Lost & Bound (19 page)

Leila

It’s like I stepped into a dream. I had no
control over my body. I was hovering above, witnessing it all with no control
over anything. He was going to kill Callum. He was choking him. Callum was
going to die.

I can hear Callum’s voice, his sweet, calm
voice, but I can’t react. I can’t focus on anything but the still, lifeless
body before me.

“Leila, look at me,” Callum says again.

My eyes drift to him. I study him for a
moment, making sure he’s
really alive
. And then I meet
his eyes. From just one look, I remember. I trust.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I rush to his
side, kneeling down next to him.

I cradle his face in my hands. Blood covers
his beautiful features, but I don’t care, I wipe at the blood and kiss his
lips.

“Shhh, don’t cry,” he murmurs. “I need you
to cut the rope. Can you do that?”

I look to the rope and then to Callum’s
face.

“How?”

He gestures toward the knife. The same
knife I used to stab his father.

I shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“Hey, look at me,” he says, his voice
gentle, yet assertive. “You can do it, it’s the only way.”

I can’t do it. It’s too much. “I will go
upstairs, to the kitchen,” I say. I rush to the stairs, climbing two at a time,
adrenaline surging through my body.

“Leila,” Callum shouts from behind me. The
harshness of his voice tells me to stop. I turn to look at him. “You don’t know
who’s out there.” His voice is soft and calm once again. “The guard could be
there. He can’t see you like that.”

I look down at my bloodied hands and my
soiled clothes. Callum is right. I can’t be seen, but the alternative is so
much worse. I don’t want to look at his body, let alone go near it.

“You can do this Leila,” he tells me. “Once
you cut the rope I will take care of everything, I promise.”

I draw in a deep, steadying breath before
walking down the stairs. It takes me a few moments to pluck up the courage and
remove the knife from his back. The sound is worse than the act itself. It
reminds me of slicing a watermelon, drawing the knife from the flesh readying
for the next cut.

“Good girl,” Callum says. I drop the knife
to the floor, the handle slipping from my grasp. It lands at Callum’s feet and
he reaches for it. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he tells me.

He uses his right hand to saw away at the
fibers. The rope begins to unravel and within moments it snaps.

I hear the sound of the knife crashing to
the floor and then his arms are around me. He holds me and tells me I’m safe,
that nothing will hurt me ever again. I believe him.

I let his words wash over me, never wanting
him to let go. He holds me tight, breathing into my hair.

“You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“Cal—Callum, I stabbed him,” I
stutter.

“Don’t think about it,” he whispers into my
ear. “You did what you had to do.”

He lets go too soon. He walks over to his
father’s body, nudging him with his foot. There is no movement. His body is
lifeless. Callum kneels on the ground and places two fingers at the base of his
father’s neck. He waits.

“Is he…dead?” I ask.

I know the answer, but I’m not ready to
hear it.

“There’s no pulse,” Callum says. I look at
him in question, unable to process his words. “He’s dead.”

I immediately burst into tears. I’m a
murderer. I killed a man and for the rest of my life I will have to live with
that fact. Every. Single. Day.

“You had to, otherwise he would have killed
me,” he says softly.

I know it’s true, but it doesn’t take the
sting away.

Callum stares at his father’s face for a
moment before shaking his head. “Stupid man,” he mutters under his breath.

I stand with my fingers pressed against my
temples. “I will be put in prison.” It’s not a question. I will spend the rest
of my days in a new type of prison.

Callum walks over to me. “You didn’t do
this,” he says. He takes my face in his hands, locking his eyes with mine. “If
anyone asks, you didn’t do this.”

He wants me to lie?

“This was all me, Leila,” he says the words
with so much conviction that I almost believe him. “Say it. Tell me who stabbed
him.”

I did.

He cups
my face in his hands.

“Tell
me, Leila,” he demands as he looks into my eyes. “Tell me.”

“It was…you,” I test the words on my
tongue.

“Good.” He swiftly kisses my forehead and
then kneels down once more. He feels around in his father’s pockets, pulling
out a cell phone and scrolling through the contacts.

“I need to make a phone call,” he says, but
doesn’t elaborate as to whom he’s calling and I’m too afraid to ask. “Why don’t
you go wash up?” He gestures toward my blood stained clothes.

I nod my head and walk towards the
bathroom. Once I reach the recess of the shower I fall to the floor, huddling
in the safety of the hidden alcove. I wrap my arms around myself and begin to
sob quietly.

I cry because I’m scared about what will
happen next. I cry because I’m a murderer and that memory will remain with me
for the rest of my life. But most of all, I cry because it’s over. I cry
because I’m relieved.

William
Osborne Mathers

I didn’t choose her because she reminded me
of my wife, Emma. It wasn’t like that. She was just beautiful in her own way.
Her face had this innocence, like she’d never been touched. I liked that about
her. I liked the idea that I was the only one who could touch her.

For the most part she was a distraction.

It was the Italian who
introduced me to the auctions. Callum’s future father-in-law, can
you believe the irony? He had two girls for himself.
A
brunette and a blonde, both foreign, both beautiful.
I went to the
auction with no intention of bidding, but then I saw her, all doe-eyed and
innocent, like she didn’t belong there at all. I knew I had to have her.

I didn’t touch her for weeks after we
arrived home. It felt wrong, like I’d made a terrible mistake, but soon enough
I could no longer resist. The temptation was too much.

She was good in bed without even trying.
Her tight pussy, generous curves, and those cherry red nipples that always rose
to attention. She was everything I needed, and she barely fought back.

Once she painted her lips with the same
shade of lipstick, sprayed the same perfume on her neck, it was as if she was
still with me, as if she never left me, my one true love,
Emmy
.

