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“Who is it?”
“Knox. He spent a few years studying abroad before he enlisted with us.”
“You mean your brother who was so adamant aboutnothelping me that he quit day one?”
“He’ll do it.”
“You sound awfully confident.”
“I’m not going to give him a choice.” I tuck my phone away and take Willow’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get a move on.”
Chapter 21
Willow
Iwake up the next morning feeling under the weather. I’m not sure if it’s because I didn’t get much sleep—Zane and I were up really late—or if it was something I ate for dinner. My stomach is a queasy knot, my skin is mildly feverish, and there’s a terrible pressure behind my eyes.
I roll over in bed, stretching beneath my warm covers. A sliver of golden morning light peeks in through the crack in the window curtains, casting a gentle glow over the furniture in the room. I reach out to my side, fully expecting to find Zane beside me…
He’s already gone.
A quick glance at my bedside alarm clock tells me that it’s 5:35 a.m. I’m disappointed but not surprised. Marianne and a few of the other maids are usually already up and working by six, a fact that Zane is likely well aware of considering he’s privy to everyone’s work schedules for security purposes. It’s probably a good thing he’s not here, because being caught together will surely spell our demise.
I change into a pair of jeans and a simple white blouse, sleepily brushing out the knots in my hair by the time Marianne carries in my breakfast. She’s extra squirrely today, her eyes shifting back and forth like she’s on high alert for signs of a lurking predator.
“I received word from my cousins down south,” she whispers conspiratorially.
I frown. “About…”
“There’s been a number of murders. Marrones are showing up dead left and right. They think it’s Esteban’s doing.”
I sit up a bit straighter, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach entirely forgotten. “Why do you think I would be interested in that information?”
Marianne rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. I wasn’t born yesterday, Willow. I know you and that handsome bodyguard of yours are plotting something.”
I blanche, my heart skipping a beat. “W-we’re not.”
“You can trust me, remember? I wouldn’t have helped you escape the first time if I wasn’t on your side.” Marianne crouches down beside me and takes my hand. “I can get the rest of the household on your side. Believe me, Willow, there are those amongst the staff who want to see you get out of here just as much as you do.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly too dry to breathe. It’s true that Marianne helped me get away, but can the rest of the staff really be trusted? I can see the benefits of having more allies but casting too wide a net could end up backfiring. It’s one thing to say they’re on my side, but I know who cuts their paychecks. What if somebody reports back to my father?
“This stays between you and me,” I say softly. “You, me, Heath, and Zane. We need to keep this as contained as possible.”
“Of course, of course,” she says, patting the back of my hand. “I’ll keep the other maids busy. Hopefully they’ll be scarce enough that you can formulate a plan undisturbed.”
“Thank you, Marianne. I really appreciate this. Did your cousin have any more news?”
She shakes her head. “Only that things are about to get ugly.”
Zane’s heavy footfalls announce his presence. He gives Marianne a brief nod before looking at me. “Good morning. I’ve given the patrol guards some maintenance work in the warehouse, so we’ll have free reign of the front yard if you’d like to go for a walk. It’s only for a couple of hours, and I know it’s early, but…”
I smile, the promise of fresh air and the chance to stretch my legs sending excitement rushing through me. “I’d love that.”
“After you, Ms. Allegra.”
I leave through the front door, tiptoeing across the lawn in my bare feet. The grass is slightly wet with the morning dew, but the sunshine overhead does a wonderful job of warming me up. The air is crisp and cool against my cheeks, the tunes of the morning songbirds heavenly in my ears.
As I enjoy the outdoors, I’m aware of Zane’s eyes on me. His smile is sweet, but his gaze is sad. There’s pity in his expression—pityandresolve.
