Itâs breathtaking.
The long flowing wedding dress washes down my body like a dream as the seamstress makes the last of her minor alterations. Yesterday, I chose it out of all the rest because it was the only one gorgeous enough to make me forget, even if only for a second, about what it was for.
Marrying my captor. Aiden Kilpatrick. The monster.
Now, as itâs made to be mine and mine only, I canât help but feel the heaviness of the future. Just like the ring Aiden gave me, this gown is far too beautiful to be used for such an ugly purpose.
On the seamstressâs orders, Tara pulls the back strings and my lungs empty completely.
âDoing okay?â Tara asks.
âYes,â I choke.
Itâs hard to tell whatâs making me more teary eyed. The beauty of the dress, the reality of what itâs for, or just how fucking tight it is.
âWell, itâs worth it. You look absolutely stunning.â
âThank you,â I whisper to my new friend. Well, âfriendâ. If you can call her that. Yesterday, Tara and I had lunch and dinner in the same garden where Aiden made me cry. But the only tears that fell down my cheeks during our meals were from laughter. Tara is a riot and the fact that I was suddenly allowed to move through the mansion had me in a state of shocked happiness. It probably made me an easy audience for some of her jokes.
But every time silence fell over our conversations, I was quickly reminded that sheâs not a true friend. Tara is helping Aiden keep me here. Sheâs just doing it in a much more gentle manner. A true friend would help me escape.
âAnd, weâre done!â the seamstress announces. Tara lets go of her grip on my dress, but I can still hardly breathe any better.
âLetâs get you out of this thing and into something more comfortable. Lunch is on me,â Tara jokes.
It almost takes longer to get out of the dress than it did to get into it, but when Iâm finally free, Tara tosses me my old pair of sweats. Iâve been wearing them for pretty much every waking hour since they got here. At night, I slip into my old sleeping gown.
âWill we eat in the garden again today?â I ask, putting them on.
âWe could do that again. Or I could have Anthony make us smoothies and we could walk through the forest. Itâs a hot one today, but in the shade of the trees itâs absolutely delightful.â
Anthony is Aidenâs head chef. He served us personally yesterday. âI like the sound of that.â Venturing outside of these walls has been my dream since I was first dragged behind them. Of course, Tara isnât exactly offering to lead me to freedom, but some fresh scenery is definitely alluring.
So, without delay, we head to the kitchen. Then, smoothies in hand, we journey outside.
Itâs sort of surreal, stepping out of Aidenâs front door. Of course, there are still guards standing watch, but when the sunlight hits my face, I almost feel good.
That is, before I see the forest.
There are no gates or fences at Aidenâs residence. Instead, the long lawn that stretches out from the front door is bordered by a thick dark wall of impenetrable-looking forest. It effectively reminds me of just how trapped I am. Even if I managed to escape these walls, Iâd still get swallowed up by that jungle in no time flat.
âWeâre going in there?â I ask Tara, unsure if I really want to. Then I remember that she grew up in these woods. Alone.
It gives me some courage.
âItâs not as bad as it looks,â she laughs. âThe shade will be nice. Look, youâre sweating already. Are you sure you donât want to change into something a little breezier?â
The thought crosses my mind. It would be nice to wear one of my old summer dresses again, but the thought of Aiden catching me frolicking around in something like that makes me think better of it. That can only go two ways, and neither are pleasant. Either he gets jealous that the men here get to see some of my skin, or he gets horny. Or both. Either way, Iâm looking to be dragged back inside and chained to my bed again.
I donât want that. These little tastes of freedom are too intoxicating to give up. Iâll be a good girl and hide my body for the sake of avoiding my captorâs wrath. Heâs too unpredictable when heâs upset, and it seems like everything I do has the opportunity to upset him.
Thatâs why I was so confused this morning. When I woke up, I swore I recognized Aidenâs musky scent in the air. He was nowhere to be found, but the rest of my clothes were. And so were my books!
I could hardly believe it.
Yesterday was a vacation compared to the rest of my captivity so far. Along with my outdoor lunches, I also got to dig back into my medical journals. Pouring over those pages made me feel like the girl who dared to dream again. Florence Nightingale. The Ukraine. My training at the hospital. It all washed back over me like a long-forgotten life.
