Page 19 of Marked By His Touch
“Let’s go, Zara,” I say, my voice firm.
Zara nods and sends me a sly smile. Her gaze sweeps over Alexander, her eyes sharp and knowing. “The world is full of bad guys, Ava. You need to be ready to fight them.”
I know she’s right. I’m not going to wait for them to come for me. I’m going to be ready.
Alexander stands there, fuming, running a hand over his beard as we walk past him. I can feel his eyes burning into my back, but he doesn’t touch me. As we reach the top of the staircase, I sigh and hurry after Zara, who is already steps ahead of me.
“First lesson, your shape!” she says, her voice sharp and unfriendly.
Just what I need. I’m not looking for a friend, I’m looking for a teacher. A coach. And Zara is just right for the job.
I look around at all the faces staring at me.I wonder if this house ever sleeps?
Chapter 6
The Beauty Parlor
The engine hums,a monotonous drone that grates on my nerves. If my mind weren't already preoccupied, I'd have asked Isaac why he doesn't drive an electric car. But I push the thought away, focusing instead on the encroaching twilight. Twilight, the end of another day, but today, the darkness is welcomed.
It means I can hide.
I should have known better than to try this.But here I am, already on my way, my pulse throbbing in my temples. I can’t believe I convinced Isaac to drive me.Is this a mistake?I’m not sure, but I’m not turning back now.No way.
My heart is a franticboom, boom, in my ears as I tug at the collar of the ill-fitting blouse, feeling suffocated by the tight layers of disguise I’ve chosen with Zara’s help. She tried to talk me out of it, but after I told her I’m a self-destructive American a few times, she stopped trying and started helping me instead.
This is my plan, my way to investigate. My way of showing myself that I can handle this world.
I’ve been training with Zara for a week, sleeping in the dormitory with the girls. I haven’t seen Alexander more than the occasional nod in the hallway and angry looks across the room. The thought of him, his touch, and how he looks at me is likea ghost in my mind. My heart aches for him; all I want to do is charge towards him and wrap myself around him every time I see him, but I need to do this.
I need to become stronger. And today, I’m taking a chance. Alexander is out of the house, out of sight for once, and I somehow managed to convince Isaac to drive me into town in this ridiculous outfit.
Alexander wouldn’t have let me go, not without a dozen guards and a hundred precautions. He’d have wrapped me in bubble wrap and tucked me away in a safe house, safe from the dangers of this world.But I’m not a child.
The urge to call him, to turn the car around, is a knot in my throat. But I swallow it down.
“In and out,” Isaac says, his voice gravelly as he pulls up to the beauty shop. His hand rests on the gun at his hip.
“In and out,” I echo, my hand trembling as I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. The bright red lipstick feels foreign on my lips, and the short blonde wig is a jarring contrast to my own dark hair. This is the only way to blend in, to stay hidden. My fingers nervously tug at my wig, trying to adjust it to make it feel a little less like a mask.
The surprisingly warm city air slams into me as I leave the car. My feet, trapped in these ridiculously high heels, feel awkward and clumsy on the slick pavement.Shit, Ava, get a grip.
I force myself to move forward, my muscles tense, as I cross the street to the beauty shop.
Opening the door is an assault on my senses. I don’t know how I imagined the place, but this was not it. It’s a riot of color, a mix of reds and pinks, a place that feels like a boudoir rather than a beauty shop. The air inside smells of expensive lotions, scented candles, and a hint of something sweet andfloral. It looks like a place of comfort and indulgence, not like the gritty, wet streets of Port Haven downtown. The walls are a deep crimson, adorned with plush velvet cushions and mirrored surfaces that catch the light in an array of dazzling reflections.
It’s all a bit over-the-top, a little too flashy for my taste. But maybe that’s the point. Like a glitzy illusion borrowed from a nineties Hollywood commercial.
I see a row of plush massage chairs. Women in silk robes and slippers sit reclining in them, chatting and laughing.
I can totally see Dorthea here. It all makes sense.
A dazzling display of make-up catches my eye on a nearby table. These are high-end brands, their bottles shimmering with a promise of transformation and eternal youth.
My gaze falls on a woman in the mirror. Her face is pale and drawn, her eyes darting nervously around the room. She’s dressed in a simple black dress. She looks—out of place. It’s not the girl from the house, it’s another one. One with the same haunted look in her eyes.
The woman who left the house a week ago never returned, despite Isaac and Alexander's search.Shake yourself out of it, Ava.
The girl in the dress notices me watching her and she quickly looks away. Her eyes are wary as if she’s constantly on guard. I clench my fists, the urge to speak to her, to understand what she knows, bubbling inside me. But this isn’t the time or place.
