Cruel Control by Candace Wondrak

Chapter Thirteen – Juliet

I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to cry. To scream. To shout to the world and anyone that was listening, to ask them what the heck was wrong with these people.

This wasn’t normal. What I watched wasn’t normal. How could anyone live with themselves after doing that? How could anyone take pleasure in hurting a defenseless woman like that, and then killing her?

Just… how?

My legs took me away from the office at a full sprint. After asking Markus about Daddy, after getting nothing for an answer, after seeing the look on his face, how could I sit there and act normal? Daddy was a killer, a man who did things like that… all because Markus told him to. That was his job. I couldn’t even imagine.

How could Daddy come home to me and act so normal? Why didn’t I see any of the signs? Was I too blind? Was I too stupid, or was he just that good at pretending? I didn’t know which option would make me feel better, and I suspected I wouldn’t, either way.

Markus was right. The truth hurt, and this particular truth felt like a dozen knives in my chest, all stabbing me at once. Like a ton of bricks piled one after the other on my body, squeezing me down until there was nothing left.

My heart literally hurt. It hurt so much I didn’t know how it was still beating. I felt betrayed and confused, and I wasn’t sure if Daddy walked in right now to take me away that things would ever return to the way they were.

How could they? How could things go back to normal when I knew the truth?

It had to be why he never wanted me to leave the house. It had to be why he kept me so sheltered, why he blocked certain websites from our internet, why I never had a phone of my own, why we still had a landline so he could reach me while he was away. There was no other explanation for it.

And I’d gone along with it like a stupid, brainless child, hardly questioning him because Daddy knew best.

But he didn’t. Daddy didn’t know best. Daddy didn’t know shit.

I found my way to the first floor, stumbling as I went. I didn’t know where I was going, but when I recognized the area of the house I was in, I felt the urge to go to the one place I never thought I’d go willingly, a place where, at first, I’d felt violated and examined like a lab rat. But it was the only place I could think of to go.

I didn’t knock. I busted in through the door, finding Theo in the middle of organizing his cabinets, where he kept a stash of prescriptions, by the looks of the pill bottles near him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when I rushed in, dropping the two that were in his hands. They fell to the floor, rolling away from his shoes.

“Oh, Juliet, it’s you,” he spoke, sounding relieved it was only me. “Is there something…” He trailed off when he noticed the wetness on my cheeks, when he saw how puffy my face was. Theo’s expression changed, morphing into one of deep concern. He started to move toward me, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Maybe it was a mistake, but I rushed toward him, colliding with his chest so hard I nearly knocked us both off our feet. My hands gripped his shirt, bunching up the fabric, and I buried my face in his chest as I cried.

Theo was shocked, at first, at my actions. I didn’t think he knew what to do with himself. But then, after a few moments, I felt him sigh, felt his chest rise and fall evenly as his arms gingerly went around me, holding me softly. “What happened?” he asked, his voice so much kinder than anyone else’s, the exact kind of gentle I needed right now.

“Markus showed me a video,” I cried out, unable to look at him. I could hardly speak, for goodness sake. My words were broken up by coughs and hiccups… and snot. I felt like a child, crying like this, but I felt so hurt. So unbelievably hurt I couldn’t even describe it. Soul-shattering.

Theo didn’t ask what video, nor did he ask what was on the video, which meant he must know what went on here. He had to know. Did that mean he was okay with it? With what these guys did?

How could anyone be okay with it?

“Am I stupid?” I asked his chest—his chest which, surprisingly, provided a comfortable kind of support. Kind of like the arms I felt hugging my back. I would’ve felt really dumb if Theo would’ve pushed me away.

“What?” Theo asked, leaning his chin on my head, rubbing my back with one of his hands. “Why do you think you’re stupid?”

“Because I never knew. Because I—I never thought my dad was capable of doing things like that. I wanted the truth, but now I don’t know what to do with it.” God, I sounded pretty pathetic, didn’t I?

