5. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Jacob
I almost lost it.
I follow Kendrick woodenly into his office, taking deep breaths and counting in the way Grandad taught me all those years ago, In—one, two, three. Out—four, five, six. Over and over.
It's been a long time since I lost control of myself. Today isn’t going to be that day, no matter what.
Kendrick holds the door open for me, then shuts it with a resounding click as I make my way over to his desk and thump down in one of his uncomfortable chairs. I can feel every beat of my heart. Blood is pumping through my veins faster than it should be, and I need it to slow down. The most important thing is a clear head.
“Brandy or whisky?” Kendrick asks, brandishing two decanters. At this point, I’d take neat vodka, but I bite down a sharp comment and say, “Whisky.” He hands me the glass, and I down half of it in one go. It burns going down but doesn’t calm me as I was hoping. If anything, the slight buzz sets me more on edge.
I wait in silence. Most people can’t abide a silent room, and it makes them weak negotiators. They’ll say anything just to break an awkward silence. Me? I’ll stay silent for days if I have to. Kendrick can say whatever the hell he needs to say.
He takes a large swallow of his own drink, sets it down on his enormous desk, then takes a deep breath. “Jacob. I can’t apologize enough. In the six years I’ve led the Brotherhood, we’ve never had an incident like this. Not once. It’s our mistake, and we’ll rectify it as soon as reasonably possible. You’ll have your desired Ward.”
I finish my drink, and the heat swirls through me. I rarely touch spirits outside of Kendrick’s office, and I never drink enough to lose my senses. I’ve seen what it does to people too many times. Right now, though, I can see the appeal of flooring the entire bottle.
In Kendrick’s mind, this is simple. They made a mistake, and they’ll fix it. It’s a temporary delay to my plans—nothing more. But I force myself to ask the question I don’t want to know the answer to. “The girl they took by mistake. What will happen to her?”
Kendrick shakes his head sadly. “It’s a very unfortunate business. I can see right away she doesn’t have the temperament to be a contented Ward. After so many years, you get a sense for these things."
He picks up his glass and stares into the depths of it. “I have a few Brothers in mind who might be up for the challenge. Edward Collins lost his Ward two years ago and recently expressed that he might be ready to take on a new girl. She’ll need a very firm hand, and he’s a strict disciplinarian.”
A heavy rock lands in my gut. Edward is a smug arsehole, and I’ve overheard him being a dick to the staff in the refectory. He’s a loudmouth bully, and he’s also pushing sixty. “Isn’t she a bit young for him?”
Kendrick shrugs. “It’s a bit of a mismatch, but he might make it work. Someone will have to. We can’t keep her in detention forever. It might take a while, but I’ll find someone to take her on. Older Brothers are better for the spirited ones anyway. More experienced. Less likely to fall for their tricks.”
“Can't you just scare the shit out of her and let her go? It's not like she knows where she is.”
“If she'd been drugged, as per our usual protocol, then yes. But not now. She's seen too much.”
The undercurrent is clear. If I hadn't insisted on doing things my way, they wouldn't have this problem at all. And the girl, whoever she is, would be waking up in some hospital somewhere instead of spending the rest of her life here.
Fuck.
Still not my bloody problem.
I think the words, but they don’t ring true. All I can picture is the girl’s face right after I stopped Brackis from choking her. Her blue eyes scorched me, full of pure rage. She wants to escape more than anything. She’ll kill to get out of this place.
I chose Suzy specifically because this life would suit her. I found her online, in a discussion forum aimed at master/slave relationships, and she already craved what I planned to give her.
This girl is the opposite of that. Wild energy crackled off her as she struggled with Brackis. She isn’t meant to be caged, and I’ve indirectly doomed her to that fate.
I know nothing about her, but the idea of Kendrick palming her off on some mean, geriatric bastard makes me nauseous.
So keep her yourself. She needs a firm hand. Give it to her.
There’s a part of me, buried so deep I barely recognize it, that surges at the thought. I squash it as quickly as it surfaces. No. I don’t want a woman who will fight me, I want one who will find the life she’s always wanted. I need a willing slave, not a fucking brat. And this woman isn’t my responsibility.
“Fine. See if Edward will take her, then.”
Kendrick nods as if that settles the issue entirely. “Good. I’ll make a plan with Brackis to extract your true Ward. There won’t be any more mistakes. I promise.”
