth.

Halfway through the movie, unable to bear the viciousness of the voice in my head, I get up and wander over to the kitchen. After pouring myself a generous amount of iced tea, I eye Sam over the rim, and she looks happy and in her element. I finish the rest of my drink and rinse my glass before setting it on the counter to dry. A short while later, the door to the dining room bursts open, and Carter steps out, a few men following in his wake.

He doesn’t look at me as he yanks the front door open and steps out.

A few of the Blackthorne men stay behind, including Tristan. I run to the window, push the curtain aside, and study Carter, an intimidating figure with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his button-down shirt tucked into a pair of trousers. He spins around to face his men, and our eyes collide.

For a while, he holds my gaze, but I see nothing of the man I love.

All too soon, he wheels around and gets into the back of Ernesto’s SUV. When it peels away from the asphalt, I let the curtain slide back into place and take a step back. I keep walking backward until my back hits the wall. My pulse is a low thrumming in my veins, and I feel the restlessness rise within me.

Like I’m some kind of caged animal desperate to gnaw off her own leg.

Without pausing to give it any more thought, I turn around, and after making sure no one is looking at me, I take the stairs to the basement two at a time. Once I reach the bottom, I flick the lights on. There are a few cobwebs in the corner and a damp smell that makes my stomach roll, but otherwise, the place is empty… abandoned. I shove my hands into my pockets and plunge further into the basement until I reach the back door I discovered months ago when I was left to my own devices.

A hand touches my back, and I scream and throw my head backward.

Sam’s muffled grunt brings me back to the present with a jolt, and my heart is racing unsteadily when I wheel around to face her. “What are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.”

“I saw you sneak down here.” Sam touches the bridge of her nose and winces. “I think you might have bruised my nose, but at least it’s not broken.”

I grimace. “I’m sorry. With everything that’s been happening lately… you startled me.”