Theo sighed. “You’re not stupid, Juliet. There are certain types of people in this world. Some of them are capable of terrible things, yes. Some don’t feel any guilt for what they do.” He hugged me harder, and I tried to get myself under control, to reel in my feelings and stop balling my eyes out. “Some people, like you, I think, choose to see the best in people. Does that mean you’re stupid? No, I don’t think so. In fact, I actually think that makes you stronger than anyone else.”

Okay, now that was confusing.

I leaned my head back, causing him to lift his chin off me. I stared up into his amber eyes. “How?” It didn’t make sense to me. Seeing the best in people, in people that had no good in their hearts… what was the point? What did it matter? How in the world did that make me stronger than anyone else?

Theo smoothed my hair, giving me a gentle smile. “It’s a harder path. It’s easy to look at someone like Markus or Lincoln and believe there’s no good in them. It’s a lot harder to look at them and think that, maybe, somewhere in there, they have a heart, even if it’s a tiny one.” He let out a sigh, and the feeling of his chest rising and falling so evenly against my body gave me a sort of peace. “Just look at Tori. You met her, right?”

Now it was my turn to let out a sigh. I nodded. “Yeah. She’s… she’s something else.”

“She’s also Lincoln’s daughter,” he said, although I wasn’t sure who the heck Lincoln was. “He loves her. Even though he might take pleasure in some of the… blacker things in life, he still loves her. So, no, I don’t think you’re stupid or weak.” He brought both hands to my shoulders, squeezing gently. “I think this house and the people in it just don’t know what to do with you.”

I was well aware that everything he said was only to try to make me feel better. I mean, there was no way Theo actually thought any of those things, right? Maybe he was a good guy, but anyone else in this house? No. None of them were.

He dropped his hands off me, and I felt the insane urge to lean into his chest again, only this time not while I was crying. Just so he could hold me.

“How about you be my helper for the rest of the day, hmm?” Theo asked, gesturing to his cabinets after he bent to pick up the two bottles that rolled away from him. “I was just doing some reorganizing.” He gave me a smile, and it was such a warm, welcoming smile that I felt my insides heat up.

Funny how even a small act of kindness could make a world of difference.

“Okay,” I said, wiping at my cheeks, wishing I didn’t look like I’d just been crying. Crying made you all puffy and ugly, and for some reason, I didn’t want Theo to see me like that. I didn’t want him to see me like a crying child. I wanted…

Well, at this point, I didn’t think what I wanted mattered much at all.

Everything felt wrong. Off, somehow. I didn’t know how or why, but I struggled to open my eyes. I tried to move, but that wasn’t right, either. Something caught me, something cold and tight, on my wrists. I felt the floor beneath my feet, so I knew I was standing.

Standing with my arms held high over my head and my bare feet on the floor.

Though it was one of the most difficult things I’d ever had to do in my life, I opened my eyes. My eyelids felt like stone, much heavier than they should be. It was like my body didn’t want to work as it should, not wanting to play this game.

When I opened my eyes, when I saw where I was, my heart leaped in my chest for all the wrong reasons. I wasn’t in bed, but I wore my fuzzy unicorn pajamas. The only thing I had left from home, the one thing that reminded me of the life I’d left behind when I was brought here. I wasn’t in the room they’d given me, not under the sheets of the bed that had been mine since arriving.

No, I was somewhere much darker, much colder. A place where all hope went to die.

I didn’t remember how I got here, or why. I didn’t remember anyone dragging me down here and chaining me up, but I was too frantic to think about how weird it was, how it didn’t make much sense. Too worried, my heart pounding too wildly in my chest.

I looked up, seeing the silver chains clamped tightly around my wrists. No amount of movement on my part caused a difference. I couldn’t get out of here. I was as weak as a cat, a helpless cat who was about to be tossed into the river, to a current I would not be able to fight. I would drown, and that knowledge scared me to my core.

The door to my little room opened, metal creaking as someone dressed in black entered. I met his pitch-black eyes, stopping my struggling immediately when I saw his face. The thin stubble on his square jaw, the unamused, narrowed stare he gave to me, how the suit on his body hugged every part of him as if it was made for him.

