CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
princess.

Angeline's head burned, along with her wrists and her ankles. A warm liquid was slowly gliding down the side of her head, the crimson colour staining her hair and matting it to her cheek slightly. She moved to touch the injury, grunting when she realised that her hands were tied to the chair she was sat in.

Her neck hurt from hanging back whilst she had been unconscious, a painful creak echoing in her ears when she raised it to look around the room. She was in the meeting room and the door was open, revealing all the way down the empty hall. The house was deadly silent until she heard footsteps.

The heavy boots coming up the staircase could have belonged to anyone-- her father, Elliot, Renolds, Winston, or Mitch. Angeline prayed it was the youngest of them all, however, when the head of security came into view, she realised she wasn't lucky enough to have Mitch saving her anytime soon.

"You're awake," Renolds said as he entered the room.

"Yeah, no fucking shit," Angeline scoffed, glaring up at him. "Did you really have to hit me over the head?"

"You stabbed me in the stomach with a pair of scissors, shot eight staplers into my left arm and fractured my kneecap," Renolds deadpanned, scowling when he saw the faint proud smile that crossed the teenage girl's lips.

"Okay, but head injuries are way more life-threatening," Angeline shrugged. "And I did just find out that my family are fucking terrorists!"

Renolds huffed. "Your father is on his way home right now and trust me, if you think you've seen him mad, then this is a whole other level of furious."

Fear pricked in the teenage girl, the emotion flashing across her face. "What's he gonna do?"

"Let's just say nobody can know about his plans," Renolds smirked. "And you, Angeline, are just about the biggest blabbermouth he knows."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

She flung her head back and groaned loudly, the noise causing her sensitive head to ache even more. Her dainty fingers were trying to fiddle with the rope wrapped around her wrists behind the chair, except it was no use. Angeline could barely bend her wrist high enough to skim the rough material and she knew even if she could reach it, there was no way she'd be able to get out of it. Angeline silently shifted her ankles around, seeing if she could loosen the ropes there. It was no use-- Renolds clearly knew what he was doing when he tied the knots up.

For a few minutes, Renolds was on the device that all security members had, typing away on it. He was most likely updating Mr Lewis that Angeline had woken up, which was not good. She assumed he was on his way, but if he wasn't and now he knew she was conscious, he might be.

"Fuck!" Renolds suddenly hissed as he kept hitting a button.

Angeline craned her neck, managing to see just about what he was doing. On the tablet, there was security footage of the front gate that was open, a figure marching up the driveway. She couldn't quite decide who it was, but Angeline assumed he had somehow granted himself access, despite Renolds pressing the button to keep the gates closed.

"Who is it?" She asked, not expecting an answer.

The front door slamming open downstairs made the both of them jump and Renolds quickly whipped the pistol out from around his waist, making Angeline's brown eyes widen. She kept silent, watching as he headed out of the meeting room and down the stairs.

"Fuck," she whispered, scrambling even harder to get the ropes to give way.

Everything was silent apart from her own heavy breathing and the scraping of the chair when a gunshot went off downstairs. Angeline whimpered as several more shots followed. She could hear Renolds yelling out in pain, followed by one more shot and then silence.

Her first suspicion was that it was the man that had turned up to the house before. Mitch had said that he was her father's work competition, and that especially terrified her now that she knew what kind of work her dad was doing. Maybe she was better off being killed by her dad than the stranger, at least her dad would probably just slide her a few pills rather than a bullet to the head.

When the footsteps started to pace up the stairs, Angeline started to say goodbye to everybody she loved in her head. It was a surprisingly short list-- just Ciara, Paige, and her mother. She gave a small goodbye to Mitch too, mentally cursing that she never got to at least kiss him before she died.

Suddenly, the door to the meeting room burst open and Angeline screamed, flinching back with her eyes scrunched closed.

"Don't shoot, I'm pregnant!" She blurted.

When nothing came, Angeline hesitantly opened her eyes and was more than relieved to see that it was Mitch stood there. He lowered the gun in his hand and stared at her with confusion written across his face, lowering to untie her ankles anyway.

"I- Oh my God, you have no idea how glad I am you're here," Angeline admitted, her voice thick with emotion as she watched him grab a knife from around his hip.

"I have some idea," Mitch muttered, cutting at the ropes as quick as he could. "We need to get out of here in less than twelve minutes. Once you're out of this, you go to your room, you grab everything you can in a duffel bag, and that does not mean your laptop or whatever else technology you might have. Okay?"

