Words meant to protect the façade crumbling around the fake eggs.
“That depends,” Jack said to Xavier as he jumped down from the stage and ripped the table cloth from his neck. “Were you planning on paying Sage and me for our ‘donations’?”
Beckett took my hand now, prying it from its grip on the table, and pulled me from my seat, moving toward the French doors next to the veranda.
A bullet chipped at the marble at my feet, and I let out a small scream, as did some voices from the crowd.
“Let go of the girl, or I’ll shoot her,” Sven said. He stood on the dance floor only twenty feet away.
Beckett dropped my hand, but I couldn’t tell whether the shock on Beck’s face was real or feigned.
“Do not shoot the girl,” Xavier repeated.
Sven’s gun aimed at my chest, as if he didn’t hear Xavier at all.
“Don’t even think about it,” Jack said, striding forward and leveling his gun at Sven.
The ballroom fell completely silent.
“Back away from her,” Sven said to Beckett.
To my surprise, Beckett took a few steps back, arms raised. He and Jack nearly stood side by side now.
“Tell your brother to lift his gun, or I shoot the girl,” Sven said.
As if to prove his point, his thumb pulled back on the hammer.
Beckett swallowed. “Jack, raise your gun.”
Jack seemed to debate for a moment and then lifted his gun. Sven didn’t move his aim off me.
The guards were closing in, their guns drawn, all aimed at Jack and Beckett.
Then, as if the brothers communicated with each other through some unspoken language, their bodies moved in timing with one another, and they both took two leaps backward toward the glass French doors.
They jumped simultaneously, diving through the glass and out onto the veranda, their shoulders hitting the doors first to break the glass. They moved with synchronization that came only from living with someone most of your life and knowing them so well that your response to their actions came from instinct, not from talking or thinking about it.
My heart contracted. I knew I was supposed to follow them because they were outside now, and I was still inside with all these people who wanted me but didn’t care about me.
Jack and Beckett were already sprinting across the veranda toward the lawn.
Why were they leaving me?!
Why weren’t they waiting for me or shooting into the crowd to keep the guards back? Something? Anything? This wasn’t going the way it was meant to go.
If Vasterias kept me and locked me up here in this mansion, if they had their way with my body ….
No.
No, I wouldn’t let it happen. If I died trying to escape, it was better than dying inside these walls.
Luckily, I had the long slit up my dress.
My heart pounding, I took one last look at Sven’s gun barrel trained on my chest. I spun, sprinting toward the broken veranda doors, glass crunching beneath my high heels. I heard guards moving in behind me, Sven with them.
My jaw clenched in frustration at how slow I felt. I surged forward harder, knowing this was my only chance to make it out. But my heels slipped on the broken pieces of glass. My left hand dropped to the floor to catch myself. My palm sliced open on a shard.
I cried out for the boys to wait for me.
Before I could lift myself again and dive out the door, a guard grabbed my arm. I kicked him in the stomach with the point of my high heel. Another guard came at me, and I used a move Jack taught me on the island; my thumb pressed hard into the soft spot at the guard’s throat. He backed away.
Before I could spin and focus on whoever approached me from behind, Sven had hold of my arm. Another guard grabbed my other.
I jerked against their grasp, yelling at them to let me go.
Xavier nodded at Sven as they pulled me away from the French doors—a sign of approval at the way Sven had handled the entire situation—and motioned for guards to go after the boys.
The entire room had fallen silent, still under some sort of magical spell, shocked at Jack’s show of physical prowess. Shocked at the dissolution of their beautiful night.
Dallamore approached Sven, his voice shaky. “This way. To her room. Let’s get her to her room.”
I screamed, struggling against the two men until Sven shook me so hard it made me dizzy.
“Stop fighting us, girl,” he said into my ear.
My exit from the ballroom drew just as many stares as when I’d entered earlier this evening. Except now my dress was torn and my hair had fallen out of its elegant up-do. Loose strands fell over my eyes, but I could still see the crowd of people frozen in their places—some glued to their chairs, others huddled against the back wall.
Only Dr. Adamson seemed entertained by the entire unfolding. He hadn’t moved from his chair, and now, he took another sip of his drink.
But the rest of the faces that watched me looked much paler than earlier in the evening and maybe even a little afraid of me.
Beneath my anger and feelings of abandonment, I embraced this with full satisfaction.
No, I am not the compliant little girl you believed me to be, am I?
64
JACK
Beckett panted next to me in the bushes. The first phase of our escape had gone exactly as planned. Sage looked sufficiently betrayed, just like we needed her to. All for the ruse.
I holstered my gun and gave Beck the nod.
It was time for me to leave our hiding spot and make a break for Sage’s bathroom window. I’d have to scale the stone wall and needed time.
Beckett would head in the other direction and wait for the gold dress.
I was just about to exit the shrubs when Beckett grabbed my arm. “Here, wait. Take this.”
He pulled Mom’s pink jewelry pouch from the pocket of his tuxedo.
I frowned.
