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I lowered myself to the floor and lay beside her, knowing a fight was pointless so I should just cooperate.
They lifted Raven to her feet then marched her away.
No one touched me.
“Wait…what about me?” I pushed to my feet and ran after them. “Take me with you!” I wouldn’t be left behind, not when she would be dragged to her fate alone. I didn’t want to live without her, so I’d rather share her gruesome death. “Please!” I grabbed one of the guys and yanked him back.
He gave me a hard shove. “Bitch.”
The other guard turned on him. “We don’t touch her. We don’t look at her. You know what the boss said.” He slammed his gun into the other man’s face, making his nose bleed immediately. “Leave her.” They continued down the hallway and to the stairs until they were out of sight.
I fell to my knees on the floor—and cried.
I sat on the couch in the living room, arms wrapped around my body, broken down in tears. It was dark now because I didn’t turn on any lights. Raven’s knife was still on the floor where she’d left it. Without my sister in that apartment, it didn’t feel like home anymore. The only thing that remained was her ghost.
The dead man lay in the kitchen, his blood everywhere.
Eventually, some of Fender’s men returned and took the body and cleaned up the mess. They didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge my existence. The door was shut like nothing happened.
Now what?
I knew the location of the camp, so I could drive out there, take the long road on foot, and find her.
But there was no camp anymore.
I didn’t have a clue where they’d taken her.
She might be dead right now.
Or she might be alive…and I was just wasting time.
It didn’t matter how pointless it was. It didn’t matter if he hurt me. He was the only option I had—so I took a cab and headed to the palace.
The second I stepped out of the cab, the driver took off. Armed men stood on the other side of the iron gate, carrying assault rifles like this was a war zone rather than the entrance of a historic mansion.
Couldn’t blame him for being scared.
I was scared too.
The palace looked different in spring. The lights on his lawn showed the lively flowers and bushes. The lights were on in his bedroom on the top floor, so he was probably in bed right now or watching TV on the couch.
I was in jeans and a blouse, the attire I’d worn to work earlier that day. The clothes were cheap material with faded colors. My makeup was still on but it wasn’t fresh anymore, and it wasn’t perfect like it used to be. Without the luxuries he’d given me, I was ordinary.
I took a breath to steel my nerves and approached the gate. “I…I’m here to see Fender.” There were half a dozen of them, all dressed in black with bulletproof vests over their clothes. They hadn’t seemed so scary from my bedroom window, but up close, they were terrifying.
The men spoke to one another in French before the one in charge stepped toward the gates to speak to me. “Who are you?”
“Melanie.”
“Is he expecting you?”
I shook my head. “But please, tell him it’s important.” Now that I was nobody, I couldn’t get to him anymore. He could deny me, and that would be the end of it. I’d have to go back to that apartment alone, accepting that I would never see my sister again.
He spoke into his intercom in French. “Une femme est là pour voir le patron.”
A voice spoke back. “Je n’attends personne. Son nom?”
He pressed his finger into his ear. “Melanie.” Then he listened over the line, waiting for orders.
Please let me in.
He motioned to his men, and then the gate opened.
Oh, thank god.
A guy in a golf cart pulled up then nodded for me to sit beside him.
I got into the passenger seat, and we began the long drive toward the palace, around the fountain, the winding road through the gardens and brush, and approached the entrance to his mansion.
I’d been scared every moment since those men had come to the apartment. But I was far more scared now.
Because he was there.
Standing out front.
Waiting for me.
On the very bottom step, where his valet would bring his car.
Shirtless. Black sweatpants. Barefoot.
It’d been a long time since I’d last seen his face, and his expression made me breathless, because instead of just being scared…I was sad. I was sad because I’d missed his face every day that we were apart. He’d literally just taken my sister out of our apartment…and I missed him.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
His gaze was dark and intense.
But it was more than that.
It was fierce.
Angry.
Terrifying.
The golf cart came to a stop in front of him. The driver didn’t look at Fender, keeping his eyes forward as he waited for me to get out so he could drive away. My breath was shaky and I was suddenly weak, but I forced myself to rise.