Angeline was shaking from fear but forced herself to nod anyway. "O-Okay."

There were so many questions swarming her inside her head. She assumed that Mitch obviously wasn't working with her father at this point, but did he know what they were doing this entire time? Was he some sort of spy that was trying to stop them?

When he finally got her wrists free, his large palm squeezed on her shoulder and Angeline stood up quickly, regretting it when her head felt slightly dizzy. She ignored the feeling and staggered out of the room and down the hall, all the way to her bedroom.

The first thing she did was fling open her closet and grab a duffel bag, yanking a handful of clothes down off their hooks without even checking. She threw in a couple of bras and some underwear and grabbed the photo frame by the side of her bed that had a picture of herself and Ciara inside it.

She got the impression from Mitch's urgency that she would not be coming back here anytime soon. Angeline's heart was racing and she was all too aware of the minutes slipping away as she packed away a few other necessities before Mitch barged into the room.

"We have to go. Now," he commanded, the pistol still raised in his hand.

Angeline swallowed back her fear and followed after him, her grip on the duffel bag tight. Mitch lead them all the way down to the foyer and the brunette froze in her tracks at the sight of blood splattered across the pristine walls. Slumped in the corner was the dead body of Renolds, a bullet hole right in the centre of his head.

"Oh my God!" Angeline cried, her knees nearly buckling beneath her.

"Hey!" Mitch yelled, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the front door. "Hey, don't look at that shit, okay? And don't stop like that again."

His voice was underwater in her head and Angeline couldn't quite decide whether it was because she was literally on the verge of a panic attack or because she had been hit around the head. Perhaps it was a mixture of the two, but right now it didn't matter. She just had to listen to what Mitch was saying and follow his quick steps to the car.

It wasn't a car that Angeline recognised and it definitely didn't belong to her father. It was black and the windows were tinted so dark she couldn't see inside at all. Mitch yanked the bag from her hands and tossed it into the trunk before climbing into the driver's side. Angeline was on the passenger side, putting on her seatbelt with trembling hands.

"Wha- What's going on?" Angeline whispered shakily as he started to peel out of the driveway and through the open gates.

She glanced back behind her at the house that she had been living in for three or four years now. It was so huge and grand, but it had never really felt like a home to her. Except now, as she drove away with no intentions of ever coming back, she wished things were how they were a week ago-- when she was oblivious to her father's evil plans.

"I can explain later," Mitch said, hazel eyes focused on the road. "Let me drive."

Angeline's heart was thumping unsteadily and she raised her hand to rest on her chest, willing it to calm down. She closed her eyes and felt as the hot tears escaped past her shut lids, trailing down her cheeks and neck.

A wave of sudden anger washed over her. Her life had just been flipped upside down and Mitch knew it was going to happen, but now he wasn't willing to answer her questions. Her father and her brother were terrorists, her 'friend' had drugged her, Mitch had just murdered somebody, she'd just nearly been shot and hit around the head with a gun...

It was weird to think yesterday she was playing dodgeball in the gym, her biggest concern being how she was going to wipe the cocky smirk off of Grace's smug face.

"I want to know now," Angeline swallowed, wiping at her tears roughly. "Wh- What the hell was those letters in my dad's office? Were they real?"

Mitch practically growled under his breath as they made it onto the highway. It was obvious he was a little stressed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and his jaw clenched, nose slightly scrunched as he blew air out of it.

"Angeline, not now," Mitch demanded.

"Mitch--"

"I said not now, Angeline!" He suddenly yelled, causing the girl to flinch.

She visibly sagged in her seat, her bottom lip trembling as she folded her arms and gulped. With her pounding head and her broken heart, Angeline leant against the window of the car and tried to drift off to sleep, accepting whatever fate Mitch was about to lead her into.

...

"Angeline."

Angeline hummed, eyes slowly flickering open as she woke up. It took her a few moments to realise that she was in the passenger seat of Mitch's car and remember what had happened. She blinked as she sat up, clicking her neck in the process. Mitch was staring at her from the driver's seat and she realised they were parked in a parking lot.

"We're stopping for five. I need to take a look at your head," Mitch spoke, pressing the button of her seat belt so it came undone and leaving.

