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“Can you get footage surrounding the area?” I ask Vic, gripping the back of his chair. “We’ve gotta know if it’s his. If he’s there.”
Vic is already working on it as I speak, his eyes narrowed.
“It’s remote, outside of the city,” he says, speaking slowly as he follows the trail of information he’s digging up in real-time. “Looks like some kind of cabin in the woods. Maybe he bought it as a sort of safe house in case he ever needed to lie low. Or as someplace where he could do shady shit without being seen. Let me see what I can piece together.”
It’s another tense few minutes as we watch my twin work. Rushing him isn’t going to help anything, I know that. But at the same time, I feel like I’m champing at the bit, wanting him to hurry up, desperate for this to besomething.
Finally, Vic pulls up some blurry footage.
“This is from about a week ago,” he says. A couple of cars with tinted windows are driving up a twisting road, which I assume leads to the cabin he found.
“There’s not a lot of traffic in this area,” Vic explains. “Almost no cars use this road. And the timing works out right. So—”
“So that’s probably her,” Ransom finishes.
“It’s as solid of a lead as we’ve got,” Vic agrees.
My muscles tense, ready for action. I can’t fucking wait any longer.
“It’s good enough to act on,” I tell them, clapping my hands on the back of Vic’s chair and stepping back. “Let’s go.”
Ransom gives me a look, although he’s already moving toward the cabinet where we’ve stashed the weapons we bought over the past few days. “You know this isn’t going to be easy, right? Troy’s going to have security with him. And considering how well-trained the crew who came after us in Mexico was, he’s probably not taking any chances.”
I shoot him a dark smile, cracking my knuckles. “Good. I’m in the mood to kill more than one motherfucker tonight.”
6
WILLOW
Light suddenly floodsthe small space I’m trapped in, and I have to blink back tears as it burns my eyes.
When I glance up, Troy is standing there, the smug smile I’ve come to loathe playing over his lips as he looks down at me.
“Are you ready to be a good girl this time?” he asks, all mocking condescension, as if he’s talking to a child or a pet. “Are you starting to learn your lesson, little wife?”
I swallow hard and nod.
I’ve been locked down here in this little crawl space several times now. Enough that I’ve started to lose count, lose the tether of time as the days bled together. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here anymore.
He’s let me out to eat sometimes, and he’s forced himself on me again too.
Through it all, I’ve somehow managed to keep some small thread of my sanity intact, not letting this break me. I keep the sound of Malice’s voice in my head, telling me I’m strong, and that’s helped in my darkest moments. In my time alone, I’ve been putting together a plan for how I might get free of this, building it in my mind while I try to numb myself to what’s been happening to my body.
I’ve been giving Troy what he wants ever since my outburst that first night, since disengaging makes it seem like he’s breaking me the way he wants to. Not fighting back makes him smirk that awful smirk, but I’m hoping it’s also making him more complacent.
It’s a risky plan, especially since Troy has proven himself to be more cunning and vicious than I first thought. But it’s the only possible escape route I can see, so I have to try. No matter how dangerous and soul-crushing it is.
The worst part is that sometimes I can’t tell if it’s an act anymore. The lines between the lie and the truth are just as blurred as the amount of time I’ve been here, leaving me feeling disoriented and numb, like a stranger in my own body.
Fuck. Maybe he reallyisbreaking me.
Troy reaches down to take my arm and help me out of the cramped space, and I want to flinch back away from him, but I force myself not to.
He notices the way I keep myself pliant and loose in his arms, and he smiles approvingly.
“There you go,” he croons, and the fake kindness in his tone makes nausea roil my stomach. “You’re learning so well. You’ll be fit to appear on my arm in public in no time. I’ll get you cleaned up, dress you in something other than the shit you used to wear, and no one will ever guess that you’re the daughter of a whore, will they? They’ll never know that you’re just polished up trash. My pretty littlewife.”
As if he can’t help himself, he drops his head and bites my neck, and I press my lips together, my toes curling against the hardwood as I struggle to keep myself from reacting to the pain. When he drags his tongue over the bite mark, I squeeze my eyes shut, making sure not to let a single tear fall.