But then came the sadness. It suddenly hit me that if everything had gone as planned, Iâd be in the Ukraine right now, living out an adventure on my own terms, instead of someone elseâs. Though, this hardly feels like an adventure. Up to that point, the furthest Iâd travelled here was to the center of my gilded prison.
It was all so depressing.
By the end of the day, I was beat. Completely emotionally drained. That exhaustion must have kept me asleep while Aiden returned some of my possessions.
But why did he do that?
Our âengagementâ dinner the night before was a disaster. From the moment he came to my room, insults and tears were hurled like weapons. Then he left me at that table, in the light of the most beautiful ring Iâd ever seen, crying all alone, to be escorted back to my cage like a criminal.
His constant contradictions keep me on edge. Those hopeless, frustrating contradictions. How can one man be so many different things?
âWhat do you think?â
I look up from my thoughts and am immediately taken aback. âAnother garden?â This one is even more impressive than the one at the center of Aidenâs mansion, and much more vast. When I look over my shoulder, I can still see the house, but itâs further away than I thought. My mind must really be wandering.
âThis one is semi-natural too. Aiden gathered the seeds of all the most beautiful flowers in these hills and planted them here.â
âHe did? Or he ordered someone to?â
âHe did it himself. I even helped him.â
Thereâs that contradiction again. âWhyâd he do that?â
In a flash, Taraâs cheery façade grows more somber. Instead of using words, she just gently gestures towards a plaque half-hidden behind the gorgeous foliage.
All I have to do is read the name on it to know what this is all about.
Bree Kilpatrick.
Aidenâs mother.
âShe wasnât buried here at first. They had her in a ramshackle cemetery in the foothills. But when the Kilpatricks regained their standing, Aiden made sure to bring her out here. I guess the flowers were his way of saying goodbye.â
I stand in the magnificent garden, desperately trying to connect the image I have of the beast who holds me captive with the image Tara is painting for me. Would the man I think I know do something like this?
No.
Then I must not know him all that well.
But whoâs fault is that? Not mine.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips and the wonderful fragrant scents of my surroundings make my head light with pleasure.
This walk was supposed to provide me with a distraction from my impossible monster. It might have too, if it werenât for that plaque. Now Iâm more curious than ever.
âWho are you?â I whisper, gaze drifting across the thickly plotted earth. Despite its beauty, much of the garden seems to be in disarray. Mindlessly, I bend down and pick up a little flower that has fallen onto its side. Itâs still alive, and I use my finger to dig a hole for it. Carefully, I stick its stem back in, then I brush together some dirt to help hold it up. âThatâs better.â But thereâs more work to be done. Other flowers are drooping nearby.
But before I can attempt to distract myself any further, I feel Taraâs hand falls on my shoulder. âBetter not.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âThis is Aidenâs garden. You know how he is. No one is allowed to tend to it but him. Heâs been so busy recently, though. Thatâs why itâs falling into disrepair.â
âI can help.â
âLetâs worry about you first, Elisa.â
Tara helps me up and we continue on our walk. By the time our smoothies are done, weâre at the top of a clearing on a nearby hill. Not far away, two guard posts stand tall above all the trees. Weâre being watched. Always.
âYou see that pale tree off in the distance?â Tara says, pointing somewhere between the two towers.
I search the horizon until I spot it. And ashy trunk with no leaves curves up from above the lush green canopy. âYes.â
âWhen I was a kid living out in these woods, that was one of my markers. If I ever felt lost, Iâd just climb up to the highest point I could, and look for the white tree.â
âI feel lost right now,â I sigh.
âI know,â Tara commiserates. âBut Iâm here. I know these woods like the back of my hand.â
âYou also know Aiden well.â
âYes,â she nods.
âDid you know about his plan to buy me?â
Tara sighs and looks out towards the pale tree. âNo. I didnât. If I did, I would have tried to talk some sense into him. But these Kilpatrick men are stubborn. Itâs hard to tell them when you think theyâre wrong. Theyâve had so much success in life that they donât really think theyâre ever wrong.â
Behind us, the foreboding mansion rises up through its clearing. From our spot on the hill, I can really tell just how incredible a structure it is. It must have been a pain to build all the way out here and cost a fortune too.
âIf heâs had so much success, then why is he so furious at my father? What could he have done to make Aiden act like he does with me?â
Tara hesitates. âIâm afraid the history of your family and Aidenâs goes back before you were even born. Thereâs so much betrayal and back stabbings that itâs hard to keep track of it all.â
âWhat do you know?â I plead. âPlease tell me.â
Tara purses her lips. âWhat do you know so far?â she echoes back.