When Callum came to the party, it struck me
as odd. Watching the security footage confirmed my suspicions. Upon his return,
he found her, and she found him. Their relationship progressed smoothly. It was
as if I was watching a bad Spanish novela play out in front of my eyes. The way
she looked at him made me sick, the way he looked at her even more so.

How could he have been so stupid? To think
I wouldn’t know, to think I wouldn’t care? I’ll be honest. I didn’t think they
would win, but I’d always felt invincible. Call me cocky, but I wasn’t
accustomed to losing.

I would have killed him if I had the
chance. As my hands tightened around his neck, watching the veins protruding
from his forehead, I could see the life draining from his eyes. I felt so
powerful in that moment, as if I was God and he was my pawn. I gave him life,
and I could take it away just as easy.

But then there was this feeling, a burning
pain deep in my chest. I felt something twist, the metal piercing something
vital, causing blood to spurt from my mouth.

That’s all I remember, all I care to
remember. At last I was put out of my misery, finally put to sleep. It was the
end of my journey and the beginning of my son’s.

He won.
 
He wasn’t the coward, he was the victor,
and she was his prize.

Callum

I flick through the phone and stop at his name.
My thumb hovers over the dial button. Once I hit the button there is no turning
back, I have to be sure that I’m doing the right thing. One look at Leila and
I’m decided, this is what I need to do.

I take a deep breath and press the call
button.

He answers on the third ring. I don’t say
hello, I don’t ask how he is, there’s no time for pleasantries. I jump straight
into it.

“It’s Callum. I need your help,” my voice
is steady, which surprises me.

The rest of the conversation is a blur.

Forty minutes later the doorbell rings. Luckily
the house is empty and there’s none of my father’s detail to stop what’s about
to happen. He must have sent the guards home because he was here. He thought he
was in control. He underestimated me—underestimated us. Now I’m in
control and I like it.

 
I open the door. My face reads unsure. I
know it. I’m still not convinced I can trust him.

“Callum,” my uncle greets me.

It’s not a warm address, but at the same
time, he doesn’t have an entourage of police waiting in the wings to cart me
off to jail.

“Follow me,” I say before turning on my
heel and heading for the basement.

When we reach the bottom of the stairs his
eyes lock with my father’s body before moving to my face.

“What have you done, boy?” His eyes are
filled with an anger I didn’t know he was capable of.

Maybe I don’t know this guy at all. Maybe
calling him was a huge mistake, one that will cost Leila and I greatly.

“It—It was…” I fumble with my words.

“It was
me
.” Leila
steps out from behind me, her lips set in a straight line, her face stoic and
her stance firm.

“No.” I step in front of Leila, pushing her
behind me as if my bruised and battered body will protect her from the rest of
the world. “It wasn’t her.” I shoot Leila a look of warning, but she offers me
the same indifferent expression.

“You two want to get your stories
straight?” Harry’s gaze holds mine, his jaw working overtime.

“I did it,” Leila says softly. “He was
going to kill Callum.”

Her arm wraps around my middle and I
instantly relax against her touch. I press a kiss to the crown of her head.
Breathing in the scent of her hair, realizing this might be the last time we’ll
be together.

Harry looks us both up and down. For the
first time he seems to notice the blood on my face, the bruises marring my skin
and the piece of rope still looped around my wrist.

His eyes shift up my body, finally resting
on my face. “What the fuck went on here?”

“You knew he held her here,” I say, my tone
is harsher than I initially intend. “You knew she was a prisoner and you did
nothing about it.”

Harry sighs, his face looks tired, his eyes
red for lack of sleep. “It’s complicated, Callum.”

“Please explain it to me. Explain how you
let this go on for three years?”

Harry looks shocked. “Three years?”

I nod my head, wrapping an arm around
Leila’s shoulders. “Three fucking years.”

“Callum, I had no idea.”

He turns to Leila, his face in a state of
shock. “I knew you lived here, but only for the last few months,” he says to
her. “He told me he saved you from a whore house in Richmond.”

The look on Harry’s face tells me what he’s
saying is true. He hadn’t realized the extent of my father’s obsession. He had
been to parties before, even enjoyed looking at the girls, but he never took
part, never forced
himself
on any of the girls. I have
no choice but to believe him.

I step forward, looking Harry straight in
the face.

“Can you fix this?” I point to the body, my
gaze holding his. “He was going to beat me to death. We both would have died
down here if we didn’t stop him.”

Harry draws in a breath. He rests his hands
on his hips as he assesses my father’s body. “Maybe it was a robbery gone
wrong.” He’s toying with the idea out loud.

I nod. “We could make it look real.”

He presses his lips together before
stepping into action. “Let’s get started then I’ll call it in.” He grabs me by
the elbow. “But Callum you can’t be here.”

“Of course not.” I shrug. “We’ll just break
some windows and stuff, then I’ll leave.”

“No,” he keeps his voice low. “You can’t
stay here, in Merling.” He points to Leila. “Not with her anyway.”

I understand what he’s saying and yet, I
don’t know if I can leave.

He reads the uncertainty on my face. “Stay
for the funeral, but after that you need to leave this town. For good.”

He doesn’t state the reason, but I suspect
he can’t wait to see the back of me. Maybe he doesn’t want me to inherit the
house and my father’s tainted money. Or perhaps he doesn’t want to see me every
day, a lasting reminder that his brother is dead.

“I’ll leave,” I agree.

“After the funeral,” he adds. “We need to
make it look realistic.”

He gives me one last glance. “There won’t
be any questions, I’ll make sure of it.”

I turn around and meet Leila’s gaze, her
eyes now brimming with tears. The unthinkable has happened and in a matter of
moments we will be walking out of here alive.

I pull her against me as I press a kiss to
her temple. “You’re free,” I whisper against her skin.

We’re
free.