Crystal's POV

My hair was in my face and I kept my head down. I didn't want Branson to see the pain he'd caused me. He knew, I was sure. But that didn't mean I was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my face.

Tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain and I couldn't stop them. My breathing was harsh and ragged but no amount of effort from me was calming it. I clenched my teeth together to keep from making a sound and I continued to keep my head down.

My chin was gripped viciously and I was forced to look up at Branson once more. To look into his cold, unfeeling eyes . . . or rather, eye.

He was ridiculously put together for someone who was torturing someone else. A suit and tie. Shiny shoes. Hair combed and slicked back. The only thing out of place was where I'd spat blood out on his shirt. What a shame.

"Now, Crystal," Branson said as he forced me to look at him. "Your father wants me to get the information from you, but I have some questions of my own."

I just glared at him since I didn't trust myself to speak. My voice would either come out too shaky and scared, or I would just end up saying something stupid that would result in another beating.

"I want to know why Jackson Storm is trying to find me."

I shrugged as I looked him up and down. "Not for fashion advise, I can tell you that."

The blow that came after I opened my mouth was almost worth it.

Just before Branson opened his mouth to continue questioning me, his phone went off. He paused for a moment and pulled it from his pocket. He grimaced as he looked at whatever was on the screen. He tucked the phone back into his pocket and turned to Sarah.

"I need to go speak with Mr. Carver," He told her. "Keep watch over her." He paused just before he left the room. "Or, you know, have your fun with her."

Sarah watched him as he left and then her gaze shot over to me.

"Why do you work for him?" I couldn't help but question her.

She shrugged. "He's getting something for me." She shook her head. "You really shouldn't have gotten in the way."

I studied her for a second. "And if I could get whatever it is, for you? Would you help me?"

She smiled at me and then shook her head. "I went to Kurt because I've done business with him before." She shrugged. "Should something . . . happen to him then I might take you up on your offer."

"So much for the neutral party you claim to be."

She smiled again. "I usually am," She said. "This time I get to be one of the bad guys."

"And that doesn't bother you?" I asked her.

Her smile got wider. "I play the hand I'm dealt." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Lines have a tendency to blur when I'm involved."

She watched me for a long moment. "You know," She said finally. "If you and I had met under different circumstances, I do believe the two of us could have been friends."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

There was the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall. Angry footsteps. Someone was practically stomping down the hall.

Since I figured that someone was either my father or Branson, that didn't bode well for me.

Branson came walking back into the room. His expression was angry and he turned his gaze on me with hateful eyes. Sorry-eye.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. This was definitely not going to end well for me.

Sarah just smiled at him. "I take it your talk with Carver went well?" She said.

Branson turned his head to look at her with a glare, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he walked up to her and took the knife she'd been twirling around in her grasp.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You want me to leave you to it?" She asked him.

His gaze was back on me, his back to her. He nodded, still not speaking.

"Very well," She said as she picked up a gun and held it loosely in her hand. "I'll walk the perimeter. Make sure her little conman friend doesn't surprise us. Call me if you need me."

I watched her walk out and that scared me. Even though she was definitely worse than Branson skill-wise, she wasn't quite as evil as he was. I was sure she could be, don't get me wrong, but at the moment between the two of them, I preferred her.

Branson walked over to me after Sarah had left. The knife in his hand glinted in the light and I tried to move away. Since I was still strapped to a damn chair, I wasn't actually able to move at all.

I stared up at him with eyes glittering in anger and pain. I no longer had the energy to try and hide my expressions. No longer had the mindset to make sure my face was blank.

He reached out, his hand grabbing hold of my arm, and began cutting through the ropes on my wrist.

Wherever he intended to take me, I didn't want to know. Nor did I intend to find out. His mistake was when the grip on my arm loosed for just a second as he finished cutting away the rest of the ropes.

So, with what little energy I still had-and the pent-up anger coursing through my body-I shot my fist right into his face. He stumbled back a step and I sprung up from the chair, turning to run out of the house.

Except, I stopped. Why? Because when he opened his mouth and began swearing at being punched in the face, his voice did not match his face.

"Is this the thanks I get for coming to save your life once again?"

I paused and turned to look at him, putting out a hand on the nearby wall to steady myself. "Jackson?" I questioned incredulously as he clutched at his nose.

I watched as he rolled eyes and noticed how even the glass eye-which normally shouldn't move-rolled as well.

"No," He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Julie." He took a step toward me and I took one back because even though he sounded like Jackson-cocky attitude and all-he looked exactly like Branson. Which actually didn't surprise me all that much, once I thought about it. Freaked me out for damn sure though.

"You don't like my disguise?" He asked me.

I shuddered. "One Branson is enough, thank you very much."

Jackson let out a sigh and shook his head. "Fine," He said and I watched as he ran a hand through his hair, shaking it out so it was no longer slicked back against his head. He removed the tie around his neck. Then, he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his face. Specifically, the side of his face covered in scars matching Branson's.

