I am absolutely thrilled to be writing this novel. 

Chapter Four 

Not only have I never been on a private jet before, I've never been on a plane. The moment we took off I was gripping my seat so hard my hands began to get numb, and I was certain my face was pale.

There were several rows of seats in the jet, and luckily I managed to sit in a row further down than the row Virtus sat in, so for the next hour ride to New York, I was free to slightly breathe.

I could still see Virtus from where he sat. Our seats were facing each other, and if he were to look up from the book he was reading, he'd see me too, but at least I wasn't so close to him that he could hear every sound I made.

I was kind of scared to make any noise around him. Anything could set him off.

The longer I sat in the uncomfortably hard seats, the more my shoulder began to hurt. We were almost landed when it began to throb to the point of taking control of my senses.

I could hear my heartbeat. My stomach was tense with nausea. I've never had a wound hurt this bad, and I've broken my finger once.

I suck in an pained breath as I shift my body, every movement caused a sharp pain down my arm. I tried to touch my shoulder, but the slightest bit of pressure on it caused me to wince. 

I accidentally glance up from my shoulder only to make eye-contact with Virtus. He was staring at me with narrowed eyes, and I quickly looked away.

Why the hell did he have to look at me like that? Did he think I was going to jump off the jet? Surely it wasn't because I was being too loud? I was barely making a noise.

I kept my gaze out the window, and tried to admire the New York scenery. The city was much larder than I had anticipated, which was strange since I've seen plenty of shots of it on television.

If Virtus lived in DC, and everything about his job was located in D.C., why did he have to come to New York City? And why did he hire me to follow him without even finding out who I was? Does he care if I'm who I say I am? 

The jet landed, on a private runway, which was nice to not have any mass crowds bombarding us as we exit. 

I wordlessly follow him out of the jet, and into another waiting vehicle. If my shoulder didn't hurt so bad, I may even be a little excited to experience New York City. My family didn't care for travel, and I didn't think I did either until now.

It was a vastly different atmosphere than in Washington D.C., the whole expanse of the industrial jungle plastered me in a state of awe.

The sun was nearly set now, and all the lights of the buildings and cars were all each separate shouts of adventure, and I was eager to see more despite the man I was journeying with.

"You look as though you've never seen a city before."

His remark startles me. Embarrassed I realized I was leaning against the car window, trying to see everything surrounding us all at once. I sit back in my seat, restraining myself from that childlike wonder that I didn't notice I had indulged in. For trying to appear as a man, I sure was bad at acting like one. "It's nothing like back at home."

"Where is home to you?"

I dare to glance at him, "D.C."

"Trinity is located in California, did you enjoy it there?" Why was he asking me these things? 

"Not really." I lied. I've never been to California. "Never was a fan of hot weather."

"Does your family live in D.C.?"

"Yes."

"When have you last seen them?"

"I was eighteen."

"You have any siblings?"

"A brother." I admitted, and then thought maybe I shouldn't tell him that.

"What's his name?"

"Yoel."

"Are you Jewish?"

"My mother's side." He's interrogating me again. It is extremely uncomfortable. I feel his eyes burning on me, and I'm too much of a coward to look up at him again.

There is something so off-putting about his glare. One moment he's yelling at me, the next he's refusing to speak, and the next he's interrogating me like I committed some type of crime.

I can't figure him out.

He's silent for a long moment, and then surprises me by saying, "You may ask me a question, only one." He leaned back in his seat, his book dropping to his lap, "Make it count, intern."

My eyes widen, and it takes all the courage I can muster to remove my gaze from the floor, back to him. One question? I have about a thousand of them. 

Why are we in New York? Why did you hire me specifically? Why must I stay by your side at every moment? Why don't you wear the traditional Bone Cutter attire in public? 

Why did you kill my cousin?

My eyes drop to the book on his lap. The cover of Flowers For Algernon displays itself directly in my view.

I swallow hard, and nod to the beat up copy with brown pages, "The book," I say, clearing my throat, "I've never read it. Is it good?"

I think this surprises him, because his composed voice doesn't mask the airy shock the question provided, "That's the question you chose?"

No, but I'm too scared to ask anything else.

I simply nod.

He stares at me for the longest moment that my skin begins to itch, and I awkwardly shift against the door. At first I don't think he's going to respond to my question, but then, it's his turn to surprise me.

His voice is quieter as he finally answers, "Yes, it's good."

We don't speak for the duration of the ride. I'm grateful for that.

The car stops in front of a highly guarded building.  There were men standing watch everywhere, it was a bit daunting to look at.

Virtus gets out of the car, and I follow him. He strides up to the building, and I attempt to match his pace but his legs are so damn long.

To my horror, he chooses not to take the elevator to whichever floor we were going. Instead, he picks the stairs, which, confirmed that matching his pace was not something I'd ever be able to do.

He moves so easily up the steep steps, and I'm left struggling to keep up behind him.

Several times he has to stop and wait for me, and I try not to dwell on the humiliation of it.

When we finally reach the floor, floor thirty-two, which I believe was the top fucking floor, he opened the door, and beckoned me in. 

As I moved into the door, I was greeted with one of the most incredible views I've ever seen.

"Holy shit." I breathe, the words falling out of my mouth before I can stop them. It was an extremely large apartment. The colors gold and white encased the room like a present. That wasn't the memorable part.

The memorable part was the view. Giant windows from the floor to the ceiling looked out at the city, the lights all glistening like jewels, I realized I could stare out the window for hours.

Virtus shrugged off his jacket, and threw it on the couch. "Come on," He says, "I'll show you where we sleep."

I'm almost too hypnotized by the scenery to notice he said the words 'we sleep'. Almost.

