Thirteen

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I take the key from Von's hand once the door is open and begin to walk inside my hotel room alone.

"Don't touch me." I'm having a hard time controlling my emotions after what I did. The gasp I make is dramatic when Von touches my wrist, places two fingers over my pulse.

"Be calm," He says slowly as he feels my racing heartbeat. "I need to be with you right now."

I can't move.

He stares at me with something so complex in his eyes and I stare back with hatred. Time slows and both of our feelings melt away. My heart throbs, I can't deny I crave him. I can't keep pretending he doesn't care about me.

Out of all of the horrible things Von has done to me, his true feelings remain. I don't think he has the slightest idea of love. I don't know if he's capable of anything close. I can only hope that a future with him won't hurt as much as our past. Looking in his eyes I know I'm locked in.

He doesn't follow me into my luxury hotel room. He just waits outside of it with his guns on him. I have one on myself and I've already thought about killing him with it.

I smell of bubbly lavender when I fall back completely naked onto the scarlet silk sheets. They are cold. My father's body was cold.

I'm cold.

My body craves touch. It's all my fault. They should make me forget it's all my fault. I can't tell Von to come in here with me.

Yet, my feet slip into the fur house slippers. I make it all the way across the suite's marble floors. The small distance practically winds me but I make it to the door. The security system that shows who's waiting just outside. As I catch my breath I spot Von with his head in his hands.

I'm tempted to let him in, and that's probably exactly what he wants. He'd distract me from my thoughts, or he'd make me face them. I feel so torn my brain is splitting. If I think too hard I start panicking. I don't want to have another panic attack.

"You can't come in but I have questions," I say as I open the door. "Do you know who did it yet? And how long have you known."

Von doesn't respond to me. His black hair messy after he ran his hands through it too many times. He looks up at me with tsunamis in his irises.

"You of all people should know. You're her son." I open the door a bit more so that I can peer down at his stoic face. "Why won't you answer me?"

Von usually gets mad when I bring up his past. He seems to have spent all twenty-five years of his life trying to hide it in plain sight. He has Long Live SS tattooed into his skin. He stands up and steps towards me. Nothing he says or does will change the fact that Diana is his mother.

"I need a bed," he says lowly.

My face warms up at the implications, then at my own assumptions.

"There's somethings I can't tell you," Von leans down onto the doorframe and checks for my reaction. He doesn't even give me an answer.

"What can't you tell me? I could have died. I don't think you care," I say. "I still have burns. George, my cat burned to a crisp. My dad c-couldn't even move before he died."

"Calm down, little Mia," Von says for what feels like the third time tonight. "I only care about your injuries, nothing else. You were hurt; I have to know who it was, but bullets are reckless enough. I can't have you acting that way."

"They act that way towards me, and you let them," I say, preparing to shut the door based on his reaction.

"Don't," Von flares. "I'm helping you, not trying to get you any more hurt. Any more than you're already indebted to."

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