“Take it.” He pushed it toward me. “Just in case.”
“In case what?” I didn’t reach for it.
Beckett shrugged. “Just do it, okay? You can tell her it’s from me, if you want to. I would have given it to her before, but the gala … there wasn’t a good time.”
He pressed the pouch into my hand.
I shook my head, angry at the reason he was giving it to me—just in case—but I slipped the pouch into my jeans pocket anyway.
I grabbed his inner forearm, gripping it tight. “See you soon, alright?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, gripping back.
“See you soon.”
65
SAGE
With Dallamore leading the way, Sven and the guard dragged me all the way up the curved marble staircase and down the hall to my room. Dallamore swung open the door. Sven didn’t let go of my arm until after we stepped inside. He shoved me, and I stumbled forward.
Ollie jumped off the bed and started barking.
Sven spoke to Dallamore. “Shut the door and keep the guard posted outside. I’m searching the room and checking the windows. Let Xavier know that we made it to her room.”
Dallamore nodded nervously, like he hadn’t been expecting the night to unfold in this way.
Tears pricked at my eyes. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. I wasn’t still supposed to be here. Sven was supposed to be on our side.
I had to get out of here. I had to fight. I had to do something.
The door clicked shut behind us, and Sven turned to me.
“Strip,” he ordered.
My chest constricted. I blinked a few times, unsure I heard him correctly. “What?”
As if he could sense my fear, Ollie began barking louder, more emphatically.
“I said strip your dress. Go on. We don’t have any time to waste.”
“Maybe if you ask her nicely. And look away.”
Jack’s voice came from the far side of the room as he strode from the bathroom doorway. I held back a choked sob of relief. Jack stopped at the win
dow and yanked down a floor-length curtain. Ollie’s bark turned into a whine.
Jack looked at me. “Sven’s right. We don’t have much time. And we do need that dress you’re wearing. I have another change of clothes in the bathroom. Take that off quickly, and cover up with this.”
He approached me with the curtain, holding it up, creating a visual barrier between me and the two of them. Numbly, I did as Jack instructed, feeling vulnerable at the idea of a curtain as the only thing between my undressed body and two males on the other side.
The golden satin dropped down to my ankles. Blood from my cut palm dripped onto the dress and the carpet. I picked up the dress with my good hand and tossed it over the barrier.
Jack dropped the curtain around my shoulders, and I wrapped it over my bare skin.
Sven didn’t even look back as he shoved the dress inside his tuxedo coat and made for the door. Ollie started barking again.
“Hide,” Sven said to Jack, pausing just long enough for Jack to duck behind the giant wardrobe.
As Sven opened the door, Ollie, still barking, chased him out into the hall.
“All clear,” I heard Sven say to the guard, not taking notice of Ollie as he strode away down the hall. “Lock it up.”
“Ollie! Get over here!” I shouted, but he was chasing Sven toward the stairs. The guard closed the door and locked it.
I could still hear Ollie barking.
I pounded on the door.
“Ollie!” I cried again.
Jack’s hand stopped me.
“There’s no time,” he said softly.
“But, Ollie!”
“There’s no time,” Jack repeated.
His words flashed me back to the island, with Jack and Finn. We’d run out of time to escape back then, too, and because I didn’t listen to Jack, Finn got shot in the arm.
My heart cracked, but I bit the inside of my lip and nodded.
“Alright. Fine.”
*
Jack followed me into the bathroom. “Your palm is still bleeding,” he said, frowning.
I glanced down at the gash on my left hand. Blood seeped from it, but I had just cut the skin only a matter of minutes ago, not like it would already be healed up.
Or maybe he thought it would ….
“Here,” Jack said. He took the hand towel hanging on a bronze hook by the sink and ripped off a strip. Tentatively, he stepped into my personal space, which felt all the more personal with only the curtain draped around me.
He wrapped the towel piece around my palm and began to tie a knot on the top of my hand.
“Did I hear things, or did someone back there just bid nine hundred million dollars for a part of your body?”
I rolled my eyes.
He smiled faintly, finishing off the knot. “I suppose, technically, that was a bid for your body part and my body part, so that makes it what? Four hundred fifty a piece?”
I tried to suppress my grin. “Can we just get out of here please?”
Jack’s fingers brushed my skin as he pulled his hands away. I waited for the jolt of electricity that flowed anytime our skin connected, but it didn’t come. A current still pulsed between us, but it didn’t elicit the same shock. The connection felt lighter, and the subsequent butterflies in my stomach felt less insistent—both sensations so different than the last time we’d touched, back on the island when I pushed him from the helicopter.
Why did I feel disappointed at this? Before, when I’d felt the pull, it was all-consuming. I should have felt relief at this new reality that it was gone, but I didn’t.
“That will do for the next few hours until we make it to the hotel,” he said, nodding to my hand. “Clothes are right there by the sink.” He pointed to a perfectly folded pile of women’s clothing: jeans, shirt, leather jacket, and socks, with a pair of new tennis shoes resting on top of it all.
