Beyond His Control (Dark Romance Suspense) (His Duet Book 2)

When I woke up in the middle of the night, I was already back in my bed. The hood on my head and the rope around my wrists had already vanished.

It was as though nothing had ever happened.

As though I’d never left this place to begin with.

But I remember.

How many days have passed since I’ve come back?

How much have I missed?

I gaze outside at the people going about their day, blissfully unaware of what has transpired in this community. I saw freedom … and they stripped it away from me once again.

My nails dig into the wood. I won’t let this go unpunished. Not anymore.

I put on the slippers underneath my bed and put on a robe, lifting it over my head so I can partially hide myself. I know it’s not much, but anything will do right now. I slide to the door and listen. I don’t hear any voices, coughing, or breathing. Are the guards even there?

I slightly open my bedroom door and peek outside. No one’s there. They must’ve stationed the guards outside the temple doors.

I rush across the hallways toward Noah’s room. Right as I’m about to knock, I pause. Why am I even going to him? He’s the one who got me back here in the first place. He can’t do anything for me now.

Without hesitation, I retract my hand and turn around. I walk into the opposite direction and gaze at the numbers on the doors, trying to make sense of it. I don’t want to just waltz inside and risk getting caught. But how do I know which room to enter?

Suddenly, I hear beeping.

I stop in my tracks and listen.

Every other second, a device bleeps.

I lean in and place my ear against the door. It’s so quiet in this house that you could hear a pin drop. Everyone’s sleeping … but not me … and certainly not whatever’s behind this door.

It sounds like a computer. But I thought they didn’t use technology here?

Someone coughs, and I jolt back in shock.

There’s definitely someone in there.

A moan follows. It’s a woman, and it sounds like my mother.

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I push down the handle and nudge the door open.

It’s a giant room with not much furniture but definitely more than I’ve seen in any other room in the community. In the corner, there’s a bed with a machine next to it that has all kinds of wires coming out of it, and they’re attached to a woman lying in the bed.

“Mother,” I whisper, as I step inside.

Her eyes spring open.

The air is knocked out of my chest.

The door closes behind me. Our eyes connect, and mine immediately tear up.

“Natalie …” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I don’t care if anyone finds out. I’m going to hug my mother.

My body falls onto hers as I wrap my arms around her. “You’re alive,” I mutter, but I still can’t believe it’s true. “I thought you were dead. All this time, I thought you’d sacrificed yourself for me.” Every word is painful to say, but I say them anyway, because I want her to know what her actions mean to me. “You gave me a chance at life. At freedom. And I can’t ever repay you for that.”

“Natalie …” she whispers, and she pets my hair. Her hand feels so familiar, and memories flush back in of her doing my hair and putting on my clothes, of cooking food together and running around in the gardens outside.

Back when we were still carefree.

When I didn’t know about the cruelty of this world.

I turn my head and look up at her face. But it’s not the same familiar face I expected it to be. Her skin is marred by fire, red blotches and stains everywhere, and all that’s left is tough scar tissue.

Tears flow down my cheeks. “Momma …” I say. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She has to be in so much pain, and it’s all because of me.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, reaching for me with a hand that’s even more scarred.

I grab her hand and gently caress it. “You have so many wounds.”

“The fire was more intense than I expected,” she says.

I lick my lips, feeling guilty for what my own mother had to go through for me. “Why did you do it?”

“Oh, honey …” Now the tears well up in her eyes too, and she reaches for my face. “I did what any mother would have done to save her child.”

I smile through the tears, through the pain that stabs my heart and slices it into two. And I lean in to her, so our foreheads collide softly, and our tears meld into one. Seconds feel like hours as I stay here and bask in her absolute suffering. The penalty she paid for my freedom is something no one should ever have to endure.

“I’m sorry … I tried. I tried so hard to escape them,” I say.

“I know you did, honey. Your father couldn’t stop talking about it … like it was a trophy hunt to him,” she says, her voice crackling with pain. “He’s persistent. If I’d known he’d come after you himself, I would’ve pulled him with me into the fire.”

