Trapped in his End Game (Series)

Where should I go?

What should I do?

My feet wander the streets of New York, crunching over the hard-packed snow as I stare around my surroundings, bewildered. Where else is there to go, but home?

I suspect my parents are already there, probably worried sick. Thinking of them brings along a fresh wave of misery. I can’t face them and explain everything that happened. They would never understand.

I told him I loved him, and he returned the favor by throwing me out into the street. For weeks I knew nothing but him. He brought me to highs I never knew existed and inflicted pain on me. He broke me down until I couldn’t dream of living without him. Everything was so that I’d retract the testimony and those scumbags would get off the hook. I would’ve done it for him.

He doesn’t feel the same.

He never will.

I feel like a bird without wings. The world doesn’t make sense anymore. He bound me so tightly to him that I couldn’t see a future without him. Now he wants me to fend for myself?

And how am I supposed to get over this pain that’s racking my soul? I’m beyond tears. He reached in and tore out all my guts. I can’t even walk with a straight back, because everything feels like it’s caving in.

Why do I love him?

I ask myself that because he’s right. It’s an important fucking question, but I just can’t answer it. I just know that I need him.

Before him, there was nothing but darkness clouding my future. No end in sight. I hated my life.

Then he kidnapped me, and I was so pissed off. Most of the anger was directed toward myself. I was angry with myself for the choices I’d made that led me in that basement. My parents deserve a little bit of that blame, too.

Tommy fucked the anger out of me. He took my pride and crushed it into dust. Then I learned to trust in him completely, to surrender myself, to look at him for comfort.

My eyes burn.

Why would he say such terrible things to me?

Hardly realizing where I’m going, I bump into someone. A woman, from a brief look at her long blonde hair. She’s dressed in a wool coat.

“Sorry,” I whisper into the air, not even bothering to meet her gaze. I know it’s rude, but I don’t fucking care. There’s a lot on my mind. Still, I glance over my shoulder to look at a young, pretty face that I recognize. A face that makes my skin ice-cold.

“Melanie.”

She grabs my shoulders before I can twist away, and surprisingly, she pulls me into a hug.

“Where have you been? I’ve been so worried.”

Her voice cracks as she holds me to her chest. My arms are pinned to my sides as Michelle hugs me, discomfort billowing inside my head until I finally place both palms on her shoulders and shove her-hard.

Michelle falls backward with a cry and lands hard on the sidewalk, the dirty snow melting into her wool coat.

“Don’t touch me.”

She springs to her feet, a hurt look souring her face. “Melanie, I’m so sorry for what happened at the motel-I know you were taken-”

“You were more worried about your career than you were about me. You’re so full of shit.”

“That’s not true. I was trying to help you.”

“Help me?” I repeat in outrage. “You better get away from me before I smash my fist into your mouth.”

Looking taken aback, she raises her palms. “Melanie, you need to come in.”

I turn my back on her. “I’ll talk to one of them, not you, and they need to come to my house. I’m not going anywhere.”C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

I’m exhausted and fed up with being dragged to places I have no desire to be. My feet climb the steps of my brownstone, a worried Michelle hanging nearby.

“It’s not safe for you here.”

I ignore her as I unlock the door to my house and step inside, slamming it shut on her face. The door rattles with her knocking as I remove my boots. The bitch can stand in the snow for eternity, for all I care.

The apartment looks just how I left it. An abandoned coffee mug sits on the counter, still half filled with the dark liquid. My feet move soundlessly to my bedroom, once a place I felt safe. The sheets are still tousled from restless sleep, and it occurs to me that since I’ve been with Tommy, I’ve never slept so well. Standing in the too-small bedroom feels wrong. This place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

A harder series of knocks jars me from my thoughts.

“FBI! Open the door, Ms. Ronaldo.”

I recognize the voice of Agent Palmer, the balding man who intimidated me into talking to them-ruining my life in the process. Calm stills my limbs.

There’s something about Tommy’s kidnapping that made me impervious to all other threats. When your life is on the line, little else matters. They don’t scare me anymore.

I yank open the door and see them standing in the snow, waiting for me to invite them in.

“All of you can come in except her.” I point at Michelle, who swallows hard.

He looks behind him. “Maybe she can stand in the hallway just to get out of the cold.”

My hand reaches for the door again, already closing it.

“All right.”

Michelle, or Agent Spencer, descends the steps and stands on the sidewalk, shooting me unhappy looks as she shivers in her nylons.

Fuck her.

The rest of them file inside and I shut the door, heading toward the kitchen.

Now what? Do I do what Tommy wants me to do?

The thought of leaving New York just makes me feel dead. I was willing to do it before to survive. Surviving isn’t enough for me anymore. He tempted me with a life I could’ve had, in the apartment I always dreamed of.

What’s the use if you’re dead?

“Ms. Ronaldo, we have questions. You disappeared from the motel and we know Tommy O’Sullivan had you kidnapped.”

My eyes fall to the grain of the wood on the table. I trace it with my eyes as if the long lines will lead me to an answer. Is there even a possibility of staying with him?

I’ll do whatever it takes-go into hiding.

“Not true, actually. I left on my own.” I sit down at the table, enjoying the frustration burning his face. “Then I went to my boyfriend’s house. You might know him-Tommy O’Sullivan.”

“Ms. Ronaldo, if they’ve intimidated you-”

“I haven’t been intimidated by them. You’re the ones who intimidated me into making a shitty deal.”

“A shitty deal? The Witness Protection Program has an extremely high success rate. You’ll be able to live your life-”

“On some farm in Wyoming under a new identity. I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to give up my identity.”

He grins. “You don’t really have a choice at this point.”

“I’m not testifying.”

“What?”

His whole demeanor shifts as he stands over me, suddenly threatening.

“I hope you enjoy jail, Ms. Ronaldo, because that’s where you’re going if you don’t cooperate.”

The air around him crackles with electricity, but I have just as much anger burning in my chest. “I’m not testifying and I’m not going to jail. You bullied me into that decision when I didn’t have a lawyer present.”

“What about your parents?” he sneers. “Don’t you care about them?”

“It’s their club, not mine. Surely you must be aware of that?”

He slams his fist on the table. The other agents jump at the noise. “You made an agreement with us, Ms. Ronaldo. You can’t take back the things you’ve already told us.”

“Actually, I can. I’m retracting my testimony on the grounds that I felt intimidated while I was being questioned. My lawyer will contact you with the details.”

“They obviously got to her. We’re wasting our time here,” one of them says near his elbow as he leans over the table, a snarl on his face.

“Fine. You probably won’t last the weekend. Your parents, too.”

I clench my shaking hands under the table.

“I’m glad we could come to an understanding, now get the fuck out of my house.”

With a miserable look on his face, he stands up from the table and walks toward the door. The federal RICO case just lost its key witness.

When they leave the house, the silence reminds me of how alone I really am. My hand slips into my pocket, finding my phone there. The screen lights up and I scroll through my list of contacts, even though I never got Tommy’s number. I want to tell him what happened. I want him to rush over to my house and whisk me away.

I stumble to my bedroom, knowing that every second I stay in this house gives them more time to come after me, but I can’t bring myself to give a shit. Then I burrow under my covers, giving in to a dreamless sleep.