Unspoken Promises (Echo Valley #1)

Chapter 1

1

My first act of rebellion started with a library card.

It was like finding a spoon after years in prison. I used it wisely. I dug and dug with that dull, blunt end until I finally found light on the other side. I could almost laugh at Father’s oversight. So simple.

Fourteen years of captivity shattered by a piece of plastic.

Sitting in my college library, the one place I’m ever allowed to be alone, it occurs to me how insane that sounds. I thought I would have needed something much bigger to escape Father’ s clutches.

My mouse moves more slowly as those words play over in my mind.

Fourteen years.

Has it really been that long since my mom left me at some strange place in Oregon, telling me Father would take care of me? Have fourteen years really passed since eleven-year-old me played hopscotch with Maddy Granger and fed fish sticks to my stray cat Fuzzy?

Maybe it’s a trauma response to blank out the past. Mom’s abandonment and leaving me without a trace with a man who she told me is my father, who I never saw before and have never seen since, isn’t something I like to think about. Over the years, when questions arose in my mind about why I was inside the walls of his compound, it made me so sick I’d lose sleep. It took a whole two years to stop thinking this father of mine would ever show his face. Never once in all those years did he appear. It took even longer to let go of the hope Mom might actually return for me. She never did.

I thought a lot of things would never happen, including me ever seeing the outside world, but here I am.

Father wrote me a letter to tell me college was my reward. After completing a number of special tasks for Father’s cybersecurity team, he wrote me to say I was ready to leave. I was ready to experience more of what the world has to offer. And he congratulated me for being accepted into a master’s program I didn’t even know I applied for.

As the computer screen shuts down and goes black in front of me, the irony doesn’t escape me that I’ll leave here before taking my reward. I won’t be staying to get my college degree. It’s laughable really. Father seemed to be offering me freedom, but he sent me here being watched just as much and by the same person who has always kept me .

Anton.

He’s been watching my every move since I was left at Father’s. Anton never told me if he was one of Father’s men, like the ones who walked around with large guns, stalking the walled perimeter. He never told me anything about his past, but one thing is for sure, he’s enjoyed this short time in Southern California as much as I have.

Thinking about him standing out there in the hallway, waiting for me patiently, an ache travels through my gut. Once I leave, I’ll probably never see him again. To cover my tracks, I can’t leave a single crumb.

I’ll never forget the day this man sat beside me on a bench at Father’s compound.

He seemed so old then. But now that I realize he’s probably only in his early forties, it makes me sad to think that this man who represents the only family I’ve had for over a decade, lost many of his years to Father’s clutches, too.

It’s dangerous to think of Anton as my friend, but he is the closest thing I ever had to one. Saying it hurts, but in those dark moments of the night where I can’t sleep, I know in many ways, I’m closer to Anton as a family member than I ever was to my mother.

Even though him coming with me to college meant I still wouldn’t have my freedom, I still wanted him here. In those days where my mind swirled with what was to come, I considered that maybe this was the first time in fourteen years that Anton would taste freedom, too. His life is as stunted and small as my own, even smaller maybe.

Unlike me, who had teachers with PhDs and computers, every book imaginable, and plenty to keep my mind occupied at all times, Anton only had, well, me. Because there was nothing but watching me twenty-four seven in Anton’s life, I suppose it’s why he took an interest .

When I’d hack a system my teachers set for me and they never expected me to, the corner of his mouth would twitch with pride. In fact, in all those years of work and play, he was the only person who ever rewarded me with genuine, heartfelt praise.

He would place his hands on my shoulders, turn me to him and say, “Are you proud?”

I’d never been able to say yes.

He’d tousle my hair, and there was no mistaking the paternal glint in his eye. “You should be.”

Anton obeyed Father as diligently as I did, but over time, it didn’t feel like Anton kept me prisoner. In fact, I never would have smiled during those years in Oregon without him. Not that he was funny. Quite the opposite, he is a very serious man, always on high alert. I laughed around him anyway because he was the butt of my jokes and took them on the chin allowing humor to come alive in our sober lives. It was impossible not to care about him after all these years of doing everything from dawn to dusk together.

I do care about him, even though I always wonder if he knows what Father is using me for. It kills thinking he might actually know and has never told me. But now, at twenty-five, I know whatever my utility to Father and these teachers, it can’t be good. Good men don’t keep girls locked up. Even if I did have everything I ever needed, I traded poverty for freedom.

