Forever Lost: Becoming Elena - Book Two (12 page)

“We will discuss your behavior after I’ve had some rest.”

That was all he said before slamming the door shut behind him — with her outside, him inside with another woman.

She jumped up, intending to pound on the door. But just as her fists rose, she stopped herself. He’d been breaking her for years. And maybe this time she’d finally shattered.

She leaned against the door, her final tears dripping off her chin before she allowed no more. Then she whispered, “Go to hell.”

She turned and strode toward her room. He’d gone too far this time. She realized, for the first time since discovering she’d been captured, she just might be strong enough to walk away.

E
lena tried to
leave Dalton. She packed a bag with minimal clothes, not knowing how he was going to feel about her taking things from his house; even if they were her clothes, she knew she didn’t have a right to anything.

However, she felt satisfaction as she packed away her toothbrush. It was a silly thing to feel happy about, but if she took her toothbrush, she truly was leaving. No one traveled without a toothbrush, right? Right!

She placed it in her bag then put the final item in: her magical envelope. She was confident in packing that envelope. It gave her an identity – a way to start over.

Once her bag was packed, she slid it to the back of her closet, making sure it wasn’t visible. She’d wait until the middle of the night, and then she would run. Sure, he’d told her she could go away, but she didn’t trust him, didn’t trust that he would let her go. After the night she’d had with him, she wanted to go, wanted to run fast and far.

Normally hours passed quickly, but as she sat in her room, her heart broken, the minutes seemed to take forever. Would he actually care about her leaving? She didn’t think so — not at all, but she was afraid to risk it.

So she sat and waited . . . and waited . . .

No one approached her room, and the clock finally struck two, so Elena decided it was now or never. This was her one shot at escape. If she didn’t take it, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

Before retrieving her bag from the closet, Elena crept from her room and peered down the hallway. She stood there for several minutes, barely allowing herself small intakes of breath as she waited to see if anyone was around.

When she was sure no one was there, Elena moved down the stairs. She needed to check the entire house before grabbing her bag. That was her safety net, and she wouldn’t be caught with it.

She made it to the bottom of the stairs, and an immediate sense of déjà vu hit her hard, causing her to stumble against the wall, fighting an overwhelming sense of panic.

She’d tried escaping once, had made it out of the dungeon at the bottom of the shed, had made it outside — had run for her life. She’d been caught and beaten so badly she’d wished she were dead.

It was different now. It was so different. Dalton didn’t beat her. Yes, he treated her like she was nothing more than a cow waiting for the slaughter house, but he didn’t break her bones — just her soul.

The panic dimmed as she told herself this wasn’t an escape, this was her accepting the freedom Dalton had already offered her, and Elena pushed away from the hallway and began searching the house again.

It was silent. No one was about.

A small smile trembled on her lips. She was going to make it. She was going to leave this house, cut the binds that had held her for so long. Ignoring the slight pang that shot through her heart, she turned to go up the stairs.

In a rush, Elena went to her room, grabbed her bag, and had to force herself not to move too quickly. She didn’t want to blow it now by stumbling over something and causing a loud commotion.

Practically jumping from the bottom stair, Elena moved quickly toward the front door and was stopped in her tracks, fear making her unable to move.

“Are you going somewhere, Elena?”

The bag she’d been clutching in front of her dropped to the floor, and her fingers began shaking. She’d been so sure she’d made her escape, and for him to be there — waiting, watching — an unreadable expression resting on his face, was devastating.

Elena didn’t know how she’d ever thought leaving would go unnoticed. She hadn’t counted on him giving a damn about it. Of course, he most likely didn’t care — he might just not want his property so easily walking out the front or back door.

She said nothing, gazing at him, her bag at her feet making it more than obvious what she’d been doing. He didn’t move, just sat back, looking relaxed in the dim room, a Scotch in his hand, one foot resting on his knee.

Elena knew he was anything but relaxed. Dalton was so good at everything he did because he knew how to hold his emotions close to the vest. He didn’t give away his strategy, and he didn’t blink when playing chicken.

