It’s dark, and I trip a little, my vision blurry, but Preston is laser focused. We make it halfway, the little bee box just to my left.
“Sutton.” My voice is sluggish as I stop and open the box, pulling out the phone. “Keep going,” I tell Preston as I hold the phone like it’s my lifeline and dash down the path again.
We make it to the cottage and lock ourselves inside. Grabbing the phone only took a few seconds, but it’s enough to have them banging on the door almost immediately. With my heart racing and breaths panting, I lift the phone with shaky hands and hit the button to call Sutton.
We both jolt as a loud thump breaks out across our flimsy door.
“Charlotte…” Preston warns, visibly trembling and stepping back from the door.
“We need a weapon,” I say, but my voice comes out slurred, as the bang on the door comes again. I have no doubt this old timber door will splinter in a matter of seconds, and I can barely stand or keep my eyes open. I need someone here to save Preston. I can’t let anything happen to him.
The phone rings in my hand as I pray Sutton answers.
“Tinker?” He picks up on the second ring, concern in his voice.
“Sutton… Maribel—” is all I get out before I hear the front door of the cottage crack open, and I drop the phone. Running to the kitchen, I stumble, legs wobbling beneath me. I open the drawers so violently, they fall from the cabinetry, smashing all over the floor.
Preston and I look over everything, seeing my bee clip shatter more than it already was, and I bend down to grab the large knife from the silverware drawer.
“Preston, get behind me.”
He jumps behind me as the couple I served at the diner steps through the door.
“You both need to come with us,” the man says, looking angry as he strides in, and Preston backs away, but I stand ready. I’ve never used a knife like this before. I have no idea if I’m even holding it properly, but I’ll do what I have to.
“Who are you and what do you want?” I yell, trying to focus on them, my vision failing me and my voice wonkier by the minute.
“We’re here for Maribel. She knew you were here, tracked the call you made to your father. Tut, tut, tut… silly mistake that was,” the old guy says as the woman circles around to the side, making me look in two directions and not helping my dizziness.
“All you had to do was stay gone… but lucky for us, she’s paying a good sum of money to grab you and ensure you never come back to life again,” the woman taunts. I can’t believe I thought these people were nice.
I murmur something incomprehensible as the man lunges at me, and Preston throws a chair at him. But he’s a big guy. Far outsizing my short five-foot frame, and the chair breaks, shattered against his side.
Again, he lunges at me, grabbing my hair as Preston scurries around, probably looking for something else to defend us. The sting on my scalp burns, and I fling out my arms, still holding the knife, feeling it slice somewhere. The man yells, throwing me to the side, sending me sliding across the floor, seeing bright red now coating his white shirt. When I look up at his face, his scowl turns deadly.
Preston tries to help me, the brave boy he is. I should’ve known my little brother wouldn’t leave my side. He runs and pushes the woman away, but she doesn’t move. Not even an inch. And I know then it’s useless. Because she grabs Preston, pulls him to her body, and presses a gun to my little brother's head.
And I can do nothing to stop it. Not as my body gives up on me, the drugs pulling me into darkness.
My time is up.
46
Sutton
I smile for what feels like the hundredth photo.
“She’s safe, at home,” Sawyer reminds me as I smile wide again, shaking someone’s hand.
The media are everywhere, the distillery restaurant packed. When we aired the commercial, we got a standing ovation and a few wolf whistles. Not to mention, the new whiskey is a huge hit. It’s trending on all social media, and print ads roll out starting tomorrow across national newspapers and magazines. The commercial will run for a few weeks before we replace it with a new one. Each made with a large budget, telling the story of the Whiteman’s brand and a snippet about the Save the Bees charity. Not only are Tanner and Connor pleased, but their smiles are hard to tame. It’s the dream outcome, really, for Tanner, Connor, and me.
“I know,” is all I can say, before he goes back to Annabelle.
I’m feeling off. I want Charlotte with me tonight. I want her with me, always. But I know she’s home safe. Jackson has checked in. Told us the property is secure, that they’re where we left them in the living room. But the commercial went live around the country at the same time as we launched, and I thought I might get a text from her or something.
“Sutton, good to see you.” Tyler Grant strides up to me, and the cameras flash.
“Tyler. Long way from home for you here.” This business billionaire could probably buy the whole town of Whispers, he’s that wealthy.
