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What where these men doing behind the scenes while I was tucked up with Rage, believing I was starting something good?
Selling you to London mob bosses…
Creating fake sisters so I would willingly leave the sanctuary I had built.
The thought floats through my mind, and the moment it does, I cannot scrape it off. Every instinct in my body urges me to run, but a sea of unfriendly faces is between me and the door. The only place to go is onto the terrace.
“Skye, you don’t have anything to fear anymore.” The woman pretending to be my sister holds her hands up as if she’s not a threat to me. I don’t miss the fact everyone in the room is inching closer to me.
“Stay fucking back!” I yell, my voice cracking but unwavering as emotion overwhelms me.
The blonde steps closer, forcing Lucas to either move with her or let her go. “I didn’t intend to ever meet our father after I discovered his affair with my mother a year ago. But then I learned about you, Skye, and I was scared for you. This world is not kind to women, and I wanted to be sure you’re safe.”
I see the sincerity in her eyes as she says these words, but I have had plenty of people look me in the eyes as they lied to my face. “I don’t believe you. I don’t even know your name, and you come here pretending to be my sister, pretending to care about me. I know how my father works and the things he is capable of. You can go back to him and tell him I’m not stupid. I’m not falling for his lies anymore.”
I back up a little farther, inching towards the door that leads to the terrace. I doubt I will be able to outrun all these people, but I have to try. I won’t be cornered or caged again.
“Sorry, I should have told you my name. I’m Sariah, and I’m not working with Desmond. I’ve never even met him. I grew up for years believing my father was Declan Easton, but our parents had an affair before you were born.”
As much as I want to deny she is my sister, the evidence is staring me in the face. We look too similar for it to be coincidence, but I have no idea if this woman is friend or foe, and I’m not risking my life to discover that.
“Fuck you,” I hiss before I bolt for the door.
I push around the tables, taking the most direct route to the terrace that avoids anyone getting close. Adrenaline pounds through my veins, giving me strength and speed I wouldn’t usually possess.
My heart soars as I slam through the door and out into the fresh air. The place I would come to sit in the mornings, letting the sun heat my face, is no longer comforting. It’s merely an extension of the shackles these people have chained me in.
Voices behind me tell me I’m not going to get far, but I have to try. I have to survive for both of us.
I dart around the edge of the terrace, doubling back on myself in the direction of the gate I know leads to the street. I’ve never tried to open it. Escape was not in my mind until this moment, so when I lift the latch and the metal creaks as it swings open, all I feel is relief.
“Skye! Stop!”
Voices call to me, but I ignore everything as I burst out onto the street. Bikes line the kerbs either side of the road, and the bustle of traffic can be heard through the narrow walkway that connects the cul-de-sac to the main road.
I head in that direction, my lungs burning and my stomach churning as I hear heavy footfalls behind me. I don’t dare to look around, to see how close my pursuers are, and as the edge of the narrow walkway opens out, I’m facing a busy road.
I don’t have time to wait for a gap in the traffic, so I step off the kerb. As I do, an arm hooks around my front, tugging me back. I scream. I don’t mean to, but the sound rips out of me in desperation as I’m taken back towards the walkway.
The tattooed arm around me is familiar, and I know it’s Howler’s chest my back is pressed against. I try to fight, to claw and scratch at his skin, but his hold is iron, and I can do nothing as I’m dragged back towards the clubhouse. “Easy,” he says in my ear. “We ain’t the enemy.”
But he’s wrong. Everyone is my enemy. I’m a piece on a chessboard, being used to win the game, and I am so stupid for not seeing that.
Rage is loyal to his club, to his friends, and I start to doubt every interaction we have had. Did he want me to believe he loved me? Was it all an act to make me trust him, so they could hand me over to these men?
I know I’m not thinking straight, that my thoughts are muddied and jumbled, but now that the seed of doubt has been planted in my mind, I can’t shake it off.
“Let go of me!” I scream like a banshee, kicking out as he holds me in place.
I don’t care that I’m causing a scene. I don’t care that I’m clawing at his skin either. My only focus is on getting away. If those men take me away, I’ll be at their mercy. I may be naïve in a lot of ways, but I know what happens to women in our world when they are abducted.
“Fuck, stop fighting me!”
As I’m dragged back into the building, my heart sinks into my stomach. Any chance of survival is gone, and I’m at the mercy of others once again.
“Take your fucking hands off her!” Sariah tries to launch at Howler, but Lucas wraps a hand around her chest, pulling her back against him.
“Calm down, little dove.” His words are quiet, but there is a crack of authority lacing his tone that makes her sag in his arms.
