Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Briar
“ I f that’s your final answer—” Mr. Smith says, speaking for the first time today and glancing from me to his assistant, “then you’d better get on with it, Chloe. We haven’t got all day.”
“Yes, sir.” Chloe hops off the table, landing lightly, despite her six-inch-high heels.
Mr. Smith’s words sound vaguely familiar, and I’m backing away from Chloe before I realize what it is exactly: that’s what he’d said to Chloe back in his office on Earth all those days ago when he’d given her the go-ahead to knock me unconscious.
“What the fuck?” I demand, keeping the empty chair between me and Chloe. Why did it never occur to me that if they’d been willing to kidnap me once, they might kidnap me a second time. “I’m not going anywhere with you two.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Mr. Smith doesn’t even look at me as he speaks, just presses a couple of buttons on his tablet.
“Yes, I do. And I’m choosing not to be abducted today, thank you very much.”
The red lights on the cameras all switch off.
“Turn them back on!” Not something I thought I’d be demanding, but here we are.
Predictably, he doesn’t listen. So I glance around the room, searching for a possible weapon I can use to defend myself. The table and bench are empty; what little Sorin has left in his kitchen has all been neatly put away into drawers and cupboards. I should know; I was the one who cleaned up after he made us dinner last night.
Alternatively, that also means there’s no paperweight for Chloe to deck me with. She’s as empty handed as I am.
I grab hold of the chair. It’s big, heavy and unwieldy, having been made for a Ril’os to use, not a Human. Still, when Chloe lunges at me, I manage to thrust the seat corner into her stomach.
She doubles over, coughing and spluttering. I abandon the chair and sprint for the drawer I know the one and only knife lives in. Immediately she’s following, and my hands are shaking as I realize she was fake coughing, hoping to catch me off guard.
I ran right into her trap.
She grabs my shoulder in one clawed hand, using our forward momentum to shove me into the counter. It’s my stomach this time that hits the sharp edge, and I swear my eyes are trying to pop out of my face I’m having that much trouble drawing breath.
The bitch winded me. I drop to my knees, my legs giving way, my arms around my stomach as I try and fail to fill my lungs with air. Fucking, fucking hell! Is this how I die?
Grabbing me under one arm, Chloe tries hauling me to my feet. Mr. Smith grunts before reluctantly grabbing hold of my other arm to help.
My head spins. I’m on the verge of blacking out.
Then, all of a sudden, my lungs expand, and I draw in a gasping breath. The relief is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’m so focused on my breathing that I don’t even try to fight them as they drag me toward the ladder.
The idiots obviously didn’t think about how they were going to heave my dead weight up said ladder. It’s not like I’m going to help them in my own abduction, and so when they push me against the rungs, I let my knees go weak again.
Chloe kicks me.
And oh my God, it hurts! Six-inch-heels are no fucking joke. She could probably kill me with them and not get any blood on her hands.
“Alright!” I scramble upright, wincing with pain, and climb into the small room above ground, the one with all the windows and the single door that leads out into the wind. I grab hold of the doorhandle, intending to rush outside and escape, but where the fuck would I go? There’s literally nothing out there but wind and dust. And isn’t outside exactly where they’re taking me? For what purpose?
Turning back around, I race for the trapdoor, intending to close it, but Chloe has already scrambled up, and she throws herself at me. I’m taller and heavier, and I push her out of my way, but not before Mr. Smith reaches for the final rung of the ladder.
I stamp down on his head. Unfortunately, Chloe realizes what I’m doing, and she crashes into me again, knocking me sideways before I can exert much force onto Mr. Smith. There’s a crash and a curse, though, as he falls, but I can’t have done enough damage to incapacitate him because a moment later he starts climbing again.
“Where the fuck are you taking me?” I demand. Out one window, I can see their spaceship. It’s parked a few meters away, its gangplank lowered out its butt. Whatever happens, I can’t let them herd me into it.
“If you’re so clever,” Chloe pants, sweat dampening her hair, “work it out yourself.”
“Not back to Earth,” I guess. The twenty days aren’t up, and filming hasn’t finished. And not back to the main house either; that wouldn’t reward the amount of effort they’re putting into my capture. Besides, if they dragged me kicking and screaming to the main house, Sorin would lose his shit. And I don’t doubt the others would too. Mr. Smith and Chloe won’t want to risk the others all refusing to continue filming.
Sorin. My heart aches thinking of him. “You’re going to dump me somewhere outside and make it look like I tried running away.” They couldn’t goad me into breaking up with Sorin, so now they’re going to goad Sorin into … what? Panicking about where I am? Searching for me?
No. Mr. Smith can’t risk Sorin finding me alive and finding out what really happened.
“You’re going to kill me.” Buzzing fills my head until I can hardly hear myself think. “You’re going to kill me and break Sorin’s heart on intergalactic TV.”
“Get her into the ship,” Mr. Smith screams, trying to crowd me toward the door.
Sorin. He’s going to think that I abandoned him. He’s going to think I wanted to leave so badly that I risked my life to get away. My whole body’s shaking with the horror of what’s happening. I’m scared for myself. I’m terrified for Sorin.
I don’t want to leave.
I don’t ever want to leave.
Oh, Sorin. This is my home. I was just too stupid to realize it sooner.
The classic you-don’t-know-what-you’ve-got-until-it’s-gone moment. Or, more accurately, you-don’t-know-what-you’ve-got-until-a-chauvinistic-dickhead-and-their-psychotic-secretary-tries-stealing-it moment.
Chloe yanks the door open. Wind rushes inside, tugging at our hair and clothing. She staggers forward, head bowed against the strength of the air, and tries to pull me along after her.
For once, the wind is working in my favor, and I wrench my arm out of Chloe’s hold, right as Mr. Smith straightens. He braces himself against the far wall and shoves me hard, back toward Chloe and the open door. She’s making wild grabbing gestures, trying to catch hold of me. It’s a complete and utter shit show. The worst attempt at an abduction I’ve ever seen. (And I’ve seen two now, so I think I’m a fairly good judge.)
Until— “Release my Mate!”
Sorin!