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“Just do.” He pauses, then adds, “It was obvious, Vic. I could see it every time she looked at you. Just like she could see it in the way you looked at her.”
I let out another ragged breath and when I breathe in again, my lungs don’t protest quite as much.
“Okay,” I murmur. “We have to find her, Malice.”
“We will,” he says, his expression hardening. “I don’t give a fuck if we have to turn this whole damned state upside down, or this whole damn country. We’re gonna find her.”
He reaches out a hand, and the sight of it plunges me into a memory of a different time, years ago.
Malice was younger then, but no less determined. His eyes blazed almost exactly the way they are now as he told me and Ransom that we were gonna make sure our dad could never hurt our mom again. He held his hand out then too, and Ransom and I clasped it in turn, sealing the deal with a handshake that meant so much.
The stakes are just as high now, with the fate of the only person we love as much as each other hanging in the balance.
So I reach out, clasping Malice’s hand the same way I did back then. He squeezes, and I squeeze back. For a moment, I’m wrapped up in the knowledge that whatever comes, at least we’re all in this together. At least we’re not grappling with any of this shit alone.
We hold that for a second, and then we let go, the moment broken. But the impact is still there.
I feel more steady as we leave the bathroom, and I apply some ointment to my wound before sitting down at the desk. My hands don’t shake as I pull up my programs, ready to resume the search.
A few minutes later, there’s a muffled curse from outside the door, and then Ransom comes in, balancing a drink carrier and several massive bags, as well as the room key.
“Thanks for getting the door,” he grumbles, tossing the plastic key onto one of the beds.
“You didn’t knock,” Malice says, shrugging.
Ransom rolls his eyes and tosses the bags of clothes down on the bed before he starts distributing the food.
It’s just fast food, greasy burgers and fries that have already started to cool, and I barely taste it as I eat and sip at the soda Ransom brought for me.
Malice and Ransom give each other shit, but once again, it starts to fade to background noise as I narrow my focus. I tap my fingers on the desk—one, two, three, four, five. I inhale deeply, the scent of grease and salt rushing through my nose.
Re-centered, I get back to work for real.
Once they’re done eating and have showered as well, I’ll get Malice and Ransom to help me, maybe by turning my digital map into something physical that we can see on the wall. We’ll keep working as long as we have to, until Willow is back and safe.
Because I can’t live without her. I spent so long fighting it, trying to deny my feelings. But it’s not a question. Not anymore.
I need her more than I need air.
And I’ll destroy anyone who hurts her or tries to keep me away.
4
WILLOW
Goosebumps prickle my skin,and I do my best to pull in a deep breath, but all I can seem to manage is a short, sharp inhale.
I’m back in the room I was in when I first woke up in this hellhole, but nothing about it feels comforting or familiar.
I avoid the bed, sitting on the floor instead, my arms wrapped around my knees, as if I can keep myself together that way. The dress I was forced to get married in hangs off of me in tatters, strips of white satin and lace that don’t do enough to cover me up anymore. I still keep pulling the scraps around me even more, and my hands shake as I arrange the pieces.
There’s very little light in the room, but I can still catch sight of the red streaks under my fingernails. I curl my hand into a fist, but it doesn’t really help.
My body shakes, adrenaline and fear finally starting to leak out of me, leaving me in a state of something like shock. My face is wet with tears, and every so often, another one tracks down my cheeks, spilling over. I don’t bother to wipe them away.
I take a breath and then another, trying to keep myself as steady as possible. It feels like if I fall apart now, I’ll never be able to put the pieces back together.
Everything hurts, and there’s a headache throbbing behind my eye, so I take a note from Vic’s book, trying to count each breath, letting it center me a little. But it also makes me think about Vic and the others, and that hurts like an invisible knife being driven into my chest.