Markus Scott, the devil himself. The man above all other men, the one who played the puppeteer, the maestro to this savage song. In all my life, I never imagined I’d look upon the face of a man so cruel, a man so vicious and violent, and yet here I was.

Here I was, and here I would stay.

We stared at each other in silence for a good, long while. He made no moves to step closer, nor did I attempt to break free. I was suddenly so very aware of the state of my pajamas, and I almost apologized to him, as if I owed him anything. But I didn’t. I didn’t owe this man anything, and yet, like a cat, he had my tongue.

I knew it right then, knew the cold, hard truth in my soul, and it was an earth-shattering kind of realization, something that only came once in a lifetime, maybe. I could never run from him, never escape him, because he would always be there. Always there, ever watchful, ready to smite any and all those who opposed him.

I was not strong enough to fight him. I never was. Trying to… what a joke I’d been. It wasn’t a wonder why Markus didn’t take me seriously. I mean, look at him, and look at me. Look at us both and tell me which one of us was stronger. It sure wasn’t me.

“Why are you doing this?” It took me a moment to recognize my own voice. It came out so tired and weary, dry, and each word felt like a razor blade making its way up my throat. How long had I been here? How long would I stay?

Was he… was he going to kill me, finally put an end to this miserable game? As pathetic as it made me, I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want to die. I was like everyone else in that respect, I supposed, constantly seeking out whatever tomorrow would bring.

Let me have a tomorrow. Let me have a future. Do not end it all here, not for me. There was still so much left I wanted to do.

“You know exactly why I’m doing this,” Markus spoke, revealing he clutched a large kitchen knife in his hand. Its steel glinted in the dim light, and as I saw it, I felt the need to scream—but I kept it bottled inside, not wanting him to see my weakness.

I was scared, yes, but that didn’t make me weak. I could still look the devil in the eyes as he killed me. Maybe he’d remember me then, remember me as the girl who never blinked.

“Then,” my voice croaked out, my body slumping, “I guess you have to do what you have to do.” Such resignation, I hated it, but what more could I say? What more was there to say? Markus would never be swayed by me or anything I could’ve said; it would only be wasted breath, and at this point, I did not want to waste a single thing, now that I knew I stared death in the face.

His lips curled into a smile. “Oh, Juliet, do you think I’m going to do it?” He paused to laugh at me, his deep voice echoing in the room as his chest shook with maniacal pleasure. “I’m afraid I have something else planned for you.” He stepped aside, and I saw he was not the only one who’d come into the room.

Someone stood behind him, someone who wasn’t nearly as large or as intimidating. Someone who, until very recently, I used to trust implicitly. But now… now I didn’t know what to feel as I gazed upon his tired, haggard face.

Daddy.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Markus’s voice cut through my thoughts, so strong I winced before I realized it. “Dear Daddy, here to save his daughter. Although, I don’t think he’s going to save you in quite the way you hoped.” He stepped aside, handing Daddy the knife.

And Daddy took it.

He actually took it, not saying a single word as he moved to stand in front of me. He blocked out Markus, blocked out the light. All I could see was his face, how disappointed he was in me. Even though I didn’t think my heart could break anymore, I felt it cracking inside.

“Daddy,” I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Daddy said, his eyes darker than mine. They weren’t blue, but they weren’t quite green, either. They were somewhere in between, and never had they looked so sorrowful, so full of disdain toward me. “This is my fault. I brought you into this world… and now I have to take you out of it.”

“No,” I whimpered. Was it wrong of me to rather want Markus to do it? Was it messed up that I would rather have Markus skin me alive than have Daddy hurt me? All my life, I thought Daddy was God. He was it, he was everything, he was all I ever needed and more. So what if he kept me locked up? So what?

What good was the world outside, anyway? There were no Prince Charmings. No heroes. There was only the bad and the worse, and I’d gotten caught up with the latter, all because Daddy wasn’t the saint I thought he was.

Lies. He was a liar. He was a liar, and I was about to pay for being so stupid to believe in him.

“Daddy,” I said again, voice breaking when I watched him lift the knife. “I thought you loved me.” Wasn’t that why he’d kept me locked up all these years? Why he got so furious at me for leaving his side at that party? Wasn’t it why Daddy said it was best for me to learn my lesson, locked away in the darkness of my room with no one to call a friend?