Not that I had a say in Mom leaving me there.

The only good thing to come of my captivity has been Anton. He talks to me and spends more time with me than my mom ever did. Sometimes, though he’s never said it, I think he even loves me. That’s why now that I’m ready to escape Father, the feeling isn’t anything like betrayal. But with Anton? I’ll never stop wishing I could bring him with me. I want to see him live his life, too. Get that Bernese Mountain Dog he always wanted. Or get married. If he had a baby, it would be like I had a sister.

I always wanted a sibling.

What will happen to Anton when Father realizes I’m gone?

Father had people killed by his men. I saw it with my own eyes. Down in the basement that smelled like gunpowder and chlorine. His men told me I was ordered to watch what happens to people who disobey Father’s orders.

Anton told me I’m precious to those who keep me. He told me I’m prized. Valued. I think he hoped those comments would make me feel better about my whole life being controlled, but it only made me feel like a work of art. And not even a good one. A scribble on a canvas everyone overvalued just because one man decided it so.

Father.

Anton may have become warm over the years, but he never stopped warning me there were dangerous people watching. He warned me never to try to leave. I believed him because he never tried to leave.

Whoever they were couldn’t watch me in the library. But they were such excellent teachers I knew how to cover my tracks. They didn’t even know that in my first week, I managed to hack the university’s database and get a new library card and student ID bearing the name of a woman who will have it all.

Freedom.

And more.

Ava Scott. She’s waiting for me to bring her to life on the outside .

I check my watch. Fifty-eight minutes. Anton is waiting. He’s not allowed in here without a student ID so after each hour, I need to check in. He’ll be tapping his toe.

My eyes are trained on the screen in front of me. I’ve done it. My plan is complete. Without a single trace, I won a job and a place to live. All I have to do is get out of our apartment tonight and get to Echo Valley.

I tear out the notes from a page in my journal and rip up the piece of paper I used for shorthand. I throw my backpack over my shoulder and toss the shreds of evidence in two different trash cans on my way out.

Anton is in his usual position, leaning against a wall, cross-armed. He never sits. He never reads a paper. Not even when I spend hours in this library. I’m surprised there aren’t Anton-shaped feet imprinted at the entrance.

We reunite and head toward the exit.

“So little Menace… Fruitful session?” he asks, breath smelling strong of the mints he devours.

I’ve always liked the way Anton smells. Clean. And like Drakkar Noir. He’s been wearing that same cologne since I’ve known him. A heavy feeling sits on my shoulders. I wish he could find love like I hope to. I bet some woman would love those smells, and he’s a pretty handsome guy.

Guilt rages through me. My heart pounds. “Yeah.” It’s all I can muster. Usually, I talk a lot. But now, any word that makes it to my tongue is nothing but a lie.

I hate I have to betray Anton to do this, but there’s no other way.

I change the subject to food which we discuss a lot because eating is one of the only things we do together for fun. Since being out in real life, I go to school, we watch movies, Anton trains me in the gym, and we go to the grocery store. We cook together .

“I feel like fish tonight,” I offer, trying to sound normal.

He’s so tuned in to me, as I am to him, after all these years together. Can he detect the change in me?

If he notices something he doesn’t flag it. “Fish tacos?”

I hang on to the straps on my backpack for support. “Always down for tacos.”

We get to the road, and as we do, I stop while he looks, and only when he decides it’s clear, he places his vigilant hand on my back and ushers me across preciously like he has since I was a child.

He breathes the summery autumn air in deeply. “You know, I think tacos are the best thing about Southern California.”

I suppose they are, seeing as neither Anton nor myself have left campus to stare at the ocean, ski in the mountains, pretend we’re on the face of the sun in the crackling heat of the Mojave. Sadness fills my every vein. Anton will probably never do these things, and maybe I will.

A stone forms in my throat, and when he talks about trying a new spice mix he saw at the store, all I can do is nod.

Later that night, I sneak into the living room that separates my room from Anton’s. It still smells of tilapia and smoked chipotle, the lingering scent of our quiet dinner together made stronger by a warm evening and Anton locking the windows up before bed. Like he always does.

My heart races, my pulse pounds in my neck; it’s impossible to swallow down the thick anticipation .

When we moved here from the compound, I couldn’t sleep, and Anton gave me sleeping pills. I’ve been saving those. Tonight, I crushed one and sprinkled it in the guacamole made extra spicy, only I was the one sweating when I wondered if it would taste bitter or if it would even work.