While he wasn't able to completely wipe away whatever make-up he'd used to create the scars, it was now distorted, and several of the scars were completely wiped away.

"I'd remove the contact from my eye," He said as he gestured to his eye which somehow looked exactly like Branson's glass one. "But I didn't bring an extra set of contacts." He rubbed at his eye. "Which is unfortunate, as this is just about the most uncomfortable contact I've ever worn."

I stared at him for a beat. He no longer looked like Branson. Similar, yes as he was still wearing the same outfit and still had the same overall looks. Yet even with just the minor changes he'd made, he somehow looked so much different.

Probably had something to do with the smugness radiating off him and that his posture had changed to his usual one. Which was relaxed, in control, and total attitude.

Of course, I couldn't say it was a complete joy to see him. I wasn't about to go running into his arms. Wasn't about to thank him for this. Especially not after how we'd left things. How he left things.

"Oh yes," I said when I finally found my voice. "I would see your actual eye color. The horror."

Jackson narrowed his eyes at me and took another step toward me.

I held up my hand and took another one back. "Just get me out of here," I said as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying so hard to keep it together. I was in pain. I'd been tortured and beaten damn near nonstop for two days, and I was exhausted.

Jackson eyed me for a long moment before walking toward me.

I tried to back away once again, but I was too tired and he was too fast.

He came up beside me. "You look like you're about to fall over," He said as he wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me up and helping me toward the door.

I made a point to avoid looking at him. "I'll live," I muttered.

I could feel his gaze on me as he guided me down the hall toward the back door.

"How did you even get in here?" I muttered.

"Looking like this?" He said. "They just let me in."

I shook my head. "Of course they did." I let out a sigh. "You know, when you said you could make yourself look like anyone, I really didn't think you meant that literally."

Jackson just rolled his eyes.

I stiffened when I heard my father's voice. When I heard Branson's voice, coming from around the corner.

Jackson moved us fast, and suddenly we were ducked into a room on the left. Which happened to be my father's office.

Of all the places he could have taken us to be out of sight, this was the worst.

"Jackson," I hissed, about to tell him why exactly this was the worst possible room but it turned out that I didn't have to. Because my father's and Branson's voices stopped right outside the door.

Jackson grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me after him, pulling me down under the large wooden desk that my father used. Thankfully, there was a large front panel covering the bottom of the desk, so we would not be visible when they stepped into the room.

However, if my father chose to sit at the desk, we'd be so screwed.

There was enough room under the desk for one person for sure, but for two, it was a very tight fit. I was practically lying on the floor under the desk, my shoulders against one side of drawers, and my knees scrunched up against the other. Jackson had moved so he was basically on top of me. His legs were on either side of me, his arms holding him up to keep his weight off of me. His back and head pressed up against the top of the desk.

He put a finger to his lips as the door to my father's office opened and they both walked in.

"I'm working on it," I heard Branson say.

"Well clearly, your plan is not as well thought out as you originally said," My father snapped. "After what she's done I have no qualms with using my daughter as bait, but you said the conman would be here by now."

Something was slammed down on the desk above us and I nearly jumped. My heart leapt in my chest and I closed my eyes, wanting this nightmare to be over. My hands, I didn't even realize, shot out to fist into the nearest object. Which of course was Jackson's jacket.

Jackson's hand gripped my chin lightly and he tilted my head up. I opened my eyes to see his. He made a motion with his hand, pointing from my eyes to his. Watch me. He mouthed. He then grabbed hold of one of my hands that were fisted in his jacket. He took it in his and interlaced his fingers with mine, squeezing in reassurance.

For the moment, I would take it. After this was all over, however, I was going to do so much more than punch him in his perfect face.

As my father and Branson continued talking, Jackson let go of my hand and stuck his hand in his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone. He once again put his finger to his lips, reminding me to stay silent.

Like I was going to forget.

I watched as he scrolled through his phone and then typed something out with one hand. His other hand he kept on the ground next to me, keeping himself from putting all his weight on me. When he was finished with whatever it was he was doing, he tucked the phone back into his pocket.

I just stared at him questioningly but didn't say anything.

He took my hand in his once more and leaned in what little distance was between us to whisper in my ear. "Did you know your father has a lovely, electrical security system?" He whispered.

I frowned at him, not quite sure what exactly he was on about until an alarm started blaring throughout the house.

My father and Branson both immediately stopped speaking with each other when they heard the alarm.

"That's the perimeter alarm," My father said. "Go check it out."

"Yes sir," Branson replied and I heard his footsteps as he retreated from the room.

Jackson took what appeared to be a small black earbud from his pocket and placed it into his ear. He took a second to adjust it, making sure it was in place.

"Noah," He whispered. "Lock down the house."

I looked at him in bewilderment. "May I remind you that my father is still in the room."

"Oh," Jackson said. "I'm aware and that's kind of the point."

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