lie,” I said.
“What?”
“I’ll lie. I’ll refuse to turn over my phone, I’ll say you’re making it
all up.”
His eyes widened in outrage. “Charlotte. This is not up for discussion.”
“I’m not trying to discuss it,” I said, shrugging
my shoulders. “Go ahead. Do what you want. They’re going to think you’re making it
up. They might even charge you
with obstruction of justice or interfering with an investigation.” It was a stupid threat. They wouldn’t charge him with obstruction
or interference. But they would
think he was crazy. They would use
whatever he said against him. The
last thing he should be doing right now was talking to the police, and he knew
it.
He hung up the phone.
He looked at me, our eyes meeting across
the living room.
It was a stalemate.
He wanted to protect me.
And I wanted to be
protected by him.
But I also refused to lose him.
This might be his one chance at
salvation, and I would do anything to bring it to fruition.
“Noah…” I started, but he gave me a
slight shake of his head, warning me not to speak. So I stayed quiet while he mulled the situation over in his
head.
He crossed the room to me, until our
chests were almost touching. He
put his hands on my shoulders and slid his hands down my arms before
intertwining his fingers with mine. “I cannot let you do this.”
“You’re not l etting me do anything.”
“I explained the rules, Charlotte. I will have complete control of your
body and your well-being . You are not to make a move without my permission.” His tone was measured, even, but he was
a man that had been pushed to the brink, and I could feel his need for control
still simmering below the surface. He needed my surrender, and if he didn’t get it… well, then there would
be consequences. I was starting to
realize that his was how he dealt with anything – fear, sadness, lust , anxiety – that left him unsettled.
“You said we could try it my way,” I said
gently. “You said we could do
this.” I squeezed his hands in
mine and he closed his eyes. I saw
the pain pass over his face, the agony that tortured him when he thought of me
being in danger.
“That was before I knew some mad man
wanted to kill you.” He took one
of his hands from mine and pushed my hair back from my face, his thumb skating
over my temple.
“Do you understand,” I said, “how much it
would kill me to lose you? What
will happen to me if you go to jail, Noah? What will I… how will I…” I felt myself getting choked up,
and I struggled to keep myself calm.
“I’m not going to jail.”
“You keep saying that. But you don’t know, Noah. No one knows. We have to do this on our own.”
His eyes searched mine, exploring,
probing for any weakness, any sign that I would change my mind. But I kept my fear for my own safety
tamped down, struggling not to show him how scared I was. It was torturous, trying to have that
kind of self-control over my emotions, and I wondered if this was how his
damaged mind felt all the time.
It made me feel like I finally understood
a small part of him.
I didn’t want to think about how hard I’d
had to work for just that tiny little piece.
So instead I leaned into him.
“You need to take me to Force tonight,” I
said softly. He recoiled, but I
kept talking before he could protest. “Please, Noah. It’s the only way. He’s after me no matter what. At least this way, we have a chance of
stopping him.”
His hands tightened on mine, his fingers
gripping me so hard it hurt. But I
didn’t pull away. I stayed
strong.
“And you won’t be able to protect me if
you’re locked up.”
He shook his head, but it wasn’t that he
was saying no – it was more in wonder, like he couldn’t believe the
situation we were in, couldn’t believe the choices he’d been presented
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