âIâd never even heard of the Kilpatricks before Aiden and his dad showed up in Fatherâs office that day that he forced me to sign his marriage contract.â
Tara bends down, patting on the patch of grass beside her. Together, we sit and stare out onto the forest. âI hear things,â Tara starts. âUsually not on purpose, but when you grow up like I did, you get used to walking on thin ice. Aiden used to joke that I was the only person in the world he couldnât hear coming.â
âAiden jokes?â
Tara tries to smother her smile, but itâs futile. Her amusement only fans mine. Suddenly, weâre laughing.
âHeâs not all stone and muscle,â Tara says, brushing her chin. The way she talks about Aiden makes him seem so human. It almost makes me angry. The last thing I want is to sit here while someone close to him sings his praises. To me, heâs just a monster. A complicated gorgeous monster.
At the talk of his body, my mind drifts back to Aidenâs shirtless image. Those dark tattoos wrap his sculpted muscles like black restraints. His stormy eyes are hard and intense. The giant beast growing beneath his pants is ravenous. His heart is stone.
âIâm not sure I believe you,â I say. Aiden is what he is to me. What else can I really go on?
âHe hasnât had an easy life,â Tara continues. âIt may be hard for you to believe it now that he seems to have everything, but growing up, Aiden went through some shit that might have even broken me⦠And your father was responsible for a lot of it.â
A shiver freezes over the light air drifting between us. Suddenly, everything is irrepressibly heavy again. My father is no saint, but what could he have possibly done to such a powerful family?
Suddenly, a thought so horrifying hits me that I nearly keel over from the force of it. âDid⦠Was my fatherâ¦â I canât even put it into words. Instead, I have to approach the question from another angle. âHow did Aidenâs mother die?â
The jovial side of Tara is long gone by now. Her top eyelids droop down and she plays with a chunk off grass at her feet. âThey found her hanging outside of their cabin one morning.â
Bile hitches in my throat. My heart suddenly aches for the stone monster.
âHow old was Aiden?â
âTwelve.â
âHow horribleâ¦â
âYour father wasnât involved in that,â Tara says, sensing my burden. âAt least, not directly.â
Itâs like another shot to the heart. If Aiden blames my father in any way for the death of his mother, could I really blame him for being so spiteful?
âHow so?â
âItâs⦠Itâs not my place. If Aiden wants to tell you, heâll tell you.â
âTara,â I plead. âPlease. Let me know what Iâm up against. Itâs so hard being locked away in the dark like this.â
Humorlessly, the young woman flicks a pile of upturned grass my way. I donât blame her for being so hesitant. It must be hard to straddle such a dark line. Aiden and his family saved her from destitution, but she knows this is wrong. She knows that Iâm an innocent caught up in an ancient war between wolves.
âThe Kilpatricks werenât always rich and powerful,â Tara finally submits. âWhen Aidenâs dad, Rian, moved to New York, he was penniless and alone. Somehow, he hooked up with your dad, a common crook who struggled to meet ends meet. Both were young but ambitious criminals. Together, they built their way up from nothing.â
My father had always been vague about his past. Even when Iâd ask him about mom or his parents, heâd say nothing more than they were gone now. He never talked about a rags to riches story. From the way he made it sound, heâd always been wealthy and powerful. Who was I to doubt anything he said?
âHow did it go wrong?â I ask, dreading the answer. A warm breeze blows over the forest canopy, but Iâm cold. I hold myself tight, expecting the worse.
âFrom what Iâve heard, your father betrayed Rian.â
My heart sinks. âWhy?â
Tara contemplates the question. âIâve heard conflicting theoriesâ¦â
I puff out my chest, like I have to be brave to weather these hard truths. âTell me. Tell me all that youâve heard. Please.â
Tara nods. âThe Kilpatrick brothers all have the same story. Do you know about The Family?â
I shake my head.