Now, hours later, staring at the door on the opposite side of the room, I struggle to stop my hands shaking. I only crushed one pill. Sleeping pills aren’t meant to be crushed. They release too quickly like that. I don’t want to hurt Anton. He’s a beast of a man. Six foot seven and pure muscle; he won’t die. Equally, would just one pill work? If he’s not knocked out, he will hear me. Despite how I’ve come to see him, Anton is no teddy bear.

He’s always treated me like a daughter. And one time, when I was thirteen, one of Father’s leery guards put his arm around my shoulder. Anton swept out his legs so fast, the guy’s eyes hardly blinked once before he was on the ground and Anton’s hand was clenched around his throat.

I’m terrified of Anton catching me leaving for so many reasons. Will I be caught and sent to that basement? What would Anton think of me betraying him… If he’s my only family, I’m must be his. My eyes sting, and I squeeze them tightly.

I’m sorry, friend.

I draw in a deep breath, darting my eyes across the shadows again. Even though it considerably lowers my chances of getting away, I test the waters and toss a book out of my bedroom onto the floor with a thud, then quickly close my door. I urge the breath heaving my chest up to slow. I try to listen through the drum beneath my sternum, but my heartbeat is louder than anything .

I circle the key to our apartment in my hand over and over, nervous energy twirling it around in my fingers, waiting for Anton to investigate the thud. This key was a lapse in judgment for Anton a couple weeks ago. I told him I needed a copy in case of emergency. Never did I abuse it. He won’t suspect a thing tonight.

I press my ear to the door.

Not a sound.

My hand shakes as I reach for the handle, push it down, and crack the door as quietly as I can. Through the tiniest sliver possible, I peek.

Darkness invites my escape.

Mustering up courage, I open the door wide enough for my body. The night is still. I’m silent and unmoving for what feels like a century waiting for the moment I’ll make my break. I check my watch. 11:05. The bus will be here any minute.

Just under our kitchen window is a bus stop. It’s so loud it rumbles the apartment multiple times a day. It will mask any creak of floorboards, the click of the external door lock…

I run through the things I’ve packed. Clothes. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. My IDs. All of them, because leaving behind the old ones would be too telling. I go over the route to the bus station once again. My heart hits my rib cage so hard it’s painful, so I take a deep breath, and when I open my eyes, I catch sight of my birthday present to Anton. His cologne. A lump forms in my throat. Should I leave it for him? Or take it with me to remind me of him? There’s no time to hesitate… I snatch the already wrapped cologne off my dresser and shove it in my backpack just as the whirr of the bus’s engine grows louder .

When the walls begin to indicate the earthquake at the bus stop below, I zip my bag and throw it over my shoulder, dart out into the kitchen as softly as possible in my socks. I reach into Anton’s coat pocket and don’t even count the cash I steal from his wallet, but it’s a thick wad so it gives me hope. There’s no time to care, I just need to leave.

While the bus rumbles and shakes our thin walls, the hydraulics make a loud hissing sound when the driver opens the door. I grab my boots and click open the locks to our apartment.

I shove my feet into my Doc Martens, not bothering to lace them, and race down the hallway and finally out into the darkness of a warm autumn night. It’s hard to run, air doesn’t breathe easily into my lungs, and my throat is tight with heartache, tears, and plenty of fear.

If Father catches me, I’ll certainly be punished. Maybe even killed.

Any person who has as much control over a powerful man like Anton must be a force like a tsunami. And Anton warned me many, many times, with a grave gaze, never to leave. I’ve never been able to confirm who my father is but I watched Narcos enough times to think he’s some sort of cartel leader. Or a mobster. Maybe, I’ll never find out. Or maybe, when I meet him for the first time, I’ll also be meeting my end.

Still, when I arrive at the Greyhound bus station and finally count my money, I still feel Anton’s warm fingers on the bills. I stole five hundred and fifty dollars from my only friend. Stealing is a mosquito bite compared to what else I might have done to him.

I might have gotten him killed, too.

I can’t think about it or I’ll turn back. I get behind another man waiting to buy a ticket at the kiosk, but the thought of what will happen to Anton won’t stop digging its claws into my chest.

No. They won’t kill Anton. Not right away.

Because as the only person who truly knows me, he’d be the best person to find me.