I should have expected Uncle to notice I’d come back. The girls hadn’t been quiet, and weren’t hiding that they were home. He would have heard them talking to me. “What are you doing back so early?” he demanded quietly.
He wouldn’t understand, but I tried to sign an answer to him anyways. “Liza wasn’t feeling well. I was making sure she and Victoria got home safe.”
“You better be planning to get back there and finish your job,” Uncle scowled, jabbing a finger into my chest.
I shook my head and pushed his hand away to begin signing as fast as I could: “No. No more jobs, Uncle. I need real work where they know my real name and if something happens I can communicate without feeling like an idiot because no one knows I can’t speak!”
But Uncle was already on his own cell and completely ignoring the signs he refused to understand. When he said “Yes, she made it home safe” I guessed Mike ratted me out to someone.
I was both relieved and hurt not to hear more questions about me, since that meant Mr. Prince hadn’t made a scene of looking for me. I could never be sure about Uncle’s reaction to matches, and how that related to his strange obsession with Prince Enterprises. Maybe his hatred of soulmates could be overridden when the match was Tyr Prince - or maybe that would make it worse.
There weren’t questions about me, though, just Liza. That meant Mr. Prince hadn’t been asking after me, and that meant he had probably rejected me. My words were as black as ever; if I rejected him as well, they would fade. I didn’t want that. I wanted my words, at least. They were proof I hadn’t imagined things. Had I said his words too?
I turned to go to my room, and Uncle grabbed my wrist, jerking me forward. “Now that everything’s settled I’m sure he’d be happy to return for the last few hours, and help with cleanup to make up for his sudden departure,” Uncle was saying. They must have switched back to talking about me, but it was about work - not about me, not really.
I shook my head and tried to pull my hand back, but Uncle was strong and tightened his grip. It felt like my bones would crush under the pressure, and tomorrow I was going to have a pretty dark bruise where he gripped me but right then all I knew was that it really, really hurt.
“Of course, of course,” he was saying. “I’m so sorry for the mixup. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes; we left messages for him on his phone, but he didn’t think to check them. It won’t happen again.”
He dropped my wrist to point dramatically downstairs, and I made my way down to the kitchen with him on my heels. With him watching, I opened the front door and stepped outside. It was cold, and I wasn’t dressed to be standing in the night air. I ducked down so he couldn’t see me through the window and waited to see if he would yell at me again.
Uncle’s voice faded so I stepped back inside, closed and locked the door, and crept back upstairs to my room. Uncle had migrated to his office and was still talking to someone at the club from the sound of it. I wasn’t going back. I couldn’t. If I went back I’d face Tyr Prince. He’d be furious, and he’d reject me to my face. That was the worst scenario.
I closed the door to my bedroom as silently as I could and then fell on my bed. I didn’t bother changing, just turned into my pillow and let a soundless scream rip from my throat. Tears burned behind my eyes, but refused to fall without the definite cut of a clear bondbreak. I let the air choke me and my stomach rebel in sharp contractions at the uncertainty and pain of knowing the answer I’d get if I ever faced him again.
I’d been so close. Pressed against him, close enough to kiss, and because of my cousins I wasn’t going to have my soulmate. I’d run from him, and there was no way Tyr Prince was going to forgive that. If he’d been concerned - or even just curious - he would have asked the staff, and they would have told the shift manager, who would have asked my Uncle, and I would know. No way he wouldn’t be asking me about that. He’d either be furious or politely cold (which was worse), but there would be a reaction either way.
I brought my wrist up and tried to guess if it had faded any or not in the last ten minutes. It was hard to tell in the dark, and it felt sore from Uncle’s grip. I thought it was still black and solid, standing out against the red bracelet Uncle’s hand had formed. I prayed the marks were still clear. Tomorrow my wrist would be too bruised to tell, and I wanted to see them again before they started to fade. I wanted to remember them. The words were mine. They’d been my lifeline several times. I’d been thrilled to know someone would want me so completely, and so surely.
How long did it take a mark to fade? Was there still hope? Maybe Mr. Prince understood and was trying to be discrete? I had no idea. Uncle never talked about when his mark faded, and bringing it up wasn’t something you did casually. I couldn’t ask just anyone.
I would need to get my duffel tomorrow; maybe I could stop by the Prince building and just see if it was open. Take a peak and watch who went in and out, then walk over to Redbird’s and ask if I could have my job back. Tell them I couldn’t speak, and my Uncle had just misunderstood when he said I quit. See if Mr. Prince remembered I was the delivery man from a few days ago and stopped by to ask after me. Maybe I could see him again, from the back, if he wanted to make sure I understood.
It wouldn’t hurt just to watch him, right?
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A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you've been enjoying the story so far. I wanted to thank everyone who has liked and subscribed to this story. <3 I'm thrilled every time I see new activity!
I know many of the chapters recently have been focused on Ash's POV. I promise we will get more Tyr-drama soon. Daily updates will likely continue for around another week, then I might switch to every-other-day and start posting a new story on the off days.
Comments, hearts, and subscribes are all appreciated! Thank you very much!
~Lizzie
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