“Jack,” I said, stopping him halfway to the bathroom door.
“I’m sorry … about the helicopter. And … pushing you off.”
I had so much more to say than that, so much more to ask about the way he closed me off, the veil he put up, how he shut down after I’d done it. But there wasn’t time for all that now.
Jack shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s over. Done.”
I couldn’t tell the expression on his face as he left the bathroom. Relief? Longing? What? It reminded me that I knew very little about what went on in Jack’s head and that the mask he’d put in place when I pushed him from the helicopter hadn’t budged an inch.
*
Jack waited silently outside the bathroom door while I pulled on the clothes he’d brought. I had no idea how he intended for us to get out of here.
I swung the bathroom door open, wearing the jeans, black t-shirt, and running shoes.
“Jewels on the butt? Really?” I said.
Jack shrugged and pushed past me into the bathroom. “They’re designer. Would you have preferred a leather miniskirt?” He made his way to the window above the toilet.
I snorted. “Would you?”
He glanced back at me, the hint of a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”
“I could have worn that wretched dress, and we’d be outside already, you know.”
“No, we needed that for someone else.”
Someone else?
“Who?” I said.
“For Sari.”
“Sari?”
“Yeah, Sari. The mannequin who’s riding on the back of Beckett’s motorcycle, pretending to be you.”
66
IMOGEN
The guard brought me another apple and some crackers.
So much for meal changes.
Bert brought me some lotion. My hands burned after I applied it. I tried to twiddle them. I couldn’t. They hurt too badly.
Bert stood over Finn’s bed.
He’d also brought a vial of liquid for Finn and was administering it, drop by tedious drop, into Finn’s mouth. He’d been working on it for half an hour and was only a little over halfway through.
That same guard stood by the door.
I could take him in five seconds, if not for my hands. Maybe even with my hands. I might try, if it weren’t for Bert and the help he offered to Finn at the moment.
I stared down at my hands, observing the way the skin had dried so completely. I had deep grooves in the skin; the cracks turned into craters over the last twelve hours.
Jack and Beckett should have made it out of there by now. Why hadn’t I heard news? The gala started a full five hours ago.
Once Bert left, I’d finish my lock pick, I’d figure out a way to pack up Finn on my back, and then Finn and I were out of here.
My head jerked up when the door swung open and another guard entered.
The guard went straight for Bert and grabbed his arms. Bert was right in the middle of administering a drop.
“Alright, buddy, that’s a wrap. No more play time. You’re going back to the basement.”
Bert’s eyes widened. “Wait! Please! I’m not finished!”
The other guard helped now, pulling Bert toward the door. Bert pleaded, the liquid in the glass vial sloshing menacingly.
“Wait, please! Just let me say goodbye to him! Let me say goodbye to my son!”
Excuse me?
Son?
A million things clicked together all at once, snippets of the last twenty-four hours: Bert, Finn, the guards, the absent Dr. Cunningham.
Yes. Yes, of course.
His son.
And they were taking Bert away.
That did it for me.
I shoved myself up from the ground and took a step toward the mob of bodies.
My hands might hurt, but my body was created for moments like this.
The entire scene paused, as if in perfect clarity. My brain transformed a split-second into minutes, so I could process everything I’d just seen and heard and learned.
To trust or not trust Bert? Trust.
To trust or not trust the man who claimed to be Dr. Cunningham? Not trust.
To take out the guards? Yes.
Administer the liquid to Finn? Yes.
To get out of here now? Definitely.
My mind never failed me in these moments. I knew exactly what my body would do before the motion even manifested in my body.
I stiff-armed the guard coming at me and hit him right in the nose. He dropped to the floor, just as I expected. My hand screamed in pain.
The other guard, still holding Bert, released the doctor and charged me.
The guard’s feet were out from underneath him before he even realized it had happened.
Bert poured the liquid into Finn’s mouth, faster now, trickle by trickle.
Finn choked, gurgled. But swallowed, I think.
Here’s the thing though: I didn’t expect six more guys.
I hadn’t seen six guys total in this place the whole time we’d been here. I didn’t know they even had that many people on site.
One grabbed Bert, the vial not yet fully empty.
My body put up a good fight for me.
My punches tore the cracks in my hands, turning them into full gashes.
My skin bled.
It wasn’t pretty, but I went down fighting. That’s as good as I can ever say.
67
BECKETT
This dress.
Why did it feel like Sari was really alive? Her limbs kept moving like she was fighting against me. The dress kept sliding down off her arm while I tried to put on the leather jacket. When I finally got the jacket on, my frustration had risen so high, I was fuming.
And I still had the boots and gloves to go.
I slammed my butt down on top of Sari, black boot in hand, and yanked it onto her leg.
The plastic at her hip joint cracked.
Sorry, Sari.
The good news?
Sari and I were making such a commotion that it wouldn’t be long before I attracted every security guard within a two mile radius straight to the trees where I was hiding. That was only good because we wanted all attention on us.
After she was dressed and loaded onto the motorcycle.
The Golden Order Page 17