He looked as if he was about to stab me, but my words gave him pause. His eyes clouded over, his mouth curling into a frown. “Juliet,” Daddy whispered, “I did love you. I loved you more than anything in the whole world. You know that.” Still he did not let go of the knife, and its sharp steel was an ever-present reminder of what he was about to do.

“You don’t hurt the ones you love,” I muttered, knowing, deep down, my words would not get through to him. It wouldn’t matter. He would do what Markus told him to; he’d kill me.

Daddy shook his head once, his free hand reaching up and cupping my cheek tenderly. He held onto me softly, the expression on his face agonized. “Oh, baby,” he whispered. “That’s where you’re wrong. You always hurt the ones you love.”

And then he brought the knife to my chest, stabbing me right in the heart.

I woke up with a jerk, breathing hard, my eyes instantly opening. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest, the faint feeling of what Daddy did to me in my dream lingering, an invisible sensation that shouldn’t even exist.

My skin was lined with sweat from the dream, and honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even had a dream, let alone a nightmare like that. My neck felt scratchy, and I reached up, setting a hand above my heart. I could feel it beat beneath the pajamas.

What was wrong with me? Why was I still here? Why didn’t I try to run?

I had to be insane, I had to be. There was no other explanation for it. But now that I knew how stupid I’d been, how idiotic everything was, what use was it to stay here? Wouldn’t I be better off wandering the streets in a daze, trying to find my way home? It sure had to be better than staying here, under this roof, sharing air with monsters.

I flipped the sheets off me, my bare feet landing quietly on the carpet below. I didn’t stop to think about how stupid this idea was. After all, in the very beginning I’d said I would run. Why didn’t I? Why did I think sticking around and hoping for the best would actually get me there? It was all so pointless.

So why not run? Why not get out of here? Even if I wound up dead in a ditch, did it matter? At this point, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go home, not with everything Daddy had kept from me. The lies… how could you justify them?

I exited my room, glancing both ways down the hall. The night was in full swing, the moon in the sky, its silver light shining into the windows on the opposite wall. I left my door cracked, trying my best not to make a single sound as I crept through the house, finding my way downstairs.

The last time I’d made the mistake of going to the front door, trying to snoop in Markus’s office, but I knew enough now. I didn’t need to know any more of the truth. What I knew was already too much, and it weighed heavily on my heart. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to live with the burden of the truth.

I went out the back door, the door that let out onto the patio near the pool. My feet took me out, farther than I’d ever been, past the garden and around the side of the house. It looked like this castle-like mansion was the only one around, no neighbors to be seen. Didn’t surprise me, not with what went on in this house.

I could go to the police, but would they believe me? The Scotts were a rich family, and I’d seen and heard enough news stories to know the rich hardly ever got their comeuppance. Everything was different if you had money.

In my heart, I knew it right then: the police were out of the question. Trying to go home was the only thing I could do, and then, if I somehow made it back, I’d confront Daddy and demand to hear the truth from his lips. Would it hurt as much, or would it hurt more? Probably the latter, because until very recently, I used to think Daddy was amazing.

He only did what was best for me, what he had to do to keep me safe, even if I hated it sometimes. He was the only family in my life. I couldn’t even remember what happened to Mom. Ever since I could recall, it’d just been Daddy and me, and a part of me thought that’s always how it would be.

But now, with a heaviness in my heart, I knew it couldn’t be like that. Things had to change. I needed… I needed to be let free, to spread my wings on my own, and whether I failed or not didn’t much matter. The point was I would try. That’s all anyone could do in life. Succeed, fail, make it on my own or come crawling back to Daddy with my tail tucked between my legs. Whatever the outcome would be, it would be my choice.

My feet picked up the pace in the grass. It took longer than I thought to get around the house. The thing was huge, no joke, literally like a castle. In the night, it seemed even bigger, more expansive, and I felt sick when I remembered that video and what took place in it.

