Enemy Basis | COMPLETE

37| manic man

DARCY

I awoke, imprisoned by arms of steel, their grip ruthlessly constricting, ruthless, evil. I forced myself to feel nothing, be numb to my surroundings so I wouldn't have to feel the fear that stroked my spine malevolently at the touch of the cool metal on my temple.

There was nothing I could do but wait in his hold, not trying to push him, to aggravate him with only one little trigger between my life and death. He was manic and I just had to try and wait this one out, no matter how horrible it was.

I stood out in the cold, still in the dress that Lennox had gifted me as the chills overtook my legs, still weak from the haze they had been under. As we stood without neither Mathew or I talking, I had a feeling that we were waiting for someone but I just didn't know who and the tension felt unbearable, insufferable. I wanted nothing more than to be away from this man and his nightmare-infested aura.

After a while, the darkness moved. I narrowed my eyes whilst keeping painfully still so I could see who it was and after several moments I did.

It was Grace.

I had forced myself to block out the pain and betrayal thick in my throat as I stared at her. She came into the light with no expression on her usually smiley face, her blonde locks and pale skin contrasting against the dark veil of the night. Grace had been my cousin, my friend, all those years and she was the one to do this to me. She wasn't the one holding the gun to my head but she might as well have been.

When she looked at me, with a flicker of guilt, I looked away. There was no way in hell I was going to even acknowledge her again. I didn't care what her reasons were but I couldn't think of one that would make me do to her what she did to me. It was unforgivable.

With Grace's stare on me and the arms around me, I didn't know it was possible but I felt even more uncomfortable, more agitated, like a beast stuck in a cage.

I heard some more new arrivals before I saw them, their footsteps louder than the river beneath us, taking over my concentration. I held my breath to anticipate who this could possibly be but it was worse than I could've imagined.

My real father, Michael, stepped into view, his face a picture of concern. My mother trailed behind, her expression a chilling mask, devoid of the worry that mirrored his own. Clarice remained as impeccably dressed as she usually was, appearing perfectly normal to the casual observer.

However, upon closer reflection, I could see a flicker of fear in her eyes and an unsettling obsession simmering beneath the surface, directed towards my father.

Mathew's body tightened when he saw them and I wondered why he'd bring them here. I still didn't feel close to my father but that didn't mean I wanted him caught up in Mathew's games. My discomfort at the situation grew, in line with the breeze that gained momentum, turning ferocious and sending wisps of hair all over my face.

And while the initial arrivals were unexpected and confusing, it was the subsequent wave of figures that truly unnerved me, a chilling dread gripping my very soul.

Thomas Thornton was the first person I saw but my heart thumped with fervour at the sight of the person behind him. Dorran.

Our eyes instantly locked and I saw the quickest emotion flash through them before it was instantly replaced by the usual stoic expression. My skin felt alive with Dorran here. I felt safer, more relaxed, more relieved but at the same time, I was horrified and utterly dismayed.

I was reminded of the conversation in Dorran's living room. The soul-binding promise between the three guys, that vowed to end this once and for all, to kill Mathew. But this all felt too sudden, too unexpected. Surely not now?