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Shooting her a wink, I make my way into the depths of the van with Jay close behind, her irritated huff following us in.
If this were anyone else, I’d tell them not to antagonize their kidnapper. In fact, knowing that Addie is in the same exact situation right now, I’d spank her ass if I knew she was being reckless. The
smartest thing to do is keep your fucking mouth shut and listen to orders until you find a way out.
But putting Z in the back of a van will never be the same as putting an innocent civilian in it. For now, I can rely on the fact that they won’t kill Addie. She’s worth too much. And seeing my situation laid out in front of me, I am even more confident Claire isn’t going to win this round.
She may be smart, but she wasn’t smart enough to knock my ass out. That could’ve given her a solid chance.
I sit down on the cold metal bench, gritting my teeth against the pain, and train my feral gaze on Claire again. She stands right outside the doors, staring at me with a slight grin. Her tight red curls are glaring beneath the streetlamp, and for a moment, she appears innocent. She looks like a woman who has endured years of abuse in all forms and just wants to live a life in peace.
But the mirage shatters and all I see is a woman who became everything she hates.
She shoots a loaded look of warning my way, then slams the doors shut, triggering LED lights rimming either side of the floor to flicker on.
Jay settles on the bench across from me, immediately putting on the seatbelt attached to the van wall, while Patrick sits next to me. So close that he is practically sitting in my lap.
My eyes drift to him, a blank expression on my face. “You don’t want to get in a swordfight with me, Patrick. I promise I’ll win,” I deadpan, glancing down between his legs.
Jay hisses at me to shut up, but I don’t tear my gaze away from where I feel his eyes hiding within the deep hood.
"You don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?"
“What’d I say?” I ask, feigning innocence. “I thought that was your intent with the way you’re sitting in my lap."
“It’s going to be hard to get in a swordfight if you have no sword to speak of,” he retorts, his tone dipped in malice.
I arch a brow, unimpressed with his threat. “Even with a chainsaw, it takes time to cut through a tree trunk. You’ll be dead before you get that far.”
“Keep talking,” he snaps, daring me.
I smirk, but keep my mouth shut. If Jay weren’t here, I would continue to antagonize him. It would be my goal for him to attack me and hopefully pull a weapon on me. Thus, presenting me with the perfect opportunity to disarm and kill him instead.
But it’s possible he’d turn the gun on Jay, and I won’t risk his life in place of my own, so I'll bide my time for now. Patrick is going to die. And very soon.
The engine rumbles to life, the metal vibrating beneath my ass. The vehicle surges forward, causing the three of us to sway heavily to the side, forcing Patrick further against me.
We look at each other, and slowly, he slides a few inches away.
That’s what I fucking thought.
Now that the mouth breather has removed itself from my neck, I can actually think.
But it only takes seconds for my thoughts to nosedive, the deadened space I forced my mind into fading away, and that black rage resurfacing.
They took my little mouse.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bow my head, fighting to regain control over my temper. The fragile layer of resolve containing my anxiety and murderous rage is cracking. My panicked thoughts are too heavy, and just like a person standing on thin ice, it’s eventually going to break beneath the pressure.
But I can’t let it. Not yet.
I need to focus on getting us out, and it’s hard enough with my body screaming at me.
There’s the option of attacking and killing Patrick, but that won’t stop the vehicle, especially if they hear me attempting to escape. The only alternative would be shooting the gun off until I hit the driver, which could send us careening into traffic and killing us all. Or Jay and I could attempt to drop and roll out of the back, except my body is too battered to withstand that.
Exhaling through my nose, I lift my head to find Jay already staring at me, brows knitted with concern. His black hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, and he’s shaking like a leaf. He’s definitely not fit for a mercenary life.
Fuck, that’s it.