Elena couldn’t look at him any longer. She hung her head, trying to decide if she should just pick up the bag and make a run for it, or accept whatever punishment he would dole out.

What else could the man possibly do to her that he hadn’t already done? Nothing? She was about as broken as a person could be.

“I asked you a question, Elena,” he said in his cool voice.

She was suddenly furious, beyond furious with how much she cared about this man, who obviously didn’t give a damn about her. How dare he take away everything she was but give nothing in return. How dare he sit there so calm and collected when her insides were being ripped out. How dare he!

“You bastard,” she hissed through her teeth, shocked at the venom in her voice.

He didn’t blink, but he showed the slightest reaction by tilting his head a bit to the side as he examined her like a bug on a slide. Before she could interpret that, he was back to calm and collected. He lifted his crystal glass and took a sip, which had fire burning in her veins.

Without conscious thought, Elena flew across the room. She barely noticed the shocked expression on Dalton’s face as she launched into his arms, her hands flying as she aimed them at him, scratching his right cheek and tugging some strands out of his hair before he pulled himself together and shielded her assault.

It took a few more moments before Elena realized the high-pitched shrieks filling the room were coming from her own throat. Even after she figured this out, she couldn’t stop. Her fist connected with Dalton’s strong jaw, and he managed to capture her hands; in her fury she wasn’t even able to feel the low throb of punching solid steel.

Dalton’s arms wrapped around her, effectively cutting off her attack, infuriating her even more. She struggled fruitlessly on his lap as she screamed at him, trying to break away. So much rage and despair were filling her, she wasn’t sure how she would deal with it if he didn’t let her go, didn’t allow her to get it all out.

“I hate you!” she screamed, her body bucking. “Just let me go.”

“Shh, Elena. Calm down.”

The quiet of his voice did nothing to tamper her rage. It only infuriated her more that she was spinning out of control while he was calm and collected. She wanted him to feel something — anything at all.

Pain. She wanted him to feel pain. She needed him to feel even the smallest, barest embers of the pain she felt each and every day. Still, Elena only struggled a few more moments before she knew it was futile, before she knew she’d lost the battle.

She’d never had a chance of winning. He was stronger than her in every way. He was the one who owned her, controlled her, and was in charge of which direction her life was going. She was his — and always would be.

It wouldn’t matter how far she moved from him. It wouldn’t be far enough. He would always be the one in control. That reality was overwhelming. She slumped against him, painful sobs ripping through her, taking her breath away and leaving her weak and desperate, shaking in his arms.

Slowly, she realized his grip on her had changed. He was no longer restraining her, but his arms were wrapped securely behind her, and she felt the tears would never end when his hands turned gentle, and he began stroking her, whispering in her ear.

“It’s okay, Elena,” he said, his voice too soothing.

What did that mean? Was this another trick? She’d attacked him, had been intent on ripping him to shreds, and instead of retaliating, he was comforting her. She didn’t understand.

“You’re there, Elena. You had to get to this point to turn the tides around,” he told her.

She couldn’t comprehend his words, didn’t understand what he was talking about. Soon she had no more tears. She just lay there in his arms, her body shaking, trying to get her breathing under control.

“You had to break,” he repeated.

She didn’t recognize the tone of his voice. It wasn’t one she’d heard before. She had no idea who this man was.

“But you aren’t ready to be freed yet, Elena, not yet,” he said, his hands gently rubbing up and down her back. “But you will leave.”

The last words were spoken with a sigh she really didn’t understand. She had no idea what he was talking about. Elena didn’t trust her voice, didn’t know what she would say, if she could trust her own words.

“I don’t want to let you go, but I will,” he told her.

That caught her attention. Was he going to let her leave, let her walk out? She thought that would have brought her joy, but it didn’t. All his words brought her was a deeper sense of sorrow — a sorrow she hadn’t thought she was capable of feeling.

“Not yet, though, Elena. You’re not ready,” he said, answering the question she hadn’t voiced. “Not yet.”

Dalton stood with Elena in his arms and moved through the room. He stopped; Elena was so exhausted, she wasn’t able to lift her head from his chest. She focused solely on his steady heartbeat.