âTheyâre a mafia syndicate that runs the entire east coast of the American underworld. When your father and Aidenâs father started to make some serious money of their own, they were asked to join The Family. Problem was, The Family had only ever consisted of Italians. That caused some problems for Rian. Your father took advantage of those problems, and with the help of the other four crime families, they eventually managed to expel the Kilpatricks from their group. Without any protection, Aidenâs family became easy pickings, and soon enough they were destitute.â
Shame weighs heavy on my mind. âIs that around the time Aidenâs mother died?â
âYes.â
âThat must have been so hard.â Slowly, Iâm starting to understand the anger. But thereâs more. I just know it. Iâm almost too afraid to ask. âWhy would my father have done that? Is he just so cruel and greedy?â Iâve never mistaken Father for a saint, but I always listened to the reasons he used to justify his actions. Really, I had no choice. Otherwise, how would I have survived my childhood under his controlling hand?
âYes,â Tara sneers. âHe really is that cruel and greedy.â Sometimes I forget that sheâs practically a Kilpatrick too. âBut⦠Thereâs something else. Something I donât think the Kilpatrick brothers know about. Itâs not just them I overhearâ¦â
âWhat is it, Tara?â
âDonât ask me how I know this, or where I heard it, but there may have been another reason for Ciroâs betrayal.â Itâs so odd hearing someone say my fatherâs first name. To me heâs Father. To everyone else, heâs always either been Don DâIgnoti or boss. But the Kilpatricks hold no reverence for him. And Iâm beginning to understand why.
âWhat? Why did Father betray Rian Kilpatrick?â
âJealousy.â
âOver what?â
âOver Aidenâs mother. I think your father may have been in love with Bree Kilpatrick.â
My heart stops. No. Not just stops. It fucking implodes.
âThat⦠That canât be,â I sputter. âMy father never loved anyone.â Finally, the truth spills out of me. Aiden may be made of stone, but Father was made of ice. He never cared for anyone, and the more time I spend away from his grip, the clearer it becomes that he never really cared for me either.
Tara shrugs, clearly bothered. âIt might not be true. But it would explain a lot. Greed can only push a person to be so cruel, but a broken heart? That can push you right over the edge.â
Despite the heat and the sunlight, Iâm suddenly shivering. Cold tears stream down my cheeks. âThis fucking life,â I gasp through jagged breaths. âWhy does it have to be so fucking hard? Iâm suffering for the sins of my father, and I donât even know why he did what he did. I just want to be my own person. Suffer my own consequences. Be free for once. For once in my fucking life, I just want to be allowed to live for myself.â
Tara nudges closer to me. Despite her practically being a Kilpatrick herself, I feel a kinship to her thatâs hard to avoid. Sheâs not holding much back from me anymore. Even if she does clearly care for my captor, I trust her enough that I can just vent. Sheâs the only person in this whole fucking forest who wouldnât report everything I say back to Aiden.
Iâm thankful for that, at least. Itâs nice to be able to finally spill my guts.
âItâs wrong,â Tara whispers. âThis is all so wrong. But people like us donât have much say in the world of these powerful men. Itâs hard, but the most we can do is look out for each other.â
We lean into each otherâs shoulders. Her warmth calms me a little more, but then paranoia starts to seep in through my skin. âWhy are you being so nice to me?â I ask. âWouldnât it be easier if you just treated me like the prisoner that I am?â
At this, Tara doesnât hesitate. âNo,â she shakes her head. âThereâs no comfort in losing my humanity. Iâd rather betray my loyalties to Aiden than have you wither away in that house.â
âBut I am withering away in that house,â I rasp. âAnd after Iâm forced to marry Aiden, it will be that way for the rest of my life.â
âUnless you escape.â
Taraâs words are so unexpected that they hardly register. Iâm about to talk over her before the weight of them truly hits me. Escape.
âHow?â
Will she help me?
Tara looks down at the mess sheâs made of the grass at our feet. Itâs dirt now and the ground underneath is just as hard as the conflicted look on her face. âAidenâs changed,â she finally says. âHeâs not the same man who rescued me from the darkness. Not even the same troubled boy I grew up beside. I was so proud of him for outgrowing his darkness. For reclaiming his humanity. But he hasnât. Itâs all slipping away again. Whether thatâs your fatherâs fault or not, it doesnât matter. You shouldnât have to suffer because of the history between evil men.â
My heart is beating like crazy. âTara,â I draw in a deep breath. âWhat are you saying? Will you help me escape?â
That last word is like a string. Tara whips her head from side to side, vigilantly scanning for eavesdroppers. I join her.
Weâre alone. The men standing guard at the watchtowers are too far away to be able to hear us.
