about how this wasn’t “so bad”
she reminded herself where she’d come from.
Murder.
Drugs.
Torture.
Shady
shit always going down simply because her family could do it.
Isolation
and loneliness.
That
was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to her family. She looked down the
hall, but couldn’t see past the living room. Looking at the bathroom she saw a
pair of dark boots peeking out from the corner of the door. Her heart beat
faster, and she moved toward the door. The light was on, and she pushed the
door open as far as it would go, but Fury’s big body stopped her from opening
it all the way.
He
was on his back, his chest rising and falling, and the normally harsh lines of
his face seeming relaxed. The scent of alcohol filled the small room, and she
realized he was passed out cold. Walking further into the bathroom, she stared
at his face for a moment, the weight of the chain on her ankle having reality
fill her. She bent down and search his pockets. And there they were … the keys.
She held them in her palm, staring at the glint of silver that caught the
overhead light, her heart racing. Angelina looked at Fury again, at the way his
dark hair was a mess around his head, how the dark layer of scruff covered his
jaw and cheeks, making him seem so damn masculine.
She
stood and backed out of the bathroom. Once in the hallway again she bent once
more and undid the lock. The metal fell to the ground, and she started
breathing harder, faster. Her knees were starting to buckle as she walked down
the hallway, went into the kitchen, and finally stopped. She looked around. The
place was rustic, barren. The front door was right there, just a few feet from
her … unlocked. Her hands started shaking as adrenaline coursed through her
system.
Without
thinking anymore she went to the front door, opened it, and let the fresh air
wash over her. Hair covered her face as the wind whipped the strands around.
Taking a step onto the porch, Angelina was greeted with worn wood on her bare
feet. She looked down, the oversized sweats covering the tops of her feet, but
the freedom having excitement rush through her.
But
fear also filled her, had her frozen to the spot.
Here
she was, no longer chained, yet not running. All she could think about was what
waited for her on the outside. Her father would find her, if he hadn’t already
known where she was this whole time. What would he do once he had her? He’d be
pissed, that was a given, but with Marco’s death would he want to keep her
lockdown even more than he already had in the past? Would he want to make an
example of her because she’d run? That would be seen as a betrayal, and blood
or not, her father wouldn’t let that go, no matter what.
Without a doubt.
Angelina
didn’t know how long she stood there, just staring at the trees surrounding
her, but she felt free, like being out here there wasn’t anything that could
touch her, especially her father. She’d lived in a box for so long, and even
after she’d run and spent the last few months’ away from her family, she’d
never fully felt like she was free. That worry that her father would find her
was always on the back of her mind. All she’d been able to feel was that
tingling on the back of her neck, the pressure that she was being watched. But
here, now, she didn’t feel that. Angelina didn’t feel like her family would be
able to reach her.
Turning
and looking at the front door, she envisioned Fury lying in the bathroom. She
shouldn’t want anything to do with him, and she should have just run, but here
she was, turning around and walking toward the door.
Once
she was back inside she made her way back to the bathroom and stared at the
chain that was lying on the hallway floor. It symbolized something stronger
than just escaping this prison. It also meant she broke away from a life she’d
always been tied down to. Maybe it was just her own thoughts and twisted
notions that had her feeling like this,
she reminded herself where she’d come from.
Murder.
Drugs.
Torture.
Shady
shit always going down simply because her family could do it.
Isolation
and loneliness.
That
was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to her family. She looked down the
hall, but couldn’t see past the living room. Looking at the bathroom she saw a
pair of dark boots peeking out from the corner of the door. Her heart beat
faster, and she moved toward the door. The light was on, and she pushed the
door open as far as it would go, but Fury’s big body stopped her from opening
it all the way.
He
was on his back, his chest rising and falling, and the normally harsh lines of
his face seeming relaxed. The scent of alcohol filled the small room, and she
realized he was passed out cold. Walking further into the bathroom, she stared
at his face for a moment, the weight of the chain on her ankle having reality
fill her. She bent down and search his pockets. And there they were … the keys.
She held them in her palm, staring at the glint of silver that caught the
overhead light, her heart racing. Angelina looked at Fury again, at the way his
dark hair was a mess around his head, how the dark layer of scruff covered his
jaw and cheeks, making him seem so damn masculine.
She
stood and backed out of the bathroom. Once in the hallway again she bent once
more and undid the lock. The metal fell to the ground, and she started
breathing harder, faster. Her knees were starting to buckle as she walked down
the hallway, went into the kitchen, and finally stopped. She looked around. The
place was rustic, barren. The front door was right there, just a few feet from
her … unlocked. Her hands started shaking as adrenaline coursed through her
system.
Without
thinking anymore she went to the front door, opened it, and let the fresh air
wash over her. Hair covered her face as the wind whipped the strands around.
Taking a step onto the porch, Angelina was greeted with worn wood on her bare
feet. She looked down, the oversized sweats covering the tops of her feet, but
the freedom having excitement rush through her.
But
fear also filled her, had her frozen to the spot.
Here
she was, no longer chained, yet not running. All she could think about was what
waited for her on the outside. Her father would find her, if he hadn’t already
known where she was this whole time. What would he do once he had her? He’d be
pissed, that was a given, but with Marco’s death would he want to keep her
lockdown even more than he already had in the past? Would he want to make an
example of her because she’d run? That would be seen as a betrayal, and blood
or not, her father wouldn’t let that go, no matter what.
Without a doubt.
Angelina
didn’t know how long she stood there, just staring at the trees surrounding
her, but she felt free, like being out here there wasn’t anything that could
touch her, especially her father. She’d lived in a box for so long, and even
after she’d run and spent the last few months’ away from her family, she’d
never fully felt like she was free. That worry that her father would find her
was always on the back of her mind. All she’d been able to feel was that
tingling on the back of her neck, the pressure that she was being watched. But
here, now, she didn’t feel that. Angelina didn’t feel like her family would be
able to reach her.
Turning
and looking at the front door, she envisioned Fury lying in the bathroom. She
shouldn’t want anything to do with him, and she should have just run, but here
she was, turning around and walking toward the door.
Once
she was back inside she made her way back to the bathroom and stared at the
chain that was lying on the hallway floor. It symbolized something stronger
than just escaping this prison. It also meant she broke away from a life she’d
always been tied down to. Maybe it was just her own thoughts and twisted
notions that had her feeling like this,
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