A smile appears on her cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that for me. Not any of it.”

“But I did. And I would’ve done it again if it meant keeping you from harm,” she says, breaking my heart into tiny little pieces.

“You’re the best mother a girl could ever wish for,” I reply. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep them at bay. That I got caught again.” I touch her scarred skin which feels rubbery and out of place, almost like a mask. “It’s because of me you’re this way now.”

She grabs my hand and forces me to stop. “It was my choice, Natalie. Mine alone to make.”

I swallow. “Are you in pain?”

She closes her eyes, but her nostrils flare. “A little.” She coughs, and her whole face cringes. She’s lying to protect me.

The beeping machine beeps a little louder, and I look at it for a second. It’s definitely a machine that keeps track of her heart rate.

“Your father brought it with him from his trip. No technology allowed unless you’re a patriarch or his wife.” She winks.

Even after so much pain, there’s still an equal amount of sass in her left, and I can’t help but feel empowered by it.

And I grab her hand and squeeze. “I promise, I will make them suffer for this.”

She cocks her head and nods. “I know you will, honey. You and Noah can do this together.”

I frown. “What? I thought you hated him?”

But then she leans up, grabs my hand, and says, “He saved me.”

“What do you mean? How?” I mutter. “I don’t understand.”

The machine bleeps faster and louder, but she completely ignores it. “He ran into the burning hut and pulled me out.”

My eyes widen.

The red marks on his shoulder, and the way he brushed it off as if it was nothing … they were from the fire?

“He risked his life to save me,” she says. “And now you must do your part.”

I swallow hard. Noah saved my mother even though he had no reason to. She ruined his plans, but he still pulled her from the fire, despite the fact that I was already long gone.

Maybe he isn’t the bad guy after all.

Suddenly, someone rummages at the door, and I immediately look up and turn my head in shock.

“Quick, you have to go!” my mother whispers. “If they find you here, they’ll lock you up.”

Too late.

The door bursts open.

Two guards step inside … along with Patrick.

“Well, well … what a surprise,” he says, and he flicks his fingers.

The guards immediately restrain me.

“What is this? Get your hands off me!” I snap.

“No, we’ve been ordered by the president to keep a close watch on your behavior,” Patrick says. “Unfortunately, someone didn’t pay attention to the cameras for a second and didn’t see you leave your room.” He raises his brow at one of the elders.

“I apologize, patriarch,” the guy says. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.” Patrick focuses his attention on me. “I hope you got what you wanted.”

“Leave me alone,” I say. “She’s my mother, for God’s sake. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“She needs to rest,” he says, pointing at the machines. “Which obviously won’t work with you breathing down her neck.”

“I haven’t seen her in so long,” my mother says.

“And you won’t for the time being,” Patrick replies.

My eyes widen, but the guards immediately pull me away from her before I have the chance to hug her one last time. “No! Let me go! I need to talk to her!”

“She’ll be fine. She’s alive,” he says.

“No thanks to you!” I hiss. “How dare you butt into our conversation? We’re matriarchs!”

“And you’re not above the rules that we patriarchs make,” he says as a wicked smile spreads on his lips.

As the guards drag me closer to the door, to him, he makes them stop in their tracks, and he grabs my face with two fingers, clutching my chin harshly. “You’ll talk again soon … once you’ve all learned not to cross us.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Tell me the truth. Who told the president about me? It wasn’t Noah, was it?”

The smile that was on his face deepens, and it hurts so much that I spit at him.

“You bastard. It was you. You told him,” I say, and I jerk free to try to hit him.

He grabs my wrist before the hit lands. “You shouldn’t have told me about the scarf. You thought I would forget after our little talk in the library? Not a chance. This was all on you, Natalie. You played the wrong man.”

He cocks his head, and the men continue to drag me away.

“You’re despicable,” I hiss through my teeth as I glance at him over my shoulder, but he shrugs it off like it’s no big deal.

Asshole.

The last thing I see are her wistful eyes before the doors close in front of me.

And I wonder if I’ll ever be allowed to speak to her again.