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Chapter Four
Willow
I cling onto the leather seats as if my own life depends on it. Every memory of the past few months is replaying in my mind like a movie, every conversation I’ve had with him…every single time he’s walked into the bakery. Nothing makes sense right now. Not one damn thing. Duncan just told me that he works for my father, right before he threw me into the back of this SUV that is. I don’t remember much movement or anything directly after. I’m too caught up in my own mind to pay attention to whatever is happening around me.
Closing my eyes tightly, I try not to think about every lie that’s come from his mouth. Or about how much I’m wondering if anything he told me was ever the truth. He works for my father…which means he can’t be trusted. It’s as plain and simple as that.
I want nothing to do with my father. I think that my actions have shown him that. For fucks sake, there’s a reason I flew half way across the world to start a new life of my own. All he ever did was give me grief and agony, and when he wasn’t doing that, others managed to do it for him. I only felt one thing in London.
Loss.
One person can only take so much before they crumble into a million little pieces. Deaths back to back can do that to a person. For once, I gained the courage to move out of the U.K. and to Australia after being accepted into pastry school. It was my one chance out and onto something greater, so I took it and never looked back.
For some reason I decide to look out of the window, to distract myself from being stuck in my own head and see that we’ve pulled off into a private air strip. I’m so familiar with them but haven’t been to one in years. There wasn’t a need to be at one until now. The only thing in common is that now my father has suddenly decided to re-enter my life in a sense. “I don’t want to go with you,” I inform Duncan, glaring at him like it will change my fate. I know better, though. It won’t do me any good.
He doesn’t say a word, but simply looks at me. It’s odd, how I feel like he wants to let me go but he won’t. Almost as if he doesn’t like the task he’s been given.
“I’m not boarding that plane,” I inform him as sternly as possible.
He chuckles, taking his hand back and running it through his hair. “I don’t give a damn what you say, Willow. Your ass is going to be on that plane one way or another. I’ll fucking tranquilize you if I have to. Do you realize what it is that happened today?”
I search his eyes for answers. It’s been years, of course, I don’t know what happened, but I’m also not dumb. Those people were trying to kill me. I just don’t know why.
Duncan slides his hand around the back of my neck and grips roughly, opening the car door and tugging me out alongside with him. Marcos and Harris both exit the SUV as well and head towards the small plane I see off in the distance. “You’re taking me back to London.” I say it aloud, knowing it to be nothing other than the truth.
“To your father, yes.”
He takes a few steps forward, and I struggle to keep up with his long strides. I decide to stop, not wanting to take any part in this. “I don’t want to go back to him, and that’s that. There’s a reason I left, Duncan. Can’t you understand that?” I look directly into his eyes, searching for something. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for, maybe a shred of the person that I thought I knew.
“I don’t care why you left, Willow. There’s only one thing I care about and that’s getting your ass safely back to your father.” His voice is callous, uncaring. In this moment I realize that I don’t really know a thing about him, and that stings. I thought Duncan was my friend, but it just turns out that he’s my father’s minion.
“This is my life, not hi,” I spit out at him. Instead of allowing us to stay standing, he pulls me along with him until we’re merely a few feet away from the plane. “He doesn’t own me!”
“No, Kristof doesn’t. But he owns me.” Duncan hisses back towards me, “It’s my job to make sure you keep breathing, so do me a damn favor and get on the fucking plane.”
