Page 83 of No Control
The temptation to break down beckons me, to let the gates open and all the darkness take over my soul, so I don’t feel what I’m feeling now.
“Henry, please,” she clings to my arm.
I shake my head, push her away, and head inside.
thirty-four
Lydia
I hear him coming before he ever unlocks the door, and as the knob turns, I brace, wiping the sweat of my palms onto my jeans. It’s not even been twenty-four hours since he left, and it’s been a whirlwind. Especially when Cher offered me the truth. Then locked me back in here.
Her loyalty lies with her brother—and I can’t blame her for that.
The door swings open, and in steps Henry, his eyes glassed over. He looks exhausted, wearing the same clothes he left in.
“Get packed,” he says throatily.
Honestly, I’m too terrified to fight with him. I do exactly as I’m told, packing my bags in a hurry. He stands at the opening of the room, not even bothering to pack his own things—and that only serves to scare me further.
Maybe he’s going to kill me.
I turn to him. “Your sister—”
“No,” he cuts me off in a sharp tone. “Just fucking pack.” My hands tremble as I follow his instruction, shoving everything messily into the bags.
A few tense moments later, I meet him at the door with my hands full. “Where’s Duke?”
“Come on.” He grabs the bags from my arms and motions for me to go in front of him. “Go out the front door.”
My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I put one foot in front of the other, making my way to the main entry way. I step out onto the porch, spotting Duke playing fetch with Cher. He wags his tail and comes running up to me.
I want to fall apart and hug him, but I don’t.
“What are you doing?” Cher demands, chasing after Henry. “Where are you taking her?”
He ignores his sister, pulling the leash out of his pocket and snapping it onto Duke’s collar. He leads him to the jeep and puts him in the backseat. “Get in the car,” Henry tells me, his voice devoid of any emotion still.
“You don’t—”
“Stop,” he cuts Cher off, giving her a look I don’t understand.
He opens the passenger door, and while terrified, I don’t see any other option. I climb into the car and buckle my seat belt. Henry meets my gaze for a split second, but I can’t read the way his eyes are clouded.
“Where are you taking me?” I whisper.
He slams the door, and I’m left to sit there, mulling over what his silence means. He said he would never hurt me out of anger, but does numbness count? I swallow hard as he climbs into the front seat and starts the engine. Henry backs out of the driveway, leaving Cher to watch us with wide eyes.
And the fact that she appears worried, worries me.
“Henry, please.” My voice breaks as he pulls onto the highway.
He shakes his head, the same way he did when he shut me out—the night I found out about his true career.
“You don’t have to do this,” I reason, reaching for him.
His jaw tenses as my hand connects with his forearm. “I do.”
“You don’t,” I cry, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Cher told me about what happened, and I under—”
