Chapter 61: Into the Lion’s Den
TERESA’S P.O.V.
Two days. Two days of driving, surviving on vending machine snacks and lukewarm motel coffee that tasted like it had existential crises of its own. My back ached, my head pounded, and my only companions were two adorable, drooling bundles of joy in the backseat. Not that they cared about my misery—they were either peacefully snoring or giggling at some secret twin language joke I’d never understand.
I leaned forward, squinting at the road as if it could magically solve my problems. How had my life come to this? Oh, right—Adrian. That impossibly charming, infuriatingly overprotective vampire who had kept me under lock and key for two whole years. Two years without a single trip to the mall or even the joy of fumbling with self-checkout machines. Forget freedom; I wasn’t even trusted with cash. Everything I needed was handed to me on a silver platter—or sometimes an actual silver platter because Adrian had standards.
At first, before the scary night I had caught him feeding, it felt like a fairytale. Who doesn’t want to be pampered in a literal castle by a devastatingly handsome man who seems to know your favorite dessert before you do? But the gloss wore off quickly. I wasn’t a princess—I was a prized bird in a gilded cage, preened and displayed but never allowed to fly. And also, I was probably a reserved meal when the fondness he had for me finally cleared.
And now? Here I was, flying solo for the first time, spending the little money I had stashed away. Money I had planned to use for baby supplies before Adrian swept in and bought everything. Seriously, the man bought four cribs. Who buys four cribs? Was he planning for a sleepover I didn’t know about?
The twins stirred in their seats, their sweet voices breaking through my spiraling thoughts.
"Papa," Mai my daughter chirped sleepily, her tiny mouth curling into an impish grin.
"Not Papa," I muttered, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. Their faces lit up with unfiltered joy, completely unaware of the chaos unraveling in my head. "We’re going somewhere safe away from the scary man."
They didn’t care. They just giggled, probably imagining some grand adventure. Meanwhile, I was barely holding it together.
The word "Papa" lingered like a pesky mosquito, buzzing around my brain and stinging me with guilt. Adrian adored them—he’d moved mountains for them. He was the type of doting "Papa" who’d read them bedtime stories, only to end up buying out an entire bookstore because he thought they’d "outgrow the selection too quickly." But that devotion came with chains, invisible, blood sucking ones that threatened to choke the life out of me.
I knew he’d come for us. Adrian wasn’t the type to give up, especially not on his precious twins—or me. The man could be described in many ways—kind, romantic, charming—but "obsessive" should be tattooed across his forehead. I wouldn’t put it past him to appear at the motel door with a bouquet in one hand and a reinforced cage in the other, claiming it was "for our safety."