"That was to save you." His voice is still quiet, almost a growl.

"I don't need to be saved."

He looks into my eyes. His are fierce and intense, like they're latching onto mine and not letting go. "Yes," he says slowly, dragging out the word. "Yes, you do."

"You don't--"

But he doesn't let me finish. "Do you know why I know you need saving, angel?" he says, his voice rising, moving his face in closer to me. His lips are inches from mine, hot and heavy and so, so close. This close to him, I can feel his breath on my lips, the heat emanating from his body. "I know you need saving because you're like me!" Sebastian continues, his voice filling with rage. "We're both fucked up people. We're both shards of what we once were. We both need saving. We both need… we need… we need each other. We need each other to put back the shards of ourselves." He stops then, his voice rough and consuming, and every part of me feels numb with him this close to me. "These men… I can't let them hurt you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if they did, so I'm keeping you here to protect you from them." He drops his gaze, his hot breath right by my lips. "I love you, angel," he whispers, eyes burning into mine. "I've been broken so many times before. I just want to make you safe."

In that instant, a part of me longs to believe him. A part of me sees how hurt he is, how much he cares about me, and wishes that the circumstances could be different, that none of this ever happened, that I could kiss him without it feeling so, so wrong. He is clearly a broken man, a man in love who doesn't know how to handle it, but at the same time, I won't let myself feel anything but disgust toward him.

I hate him. I hate him and nothing can change that.

So I shake my head, disbelieving, clenching my fists so hard. A tear threatens to fall from my eyes. "Who are you, Sebastian?" I whisper, my voice trembling all over.

He stands up, looks away. He doesn't even meet my gaze. "I don't know, angel," he says at last. "I don't even know anymore."

Then, he turns around and starts walking out of the room. His voice is sad as he calls back while unlocking the door, "I left lunch for you on the table and stocked up the bathroom with everything you'll need. Have a good night." And then he throws open the door, steps through, and slams it behind him, leaving me trapped in here once again.

Chapter Seven

Sebastian doesn’t return until dinnertime. I'd think he's pouting if I didn't know better, but I heard his car leave the house for a few hours, so I assume he's off to see if the men are coming.

While he's gone, I spend my day looking for escape routes. Unfortunately, there are none. At all. The tiny window in the bathroom is blocked by prison bars, and the thick marble walls are so sturdy that even hitting them with a metal chair does nothing. I try the door, too, but it's also marble and totally solid, and without a wire of some sort I can't pick the lock. There is no way to break through the ceiling, and the solid marble floor is too hard to dig through.

There is absolutely no way out, I realize to my absolute horror. The only way is unlocking the door with Sebastian's keys.

Defeated, I slump back into my seat at the end of the table and eat the lunch he left me, feeling sick to my stomach the whole time.

I wonder what my parents would say if they saw me now. Me. Their idiot daughter who fell for a man she didn’t even know, and is now here: locked up in someone else's safe house and possibly going to be killed or tortured herself.

I am pathetic.

No, I'm worse than pathetic. I wanted to love Sebastian so badly, wanted him to love me back, wanted to find happiness for once in my life that I just became too trusting, and then bam. This happened. And now I hate myself for it. I hate the world for not even giving me a little bit of happiness. I hate that the second I see a shred of goodness in my life, whenever I reach for it, I just fall deeper into this never-ending hole.

My parents would be so disappointed. They were so successful when they were alive, loved by everyone as such great sports agents, and look at me. I'm nobody. I can't even get a real job. I can't even have a real friend without it going bad. And now I'm paying for it. Without knowing what to do, I reach for the plate on the table and hurl it against the wall. It shatters into a million pieces, a few of which return to cut at my arm. When I see the blood, my legs go weak, and I just crumple up and cry some more.

I feel so pathetic.

So. fucking. pathetic.

Sebastian returns a few hours later, after I've showered and cleaned myself up and covered up the dried tears. I sweep up the plate, fix my bed, and lie there for a while, looking up at the ceiling filled with various Ancient Greek-esque paintings, wondering if I'll ever get out of here.

I'm still thinking that when I hear a click at the safe house door, and Sebastian steps inside. I sit up, watching him carefully, making sure he doesn't pull anything. The room is dark, but I can see the tired look in his eyes even from here, the way the dark circles are carved beneath him. He's been worrying, I realize. Worrying, for me.

"Angel," he says. He's still wearing his dark suit and bowtie, and his dark hair is cropped back and freshly cleaned, like he just came from sort of business meeting or something.

I don't respond as he approaches. Don't say hello or anything. I only glare at him, hoping he'll leave, but he doesn't. He walks all the way up to me, his blue eyes softer than ever, focused on me. He stops when he reaches my bed, breathing slowly in and out, looking down at me. I can feel his warmth wrapping me up, can feel his body right in front of mine. "How are you?" he says quietly after a few minutes.

My muscles tense up.

That's it. That's all he says. He stands over me in bed, his breath by my lips, asking me how I am. I open my mouth to laugh at him, but his voice sounds so genuine, so full of concern, that I don't have the heart to do it.

I don't understand why he cares, but curiosity gets the best of me, so I decide to answer him. "Not well," I say, looking at my hands, and it's the truth.

He shifts closer to me, resting his body on the edge of the bed. His eyes are still focused on mine, so warm and caring and worried it makes my heart hurt. His side is now inches from my face, the heat from his body pulsing through the air. I sit up and edge away from him, just to be safe.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this, you know," Sebastian breathes, watching me sadly, as if he hates himself for making me distrust him so much. "I wish this wasn't my only choice."

I don't say anything at that. I only look at him, searching his eyes to see if he's lying. Strangely, it doesn't feel like he is. I hate myself immediately for thinking it, though. I mean, he's just trying to trick me, right? He's just trying to gain my trust so he can screw me over later, isn't he? And as much as I want to believe that's the case, I know, deep down, that it isn't. I know Sebastian well enough to tell he is telling the truth.

Sebastian reaches out a hand then, still looking at me, his fingers dangling by my hair. I flinch immediately, and he sighs. "May I, angel?" he asks softly, his voice filled with concern. I start to tell him no, to tell him to get the hell out of here, but the words refuse to come. My throat is too choked up, my voice too hurt from my screaming. So, I take a breath, and I nod.

Sebastian looks at me knowing, then hesitates as he moves his fingers throughout my long hair, expertly touching me, guiding his way across my skin. Something about the way he rubs my hair is so calming, and it makes me want nothing more than to close my eyes and fall asleep to it, to him touching me.