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“We don’t make the rules,” guard one grouses. They’re only soldiers doing as they’re told.
Jay’s jaw tightens, a tick working in his temple as he stares down at me, his hands twitching with his desire to pull me in for a hug. The last time he did that, I wasn’t allowed to talk to or be anywhere near him for two weeks. It was the worst time in my life.
I’m about to reach out a hand to place on his shoulder when it’s swatted back down. Crossing my arms, the tears fall as I turn and leave. There’s nothing else to say. There rarely is anymore. Jay was the only one who ever listened to me before everything happened, and now, I’m terrified that if I reveal anything to him, my parents will take him away from me.
My steps feel heavy as I’m escorted to the waiting Escalade. Guard one gets in the front while guard two sits next to me in the back. The drive home is made in silence because I’m not allowed music, either. Curling up against the door, I let the heat from the vehicle soak into me. It’s the only warmth I get anymore. I suspect if my parents knew I sought it out, they’d forbid it to be turned on, as well.
Anything I find pleasure in, they take away from me. I may have left the mean girls behind at Windsor Hall, but at least with them, someone was thinking about me. Someone knew I existed. Here, I’m nothing, and I wonder why I was ever brought back to life.
CAIN
Girl.
That’s her fucking name.
A goddamned gender.
Who the fuck does that? Shitty-ass people, that’s who. In all my years in the military, traveling, and then taking up a position with my brother Abel with a protection agency, I’ve never seen anyone treated the way she is.
Our precious little lamb.
She tried to kill herself a few months ago. Would have been successful, too, if not for her mother getting food poisoning and her parents coming home. From all accounts, they were more upset about the mess Girl had made than the fact that she coded three times and begged for death when she woke up.
We weren’t going to take this job, not at first. Round-the-clock protection. Following her to school, sleeping on cots in her room. No time away from her at all. It was every agent’s worst assignment. But then we were talked into meeting the family.
Meeting Girl.
Everything changed when her lifeless eyes met ours.
Seventeen years old, and she looked like she’d not only been through war but was the lone survivor. In many ways, she is the lone survivor in a war all her own. A battle she’s clearly losing to this day.
Her friend Jason is the only one who notices anything going on with her. He’s the only one who cares whether she’s alive or dead. The only one who makes an effort to be near her, to talk to her, even though she no longer talks back. I don’t think we’ve heard her voice once in the last three weeks.
For all intents and purposes, Girl has given up on life once again. Only this time, she has no way out. No way to alleviate her suffering. Abel and I have spent a lot of time discussing her, trying to figure out a solution to help her until she turns eighteen and we can whisk her away. Her age is the only thing stopping us because the last thing either of us wants is to be torn away from her due to a fucking technicality.
So we’re waiting. Biding our time.
It’s what made us such excellent snipers in the Army. Our infinite patience molded us into assets for any organization. And now we’re using those skills to rescue the girl in our care. We have a house being built in Greece, a country we both know she longs to go to, thanks to a vision board in her room. The debate over waiting until she’s eighteen or has finished high school is one we’ve both been locked in.
Neither of us wants to rip her out of school, deprive her of an education, but we also know she isn’t going to last much longer in her home. There is no room for her to thrive. No room for her to grow and learn. When Abel and I were in the Army, we’d been trained by the CIA in torture techniques in case of capture. What Girl is living in now is worse than anything either of us experienced.
As we arrive at her house, I can see she’s fallen asleep against the door, curled into herself, and I hate that I have to wake her up. I hate even more that there are fucking cameras everywhere, including inside the SUV, so I can’t do it gently, either. Her parents watch everything, their interest almost obsessive, which is contradictory to the way they treat her.
Muttering under my breath to Abel, “I fucking hate this job,” I catch his matching grimace. He’s no more pleased about the way we must treat her than I am. Blowing out a deep breath, I open the door gentler than I’m supposed to and whisper, “Time to wake up, little lamb.” The name slips, but fuck me when she blinks up at me…the look in her eyes. She heard it. For a second, one split second, I register her pleasure for the first time, and it steals the air from my lungs.
It doesn’t last long enough, however, because once she recognizes where we are, her eyes shutter, and the pain returns. I want to curse up a blue streak and tear down the walls surrounding us. I want to eliminate her suffering and show her love and freedom.
Watching as she climbs out of the vehicle, gripping the strap of her bag, her shoulders slump, and her head bows. The weight of the world is carried on her shoulders, and with each day she’s stifled here, she grows increasingly depressed.
Abel holds the garage door open for her. Lifting a hand, he brushes it across her wrist, up her arm, and strokes the side of her neck. Her body trembles with a need for more. Her feet stop, and she sways toward my brother. She doesn’t raise her head, but we both hear her sniffles, and I realize if either of us were to see her face right now, there would be tears streaking down her colorless cheeks.
“Finally!” Her mother, Ester, is heard before she is seen, giving us all a chance to break out of the spell Abel’s touch put us under. “I was beginning to think the two of you disobeyed my order.” Her manicured hand props on her hip as she stands in the hallway leading to the kitchen.
“No, ma’am. Traffic was a bit heavier than normal.” Abel refuses to speak to the vapid cunt, so I get the pleasure of dealing with her when she bothers to acknowledge that she has a child.
“Girl, you’re needed in the den.” Ester’s chin lifts, and her face screws up in disgust. “What the hell are you crying for? You know what, I don’t care. Go wash your face. You look disgusting.” Walking away, she doesn’t see the way Girl curls into herself as she rushes up to her room.
By the time we catch up to her, she’s put on her favorite baggy sweater—something I think she wears for comfort—and she’s using one of her makeup wipes to wash her face at her vanity. Hearing us enter, her eyes meet mine, then Abel’s, shifting back and forth between us until she finishes what she’s doing.