That couldn’t be the only video. There had to be more, which meant… all these people, all these guys, the ones that made my mind and my body curious of things I’d never had before, were all killers. They were all monsters, and I could never look at any of them the same way.

How could I? How could any sane person be okay with that? I wasn’t. I couldn’t. I refused to swallow it down and pretend like everything was fine. I’d had my first nightmare in what felt like forever—I’d only ever dreamed of that night for the last two years, the night I first met Markus Scott.

How dumb was I to ever think anyone at that party could be my Prince Charming?

I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears as I rounded the side of the house, finally able to see the high stone walls surrounding the property and the metal gate that blocked off the driveway. The gate would probably be easiest to climb; I didn’t trust myself to be able to heave myself over a high stone wall like that, with nothing to hold onto to pull my body up.

As I hurried down the drive, to the wrought iron gate, I was well aware there were cameras everywhere. I had no idea if they had someone watching them twenty-four-seven, but it didn’t matter. No one was nearby; it was just me. Now was literally my chance.

I stopped when I stood at the base of the gate, craning my neck back to look up at it in the moonlight. Its top was spiked; I’d have to be careful when I crawled over to not cut or impale myself, but it looked doable.

Knowing every second I wasted was another second someone could catch me, I heaved a giant breath and grabbed the base of the gate. It did not move, didn’t shake at all, so it wasn’t like I could pry it open and slip through. The gate was motorized, so I would not overcome it with sheer strength. The only way was up and over.

My hands felt clammy and sweaty, which was odd, given the coolness of the night air, but I supposed I owed that to my nightmare and that awful, horrible video. That video, the glee those masked people took in doing what they did… that would remain with me until the day I died. I would never understand how people could be like that.

I would never be like that.

I started to climb, pushing my bare feet in between the bars. It took a bit of maneuvering, but I got the hang of it. My arms were not full of muscle, so it was hard to pull myself up, but I managed. Bit by bit, inch by inch, I climbed that gate, and the higher I went, the more I could taste my freedom. Even though I was outside and the air was clean, it just tasted better once I got my head above the iron spikes of the gate.

I moved my hands to the top of the gate, about to pull myself up and over, but I got too giddy about how close it was. My foot didn’t catch the bar it should’ve, and it caused me to stumble in my climbing, struggling to get another foothold as I held on.

In the end, I could only blame my sweaty hands.

My sweaty hands lost the grip they had on the top of the gate, slipping. Gravity was unrelenting, pulling me down, quick to remind me of my ineptness. It wasn’t a long distance to fall, and yet, as I fell, it was like time itself had gone in slow-motion, everything around me slowing to a near stop as I tumbled to the concrete below.

And then, when I was down, the back of my skull connected to the concrete with a hard thud, and everything went black.

I stood in a kitchen that was both familiar and not. I did not remember how I got here, but I knew I shouldn’t be here. My ears heard not a single sound anywhere in the house, and judging from the dishes in the sink, it’d been a long time since someone had cleaned.

Glancing down, I found that I wore a dress. The same dress and tights I’d worn to that party all that time ago, even though the memory of that night was fuzzy in my head, for whatever reason. I ran my hands down my sides, not recalling why I wore this, why I was here.

Nothing made sense to me.

When I looked up, I saw a doorway. Like, just a doorway, sitting in front of me in the kitchen, not attached to any wall. It sat there, wordlessly drawing me closer. It was an old, wooden door, something that smelled ancient and dirty, and it was so very out of place here, yet I knew that door.

I knew it, but I didn’t know how I knew it.

I inched closer, outstretching my arm, ready to open it.

But I didn’t get to open it, for in the next moment, I opened my eyes and found that I was back inside the Scott’s house, laying in my bed, with a pounding skull and a sore back. I worked to sit up, feeling like I wanted to vomit for a whole host of new reasons, and I saw I was not alone.

Will stood near one of the windows, gazing out of it, his arms crossed. When he heard me rustling in the sheets, he glanced over his shoulder at me and gave me a grin. “There you are,” he said. “Doc was worried about you, but I knew you’d wake up. You’re stronger than you look.”

