Page 47 of Defending Van

“Yes,” he said simply. Honestly, it hadn't been hard to figure that out. If that had been all he needed to end this, he could have done it months ago and saved a whole lot of women a whole lot of trauma.

“Thought you were going to say Griffin was only pretending to be second in command and he was the other one in charge,” Gage “Lefty” Hankins said.

“No, he’s not running things. Well, he’s doing most of the day-to-day work, but I know for a fact he has to report everything back to his father and take orders from the man.” Actually, Van knew a whole lot more than that, but he wasn't ready to divulge all his information to these men just yet. Falcon knew everything he did, but he needed these guys to go in with a clear head, unbiased in any way, so they could help him look for all the intel and not just what they thought they needed.

But right now, as badly as he wanted Azure destroyed, he wanted something else more. Makayla had swept into his life at the most inopportune time, messing up everything he had planned and everything he thought he wanted, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to care, because in doing so, she’d saved him, and now he had to save her.

Chapter

Seventeen

September 1st

5:55 A.M.

First light meant she had to start walking again.

By some miracle, Makayla survived the night. The temperature had dropped a lot lower than she’d expected, and she had nothing other than the thin maid’s uniform to protect her from the cold. At one point, she was pressed with her back against a tree, with anything she could gather piled on top of her, so cold that her body shook violently, and she’d thought she wasn't going to make it.

A sleepy haze, different from regular tiredness, pressed down upon her. It would be so easy to give into it, just allow everything to end in a somewhat peaceful manner. She wouldn't have to worry about being found by the people she knew had to be out here somewhere looking for her. Wouldn't have to worry about going back to that glass cage, wouldn't have to worry about being punished for escaping.

Wouldn't even have to worry about the crushing guilt of what she’d done to escape.

But every time she thought she could just give in, let the cold take her, slip away into sleep and never wake up—which, given the fact she’d been trafficked, was a much nicer death than what would have been waiting for her—she heard Van’s voice in her head.

You do whatever it takes and don’t even think about the consequences.

That’s what Van had made her promise. That she would survive, however she had to, and worry about the consequences later. At the time, she’d been confused about who Van was and why he wasn't punishing her for holding a knife to his neck, but she’d still made the promise.

A promise she now felt like she couldn’t break.

If she gave in to the crushing weight of exhaustion and let herself slip away, die in the night from hypothermia, then that would be breaking the promise, and she couldn’t do that to him. She was afraid that if she broke the promise, she’d also break him, and she just couldn’t do that.

So she fought against the sleepiness crashing into her mind, and instead, she tried to rest without sleeping. Meant she now felt every bit as tired as she had when she first lay down, but at least she was still breathing, watching the sun rise, knowing that so long as she wasn't spotted, she could survive another day.

Whether she could survive another night was up for debate, though.

Maybe she’d have found help by then. A day of walking through the forest hadn't dulled the fears of finding help only for that help to turn around and send her right back to the place she’d managed to escape from.

Still, fear couldn’t paralyze her. Maybe she’d survived last night, but the weaker her body became, the less likely it would be that she could survive another. So really, she had to find her way to help today and then take her chances.

Since the only way to do that was to start walking, Makayla pushed up onto her knees, then used the tree trunk beside her to lever herself up into a standing position.

The pain was so sudden and so severe, catching her completely by surprise because she’d kind of forgotten about it throughout the hours she’d lain huddled here, that she almost fell right back down again.

Screaming wasn't a good idea because she had no idea whether anyone was close enough to hear it, so she clamped her teeth into her bottom lip, whimpered, and leaned against the tree trunk, using it to take most of her weight and take the pressure somewhat off her feet.

They felt like they’d been torn to shreds.

Before she’d settled for the night, when it got too dark to keep walking without risking an injury that would render her immobile, she’d used a nearby stream to wash them off and try to make sure there wasn't too much debris in them. The last thing her body needed was to try to fight off an infection.

Washing them had been unpleasant, and she’d had to walk on them a little more to find herself a place to hide for the night, but while she’d been resting, the pain in them had eased. It wasn't like she thought they didn't have cuts and bruises or that walking on them again today would be fun, but she hadn't expected them to hurt that badly.

Tears streamed down her cheeks because the only way to completely get pressure off her feet was to sit back down again. But if she did that, Makayla was fairly certain she wouldn’t be getting back up again.

Staying put was a death sentence. Either the cold would get her or she would be found. That, or she’d eventually pass from dehydration. So she had to suck it up. Had to keep walking, had to shove away the pain, lock it up, and refuse to allow it to snatch control of her.

Dragging in a ragged breath, she clenched her free hand into a fist as she used her other to push herself off the tree trunk again. The pain was no better this time around, and she let out a whimper. As awful as it had been, she’d rather be back in that room with Van standing over her, the cane in his hand, striking her tender and already bleeding flesh. At least then she’d known there was an end coming. All she’d had to do was get through the ten strikes, and then it would be over.