And if so, Marco could very well be lying about Sebastian, right? Just to turn me? I tell myself yes. I tell myself it's true. I try not to question it.

After a few hours of sitting on the couch, Sebastian brings me dinner. We eat in silence, or at least he does. I don't really eat. My appetite has totally evaporated after today.

I catch Sebastian glancing between me and my food a few times with obvious worry, but he doesn't say anything, to my relief. He just watches me, trying to figure out what's wrong.

After a while, he stands up and clears my plates, leaving me alone in the living room. I star trembling all over despite myself as he's gone, trying to make sense of all of this. But one thing is clear: I need to figure out if that man really was Marco.

When Sebastian returns, sitting down beside me, I turn to him. "Sebastian," I say quietly, taking a deep breath to ensure my voice sounds as calm as possible. "Can you tell me… what Marco looks like? Just so I know?"

He narrows his eyes as soon as I say it. He looks worried, maybe even suspicious. "Why do you want to know?" he says, raising his voice.

I look away. "I just do. I need to know… who to watch out for. Don't I? In case something happens?"

"Nothing will happen, angel," Sebastian says, hard and determined, nuzzling up against me.

"But in case it does. I want to know." I bite my lip. It takes a lot of effort to keep my voice from shaking. "Do you have a picture of him?"

Sebastian sighs, but nods. He goes into the kitchen and searches for something, but I don't follow him. I keep my eyes glued to the TV screen, hating myself and Sebastian and Marco or whoever the man was for making all of this happen.

Sebastian returns holding up a photograph. It's old and dusty, and I take it gingerly, squinting to make out what it is.

The picture is of a man dressed in a suit like Sebastian's carrying a large gun and smirking at the camera. He's tall, with slick dark hair and a rough face. He definitely looks familiar, but it's not until I see the man's eyes that I know for sure.

The man's eyes are the same deep green as I'd seen before, so strong, even through the photo.

My heart stops. My stomach churns.

The man I talked to was Marco.

I know it with every fiber of my being then.

I want to cry. To scream. To figure out a world in which any of this makes sense.

Why would Marco approach me but not kidnap me? If he's really after me, why did he only talk to me, rather than hurt me like Sebastian said he wants to? And would Marco lie about Sebastian to get me to turn on him? He would, right? But at the same time, I'm not so sure he was lying.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My hands have started trembling as I clutch the photo in my hand, wishing I could find a way to get some answers. But there is nothing. There is no way. I'm stuck here, and the only way I can know for sure is to ask Sebastian.

I glance over at him, in his fancy suit, his beautiful dark hair spilling over his forehead, and I just don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can ask that, especially if I'm wrong.

My toes curl. How come whenever I get even a shred of happiness in my life, someone is always there to rip it right back? How come everything ends badly for me? How come I never get the happy endings I read about in books?

"Angel, tell me what's wrong," Sebastian says a little harshly, his eyes narrowing. "Have you seen Marco before? Has he tried to hurt you?"

"No!" I say quickly. "No, nothing like that! It's just…" I open and close my eyes, handing Sebastian back the picture and working hard to keep my hands from trembling. Flashes of Sebastian holding a gun on my parents start racing through my mind, and it's all feeling more and more plausible by the second. "It's just that this is all so much, you know?" I say at last. "I don't know what's going on anymore." Or who to trust, I add silently.

"Let me make the pain better," Sebastian says, reaching over and wrapping his arms around mine. But tonight, it's uncomfortable for some reason. He doesn't hold me any differently than he used to, but now it feels so wrong, like something is very, very off about feeling him beside me. Touching Sebastian just makes me feel sick, and images of my parents dying, of my dad jumping to save my mom and Sebastian pulling the trigger on them fill my mind.

The police said it was a robbery, but Sebastian is a professional. If he really did kill them, he could have easily made it seem like a robbery, right? But why would he want them dead? Did Marco call the hit, or did Sebastian do it on his own? I shake my head. I don't even know anymore. So many questions race through my mind, but I don't know the answers to any of them. All I know is that I may very well be in love with my parents' murderer.

Sebastian brings me closer into his arms, holding me gently, loving, like he always does. He starts kissing the top of my head again, but it doesn't feel as comforting as before. Instead, it just makes me want to push him off and leave this place. All I can think about is my parents' bodies. All I can think is that he may have done it.

Sebastian moves his kiss down from my head to my neck, holding me by my arms, dragging his tongue along my pale skin. It feels wrong, though. It feels so wrong. And I want him off of me so badly that I can't help but shove him away, perhaps too roughly. "Not tonight," I whisper, my hands shaking.

He frowns, cupping my chin and looking right into my eyes. "What's wrong?" he says, urgently this time.

"Nothing." I roll over. "I'm just tired. Please leave me alone."

"No." Sebastian stands up, his eyes flaring. "No. I'm done leaving you alone. I'm done seeing you get hurt. I just want you to feel better, angel, and you were better until I gave you some freedom today."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Stop it, Sebastian. Just fucking lock me up here or whatever you're going to do to me, okay? I need to go to bed."

Sebastian stops. Steps forward. Anger radiates from him, and I can hear it in his breath, can feel his eyes burning into mine, even though mine are closed. "Why do you think that?" he says, raising his voice. "Why do you think I'm locking you up here?"

I shake my head, annoyed. "You said yourself I'm your prisoner, remember, Sebastian?" I say too harshly. "I'm just the idiot who you lock up and fuck and move on with after a few weeks. You're probably going to kill me and dump me like you do to everyone else after you're done with me."

"Don't you dare say that." The hurt in Sebastian's voice is palpable. "Don't you fucking dare! I love you, angel. Don't you get that? I love you. I would never, ever hurt you. And yes, you were my prisoner. But that was before. Things have changed. You aren't my prisoner anymore. You're my lover. We're meant for each other, don't you see? You love me even for my flaws. You're my hero, my savior, and I'm just returning the favor."

My eyes shoot open, and I stand up to face him, nostrils flaring. "How is this returning the favor? How is locking me up doing me any good? Because it isn't, Sebastian. It's doing nothing. You're--you're running me." My voice cracks. "You're ruining me, your own lover."

Sebastian face is totally red now, and he's in my face, making my blood boil. My heart keeps pounding and pounding but I'm not in the mood to back down. I'm never backing down, not to him. "I am done taking risks with you, angel!" he shouts. "The one time I let you out of my sight for just a few minutes today, you start acting like this. This is what I mean! This is why I keep you so close! I don’t want to fucking lose you, don't you get that? I want you to be mine. I'm not letting Marco or anyone get to you. So I'm done. I'm done giving you freedom. I'm done trusting you. You're getting your wish, angel. You are my prisoner now. You are mine. Now go the fuck to bed so I can lock you up here."