“Take her bag to her room, Lincoln,” he said and then was moving again.

Elena was in a fog as Dalton climbed the stairs. She tensed when he walked to his bedroom door. She didn’t want to see his whore again. That would have her flying off the deep end again.

“It’s okay, Elena. It’s just you and me,” he said, and she began to wonder if he could read her mind.

He moved over to his bed and stripped off her clothes, then laid her down. She tensed. As much as she hated this man, she also loved him. She was completely drained and wouldn’t be able to handle sex.

But Dalton surprised her again when he stripped down to his shorts and then climbed in the bed beside her, pulling her tightly into his arms.

“Go to sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

She wanted to say something — needed to say something. But she was exhausted. Too much had happened, and she had nothing else left. His heart beat strongly in her ear, Elena’s eyes drifted closed, and sleep pulled her under.

He’d chosen her needs for the first time ever. She fell asleep with a sigh.

B
right morning light
shining in through Dalton’s windows woke Elena. Slowly, she opened her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun’s rays on her cheeks.

She was alone in his huge bed.

She grabbed his pillow and snuggled up to it, pulling her legs up so she was curled into a ball. Her mind flashed with images of the night before: the pain she’d gone through, the rage, the attack, and then his comforting arms.

She still had no idea what any of it meant.

Elena didn’t move for at least half an hour, just lay there with Dalton’s comforting smell surrounding her. She knew she had to rise, had to face the day, but she wanted to be in her comfortable cocoon for a little longer.

Unable to put it off any longer, she rose and went to his bathroom, wincing when she looked in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, and her cheeks were flushed, either from sleep or from her hours of crying.

Either way, she wouldn’t be able to make herself presentable. Instead, she washed her face with cool water, hoping to ease the swelling, and then left Dalton’s room, going to her own to take a shower and get dressed.

Elena found her bag sitting at the foot of her bed; she was nervous as she approached it. It didn’t appear as if it had been opened. Fingers trembling, she undid the zipper and nearly fell to the floor with relief when she found the envelope inside, completely intact.

Elena wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but as long as she had her safety net, there would be a time she’d be able to walk away. It might be days, weeks, months, or even years, but Elena knew there would come a time she’d leave this prison of a home.

Tucking her envelope back to its hiding place, she left the remaining contents of her bag alone, deciding there was nothing in it she needed while she continued residing in the house. She placed the bag in her closet, patting it once before shutting her door.

If she decided to run again, she’d be ready at a moment’s notice.

Elena stayed in her room for several hours until hunger demanded she leave. Better to face whatever she would have to deal with, better than hiding away without having any answers.

She walked with confidence down the staircase, keeping her head up and showing she wasn’t cowered anymore. But Elena knew her false front was showing.

When she rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen, she was stopped in her tracks.

Darcy was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping a cup of coffee, her hair and makeup perfectly done, not a single wrinkle or piece of lint on her clothing. She either had heard Elena or simply felt her presence, but Elena wasn’t standing there long before the woman turned and smiled at her.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Elena,” she said, her voice friendly.

There was no turning back. Elena moved to the kitchen counter and poured herself a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar and grabbing a fresh donut. She moved to the counter and took a seat one chair away from Darcy, knowing the woman would speak whatever was on her mind. Elena wasn’t in the mood to make idle chit-chat, and she didn’t care how the woman was doing, so why bother asking.

“You appear to be angry with me, Elena,” Darcy said, her tone still pleasant.

The woman was far too observant.

“I don’t feel anything toward you,” Elena finally said when she knew her voice wouldn’t sound like a hiss.

The comment made the woman laugh, and even in laughter the woman oozed sexuality and confidence. It seriously made Elena want to claw her eyes out.

“Yes, you most certainly do, Elena. But you will soon realize I’m not your enemy,” Darcy told her before lifting her cup and taking a delicate sip of coffee.

“You certainly aren’t my friend,” Elena muttered.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Darcy said. Still, her tone was so polite it had Elena gritting her teeth. “Do you know how I met Dalton?” Before Elena could say anything, Darcy continued, “Of course you wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t have felt the need to tell you.”