I hesitantly follow him into another large room, with yet another view. There is a bed, and beside it, against the wall was a large couch. 

"We sleep here."

I can't stop myself from asking, "We?"

"Yes." He says, "We."

I must have a strange look on my face, because his eyes narrow, "Something wrong with that?"

"N-No, nope. It'll do just fine." I feign a small smile, and walk over to the couch. Admittedly, the couch was pretty soft, a lot softer than my bed even. 

Still, the idea of sleeping in the same room as The Bone Cutter sent a chill up my spine.

What the hell was his reasoning for all of this? I can't dress alone and now I can't sleep alone? Is this a joke?

He threw a blanket at me, and I quietly thank him, I watch him remove his boots, and climb into his own bed.

That's it? We were just going to go to bed? 

And then I watch him pull out his book, and it made more sense.

Of course. I was to sit here silently, while he read the night away. 

Irritated, I kick my own shoes off and lay down on the couch that probably cost as much as my parents' home.

The blanket was heavy on my sore body. The beating I endured from Alan felt like it happened months ago, and yet, it all occurred today.

This morning, I was drinking coffee, and crying over my cut hair back while my parents still slept.

Now I'm in a luxurious apartment in New York City, where The Bone Cutter was to sleep only feet away from me.

I gripped a fist full of the blanket, the weight of everything that happened today finally crashing down all at once. The more I dwelled on everything, the more upset I became.

It's not making any fucking sense.

I steal a glance at Virtus, who was engrossed in his novel. 

My family would never believe any of this. If it wasn't happening to me, I wouldn't believe it either.

My heart sunk at the thought of my parents. Right. I need to find a way to get to a payphone. I need to call them. They were all most likely worried sick at my abrupt disappearance.

I thought about them calling the police. If they report me missing will my photo be in the newspaper? 

The air gets trapped in my throat, what if Virtus sees?

I need to call them. Tonight. But how do I sneak out without him noticing?

I decided to wait until he fell asleep, and risk it. If he finds out I'm gone, he might kill me. If he finds out I'm a girl and that I've lied to him about my entire life, he'll definitely kill me.

I swallow, hard. Waiting was the worst part. 

I don't know how long he sat in total silence. The only noise to be heard was the soft flipping of a page. 

He read for what felt like hours, but I didn't have a watch to tell the time.

Finally, he turned the light off, and I tried to only focus on the pain in my arm, and not the terrifying task of escaping that laid before me.

I counted my heartbeat. I could feel the blood pulsating in my shoulder. I made it up to two-thousands beats before risking another glance at Virtus.

He was still, surely he'd be asleep by now, right?

I slowly sit up, my eyes locked on the murderer before me. He didn't move at the sound of me pushing the blanket off, nor did he during my slow descent off the couch.

I don't bother putting my shoes on, the noise of my heavy shoes against the hardwood flooring would be too loud.

I exit the room, and I wait for several painful seconds.

Nothing.

I don't hesitate. I leave through the door we entered in, and fly down the multiple staircases.

I have to hurry.

My bare feet against the cement steps was cold, and a shiver ran all throughout my body, I wasn't sure if it was my anxiety making me shake, or the cold of the night.

Breathless, I make it to the first floor, and nod at the guards standing at the door. They don't look phased at my heavy breathing, or my shoeless feet. I walk up to them, "Do you know where the nearest payphone is?"

One of them shrugs, his New York accent thick and kind of difficult to interpret. "Down the street, left corner."

"Thank you." I run. My shoulder screaming at me to slow down, and my lungs begging for air, but I need to get back before Virtus finds me missing.

I don't want to know what he'd do to me if he sees I've clearly disobeyed.

I see the payphone. My right hand digs into my pocket, fishing for a dime as I run. I insert the tiny coin into the payphone slot, and dial my parents' home number.

Yoel, my brother, is the first to answer. "Hello?"

"Yoel!" I shout, "It's me, Urielle."

"Urielle?" He exhales loudly, "Holy shit mom and dad have been freaking out."

I ignore him, "I don't have time to explain, but I'm fine, do not let them call the police."

He seems wary, "Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're afraid."

"No." I'm trying to calm my tone, "No, listen, I'm in New York. I can't explain right now, I'll try to call some other time. I'm going to be here for a few weeks. I promise this will make sense, I just need you to make sure mom and dad understand."

"You're in New York? Why are you in New York?" He paused, "Mom wants to talk to you."

"No! I don't have time. I have to get back, I'm not supposed to be out here right now."

"Uri." He says, "You're kind of freaking me out."

"Please trust me, Yoel." My desperation and exhaustion was so hard to hide, "Don't let them call the police."

"That's kind of something a kidnapped person would say."

"Damn it, you idiot, just do as I say." I don't want to tell him that my life may literally be on the line if they did call the police, but it was on the tip of my tongue.

"Fine, fine. You better not get mad at me though if you are being held hostage and they kill you because we didn't get the police involved."

I can't help but roll my eyes, "I have to go."

"Uhh, okay-" I hang up. Take several deep breaths, and attempting to stretch out my stiff shoulder, I again, run.

I run faster back. My adrenaline fueling my desperation. I move up the stairs two steps at a time. My heart is hammering against my ribcage.

Please, God, don't let him be awake.

I make it to the thirty-second floor, and slowly ease open the door to the apartment. 

I slip through the tiny crack in the door, and tiptoe back to the bedroom. Except, I don't make it into the bedroom, because there are three guards in the living room, and Virtus is among them, staring at me as if I committed the worst sin known to man. I've never seen such ice in a person's gaze before. 

"Where the fucking hell did you go?"