I closed my eyes for a few moments, squeezing my hands into fists. Not strong enough to get myself out of here, apparently. Just strong enough to get myself hurt in an attempt to escape. How pathetic.

Once I was done hating myself, at least for the moment, I saw a tray of food sat near my bed, on my nightstand. Theo, probably. And it wasn’t breakfast food, which meant I’d been knocked out for hours. The pain in my skull had to be an indication of that. Hope I didn’t crack anything.

“What happened?” Talking made the pain worse, and I lay back down, trying to lessen it.

Will moved from the window, walking toward my bed. Sunlight streamed in, enough to fully light everything. Way too much light, if you asked me. He stopped when he stood beside me, staring down at me with secrets residing in his hazel eyes. “You tried to run, and now Markus is so ticked off, he doesn’t care that we’re alone together. I’m supposed to watch you. Apparently Jaxon isn’t trusted enough to do it, not anymore.”

I had nothing to say to that. Nothing at all.

His shoulders went up and down with a single sigh as he moved to sit on the edge of my bed. “Why did you run?” he asked.

I didn’t want to answer, but after everything, what was the point in dragging any of this out? If Will didn’t already know, he might as well be aware that I knew the truth about this place and what they did to people.

“I know what you do,” I whispered, turning my head to glare. I probably looked silly, glaring from my pillow, but I didn’t care. At this point, glaring was about the only thing I could do. “I know you kill people. I know you hurt them. You make them wish they were dead before you do it. You’re all murderers.” Hatred filled my tone, and I was not strong enough to hide it.

Will kept grinning, as if this was hilarious to him. “I mean, I never hid the fact that I am what I am. Not to you.”

I wanted to argue with him, but I realized he was right. From the beginning, Will had basically admitted what he was to me, but I’d been too blinded to see it. I’d thought he was creepy… but he was the only one here telling me the truth.

I didn’t know how to process that.

“Markus told you?” Will asked, brown brows creasing as he continued to stare. He did not seem hurt at all by the venom in my voice.

“No,” I paused, wishing I could block it all from memory, “he showed me a video. I saw everything I needed to see.”

He was quiet for a while, and then he looked away, gazing off into space. He was quiet for a long while, until he whispered, “You know that’s it, then.” The sentence was vague, and to me, it made absolutely no sense.

“What do you mean?” With every word I spoke, my head throbbed just a bit more. What I needed was more sleep, but I was half-afraid to close my eyes again, lest I remember that video or have another strange dream about a random door.

Better a door than the other nightmare I had, at least, where Daddy killed me.

Will’s eyes were back on me. “That’s it, Juliet. If Markus showed you a video, that means you’re never getting out of this house. You’re here to stay, whether you like it or not.”

That got me to sit up—and another wave of pain to thrash across my skull like a tidal wave. “But he said… I thought once my dad came to his senses, he’d let me go.” I sounded so weak right then, but I didn’t care. I felt weak.

“Oh, little rabbit, you’ve tumbled down the rabbit hole without even knowing, and now that you’re in Wonderland, you’re not going to get back out.” Will almost sounded sad. “I don’t know if he plans on killing you at the end of this or what, but I’m sorry.”

His words cut like a knife. “Don’t.”

“No, I am. I am sorry, Juliet, because I can tell—you’re not one of us. You’re not supposed to be here. You are so much better than any of us could ever hope to be.” While I was looking away, Will reached over to me, lightly running a finger along the side of my cheek. The soft sensation sent warmth through me, and I suddenly remembered that night.

Our date. What happened during it. Kissing those lips and wishing for something more.

Will’s hand fell away, and I was slow to meet his gaze once more, seeing the genuine emotion in his eyes. Everything he said, he wholeheartedly believed, unless he was that good of an actor. But then, he’d never tried to hide how off his rocker he was. He was the only one in this house that did not try to fool me.

“It’s not going to be pretty,” he warned. “So I suggest you do what you can to get yourself ready. When Markus is pissed, people tend to die at a much faster rate than normal.” He grinned softly at that. “Then again, the same can be said of any Scott, really.”

Somehow, that last part didn’t make me feel better. Not even a little.