âHe trusts me,â Tara says. âHe really shouldnâtâI was a fucking junkieâbut he does. Thatâs why it hurts so much to do this. But it needs to be done. You need to be free. I donât care what heâll do to me if he finds out.â
My chest aches with anxiety. Suddenly, nothing seems so settled. âTara. I donât want you to put yourself in any danger for meâ¦â
âIâm always in danger,â she snaps, an unexpected harshness coming over her tone. âThere are shadows in the city that still call my name. Voices wailing up from hell that want to drag my soul back into the flames. Itâs why Iâm back out here in the woods. Iâm trying to escape, but itâs hard. Especially when youâre alone. I want you to know that youâre not alone, Elisa.â
I feel like crying, but my cheeks are already raw and my ducts are empty. âI know, Tara. Thank you. But heâd kill you. Aiden would kill you if he heard this.â
âHe might,â Tara shrugs. âIâve been near death many times before. Iâm not as scared as I should be.â She knocks at her temple with a knuckle. âMaybe Iâm just a bit fried.â The soft smile returns to her lips. âThis needs to be done. But you need to be careful, for both of our sakes.â
Careful. All of a sudden, two lives hang in my hand. Would I even risk ending this nightmare if it meant Taraâs life?
As she looks out onto the horizon, I truly donât know the answer.
Just be careful, and you might not need to find out.
âThe pale tree,â Tara says, after giving one last paranoid look around. âIt wasnât just a landmark for me to gather my bearings. It was an escape from the harshness of the forest. A man-made escape. There are tunnels beneath these hills, Elisa. Tunnels that are as old as the country itself. Maybe they were first built for mining, maybe for smuggling, I donât know. All I know is that Aiden doesnât know about them. No one does. Except for me, and now you. Thereâs a hatch hidden underneath the shrubbery that surrounds that white tree. Find it and it can lead you to freedom.â
The air thins around me. In the distance, the pale trunk looks like a lighthouse. A beacon. But out of the corner of my eye, I can see the watchtowers. Iâm always under supervision.
âHow do I get there?â I ask.
A blade of grass has found its way between her lips. She chews on it like a cowboy. âYouâll need to be given more privileges. More freedom. More trust.â
My heart sinks. Iâm not escaping anytime soon. âAiden wonât ever trust me. How could he? Iâm my fatherâs daughter after all.â
Tara chuckles, the levity sparkling back around her. âDespite his attempts, I can tell heâs having a hard time reminding himself of that.â
âWhat do you mean?â
Tara raises an eyebrow. âHe wants to trust you, Elisa. Aiden may be losing the last bits of his humanity, but in between it all, you seem to be melting a very cold part of him. It probably hurts, the thawing, which is why he seems so unpredictable around you.â
âAre you sure?â
Tara huffs. âNo. You can never be sure about anything with these men. Theyâre just too closely guarded. But I have a feeling, and that feeling is enough for me to think that you have a chance to gain his trust. Do that and he might let you out of his sight for long enough to visit a certain pale white tree. But donât risk it until that moment. Otherwise, we could both lose our lives.â
The responsibility sits heavy on my chest. The pale trunk suddenly doesnât look so bright. It looms through the forest more like a warning than a beacon.
I have to be careful.
âWhile you work on your part, Iâll work on mine. At night, Iâll sneak out and put markers up underground. It will lead you wherever you want. Where do you want to go, Elisa?â
The question elicits a sharp painful response. âI donât know,â I hang my head.
Where do I go? Aiden told me that he recaptured Father, but even if he didnât, would I want to return to him? How would Father treat me? Would he be angry? Would he know how Iâve been corrupted by the Irish beast?
The glory of an escape dwindles inside of me and a dying sadness takes over. I have no family to run to. No friends.
What about Felix? Aiden didnât make it sound like he had him yet. Though, he was clear about what heâd do if he ever got his hands on him.
âDo you have anyone on the outside?â
âThereâs only one person. My old body guard. Felix Difrancesco. Heâs like an uncle to me. But I donât know where he is.â
âWeâll figure that out. We have some time. First, you need to get all of these eyes off of you. You have to gain Aidenâs trust.â
But how do I do that?
I look towards the pale tree on the horizon and my heart clenches. There stands hope and freedom in all of its dangerous glory.
What am I willing to do for it?
Aidenâs made it clear what he wants from me. Obedience. Submission. Everything.
Well, thatâs what heâs going to get.
Itâs my only way out.