Angeline stayed in her spot for a second, staring at where he had just been as she tried to process her jumbled thoughts. Deciding against pissing Mitch off more than she did earlier, Angeline pulled the belt from around her and climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind her.

Only then did she realise that night had fallen, so she must have been asleep for a good few hours. She was surprised that she was able to sleep at all after seeing the hole through Renolds head and finding out the truth about her family. The night air was cool on her hot skin, brushing through her long dark hair and making her feel a little better.

"Wait by the door, I'll get the key to the restroom," Mitch muttered.

Angeline did as she was told, wondering why she had to stay outside until she realised she must look like a mess. When she woke up tied to the chair she could feel the blood trickling down her face so she assumed that it must have dried to her skin. She played with the hem of her shirt, seeing a spot of blood on the bottom of it-- whether it was hers or Renolds, she did not know.

"Got it," Mitch said, lifting the key up to her as he walked around the side of the gas station.

Once he unlocked the door, Angeline entered first and grimaced at the state of the restroom. She always avoided public bathrooms if possible, even the ones at school, and this was why. It looked like nobody had cleaned it in a month, but at least the light worked when Mitch flicked it on.

"Sit on the counter top," he said, grabbing something out of the duffel bag that she only just realised had been flung over his shoulder.

Angeline's face scrunched up. "That's gross--"

"Okay, princess, I get that this is kind of inconvenient for you, but it's the best I can do right now, okay?" Mitch scowled. "I didn't plan for you to go snooping through things. Remember what I told you?"

The brunette fell silent at his words.

"I told you to stay out of what you don't understand, but you went looking anyway," Mitch snapped. "And look at where it lands us. I had to shoot that bastard Renolds because--"

"I did not tell you to murder Renolds," Angeline cut him off before he could finish his sentence, her eyes burning with hot tears. "Do not finish that sentence, Mitch-- if that's even your real name."

Mitch clenched his jaw and stared her directly in the eye. It looked like he was debating what to say next and he just settled on shaking his head.

"Just sit on the counter, Angeline," he spoke much calmer than before. "Please, just do what I say."

The brunette hesitated before releasing an exaggerated sigh. She turned and grabbed a hold of the counter, pulling herself up so that she was sat in between the two sinks. At least Mitch had made her pack clothes so she could change when she got out if she needed.

Being called a princess had really rubbed her the wrong way, a small frown on her face as she folded her arms across her chest, watching Mitch start to pull out bandaids and rubbing alcohol. Her father always told her that she was a dramatic crybaby, and Mitch's words had mirrored it eerily.

Once he had some of the rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad, Mitch moved to stand in between Angeline's legs. She probably would have blushed at the action if she wasn't slightly annoyed with the way he had been brushing her off for the past few hours. She nearly wanted to push him away and just do it herself.

"This is gonna hurt a little bit, okay?" Mitch mumbled quietly, hazel eyes locking with hers as if to ask for consent to touch her.

Angeline gave a small nod and with that, he pressed the cotton pad to the cut on the side of her forehead. Her eyes snapped shut and she inhaled sharply, one of her hands snapping out to grab his shoulder. Mitch barely reacted as she squeezed it, each squeeze growing harder with each swipe of the cotton on her skin.

"Okay, it's over now," he said, dumping the cotton pad beside them.

Angeline looked down and realised that it was soaked in blood, her stomach feeling slightly queasy at the sight. She released Mitch's shoulder and placed her dainty hands in her lap, watching as he peeled a plaster out that matched her skin tone. He adjusted it so that it sat above the wound, pressing down.

"I don't think it's deep enough for stitches," Mitch said, wiping at the rest of her skin with more water and cotton wall, getting rid of all of the dried blood caking her face. "You're not talking to me," he realised.

Angeline didn't know how to reply. She blinked as she watched him finally grab all of the rubbish and toss it into the bin beneath the sinks. Her teeth chewed down on her bottom lip.

"Fine by me," Mitch spoke somewhat bitterly after he'd tossed the duffel bag over his shoulder. "Makes my job a whole lot easier if you don't."

As he left the restroom, Angeline knew he was silently demanding that she followed behind him. She wished she could take off in the direction and go straight back to Ciara, but she had a feeling that the only thing stopping her father from finding her and killing her for what she now knew was Mitch himself.

So it looked like it was going to be just the two of them for a while.

...
im gonna be really busy for the next week doing college essays and shit, so you might not get another update for a little while :(

thanks for reading tho! :)

dyIansobrien