Though her statement was rude, it wasn’t inaccurate. Dalton didn’t share with Elena. At times, he’d opened up the slightest bit, but he hadn’t share anything with someone he considered below him. Elena never expected he would.

“I met him fifteen years ago. He was having a very difficult time in his life, and let’s just say that I . . . taught . . .” she paused on that word as her lips curled up the slightest bit, “. . . him a lot about himself. I showed him ways of dealing with his anger. He had reason to be angry, but I’m not going to share his story with you. If he ever chooses to, that will be his choice.”

Elena wanted to demand the woman explain herself more, but even if Elena begged, she knew the woman would only say what she wanted to say, and nothing more.

“We became good friends,” she said, pausing again. “I was quite concerned when you came into the picture. Not because of jealousy,” Darcy continued with a laugh when she saw the expression on Elena’s face. Once more, Elena clenched her teeth together.

“I was concerned because I wasn’t sure he could help you — not with all you’d been through. Dalton honestly had no idea what was going on with his father. Yes, he knew his father kept young women as girlfriends, but he didn’t know they were underage, as his father never allowed them out when Dalton was around, and he certainly didn’t know the young girls were kidnapped. When he discovered that, he was furious. You were the only one left, and you had nowhere to go. At first he wanted to have you dropped off at the nearest police station, but everything he’d built over the years could have been shattered if you remembered and pointed a finger. He truly was trapped,” Darcy said with a sigh.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Elena said, her anger building.

“Oh, I know that, dear,” Darcy told her, reaching over and patting Elena’s hand. She jerked it away, not wanting comfort from this woman. Darcy didn’t even blink, just continued on with her story.

“When Dalton decided to keep you, I wasn’t too concerned, but then I noticed his growing fascination with you — something I’d never before seen. Of course, you wouldn’t know what to look for, so you wouldn’t have seen it, but I was worried, then I began to hope that you might be the one for him.”

At those words, Elena’s heart thudded, much to her consternation. She hated how much she wanted the words to be true.

“I think you are both too broken for that. However, I do think you can heal each other enough to move on,” Darcy continued.

“What does that mean?” Elena asked, curious enough to ease some of her anger.

“It means that Dalton truly does want to help you. He won’t want to let you go in the end, but you will go. I already see strength in you that wasn’t there a year ago,” Darcy told her.

“I didn’t know you a year ago,” Elena pointed out.

“No. You didn’t know me. But I was very aware of you,” Darcy said.

That didn’t sit well with Elena. She didn’t like the idea of yet another person knowing her so intimately without getting a choice in the matter.

“Never mind all of that,” Darcy told her as she waved her hand in the air, brushing it aside. “Things are going to change for you again.”

Silence greeted her words. Elena really had no idea what the woman was talking about. How much more could her life change? She winced at that thought. It wasn’t something she should put out there. Obviously, her life could change on a dime.

“There was a time I was very broken too, Elena, and someone helped me. Now, no one would dare defy me.”

The woman had a glint in her eyes that sent a shiver down Elena’s spine. What did she mean by that? Even though she was petite, there was a look in her eyes that told Elena she was a lot stronger than people probably gave her credit for.

Elena decided as much as she’d wanted to be like Tina, she wanted to be like Darcy more.

“Yes, I see you’re interested,” Darcy said, and Elena’s eyes widened. She couldn’t have possibly known what Elena had been thinking about.

“Dalton is waiting for you upstairs in the cave. Be there in exactly one hour. Your new training will begin.”

With those parting words, Darcy rose and gracefully walked from the room. Elena didn’t budge for at least ten minutes; her coffee grew cold, and her donut went uneaten.

If Dalton was in the cave, wouldn’t now be the time to escape?

No. Elena knew it wouldn’t be that simple. The timing would have to be perfect. She didn’t know what was coming next, that was usual for her. It also didn’t matter.

Even if Elena didn’t like Darcy, the woman was right; Elena wanted to be strong like her. Maybe she truly would learn something in the next chapter of her life.