I nod, suddenly drained, and stand. I raise a hand at Kendrick and stomp out of his office. Seb is waiting for me down the gloomy wood-paneled corridor, tapping anxiously on his phone. He jumps when I clap him on the shoulder and says, “There you are. That was quick.”
“Not much to discuss really. They’re going to make a plan to get Suzy for me soon.”
I set off walking, desperate for the outside world. This part of the Compound, where everything is old and dreary, makes me feel claustrophobic. It reminds me of boring school trips to the local museum when I was a kid.
Seb matches my fast pace. “What about the other girl? Gabriel says she's chatting with Eve now. They’re trying to get her calmed down. Her name's Quinn.”
It's a stab in the chest, followed by a horrible unfurling of something cloying that constricts my breathing. Quinn. She has a name. She's a person who, until today, had a life all of her own. And now she's going to be handed over to some cruel dickhead.
I picture Edward, the Brother Kendrick mentioned. He's bald except for a sweaty comb-over and wears his trousers yanked up high like Simon bloody Cowell.
That bright, fierce girl, spending her days servicing him.
What, and servicing you would be better?
Maybe.
Fuck.
I stop dead, and Seb takes a few paces onward before he grinds to a halt. “What's wrong?”
“I want to see her.”
Seb frowns. “Why?”
Good question. “I don't know. Just come on.”
Sharp as always, Seb leaps to the right conclusion. “Wait. You're not thinking of keeping her?”
“No. Well. Look, I'm not sure. Kendrick wants to give her to Edward.”
Seb pulls a face. “But he's ancient.”
“I know. It don't feel right.”
Sweat sticks my shirt to my body, and my accent has got thicker, which only happens when I'm stressed. Years of giving academic presentations smoothed the rough edges off my speech, but they come back when I'm under pressure.
Seb grips my shoulder. “Look. It's bad, but none of this is your fault. You deserve the Ward you wanted. We can talk to Kendrick again and see if he can find someone more suitable for her.”
“Like who? There’s not many Brothers without Wards, and they’re all ancient. Well, except Kendrick. And I can't see him taking her on.”
“No.”
We both fall silent, searching for a good solution that doesn't exist. I set off again, this time toward the detention cells. “I just want to talk to her.”
Seb lets out a long breath, but follows.
The detention block is underneath main admin, tucked away like a dungeon. It's rarely used but still has a guard stationed there twenty-four hours a day, just in case. The guard stops us with a raised hand. “Sorry Sir. No-one is to go in.”
“Call Kendrick.”
One of the things I admire about security here is that they're impossible to bully or distract. They follow their orders to perfection. There's no point wasting time arguing with this man when only someone higher in his chain of command will change his mind. It doesn't get any higher than Kendrick.
The young guard hesitates. “I don't want to disturb him if it's not…”
“It’s urgent. Call him now. Put me onto him directly please.”
The guard pauses a second longer, then nods. He picks up the phone. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. I have Jacob West at the detention block, and he says it's urgent.”
He passes me the phone.
“Jacob. What's the issue?” Polite but irritated. He'd already marked me off his plate for the day.
“I want to speak to the new prisoner, sir.”
A long pause. “Why?”
Saying the words out loud makes them real. “I want to determine if she’ll be suitable as my Ward after all.”
This time, the pause is heavy. “Jacob, don't be a martyr. Knowing your temperament as I do, she's a poor choice. I don't want to see you distracted and unhappy. Please stay focused on the important work you're doing.”
My words come out level, though it’s a struggle. “I'm aware of that, but it's my decision to make. Now please instruct the guard to let me through.”
The please fucking hurt, but getting into a battle with Kendrick won't end well for anyone but him. He sighs.
“Make the decision quickly. If you want your original choice, we need to take her soon, before this other girl’s disappearance becomes common knowledge. Otherwise, she’ll be on high alert, and there will be too much media coverage. I need to know today.”
Today? I'm supposed to make a decision that will shape the rest of my life in a couple of hours? I'm used to making choices fast, but I'd expected a few days, at least, to think.
I'm insane for even considering this. Hopefully seeing her will cure me of the notion.
The guard leads me into the detention cells. Gabriel and Brackis stand outside a plexiglass window, staring into a small, bare room. Eve and Quinn sit at a bolted down metal table—the only piece of furniture in the room. A platter of fruit, bread, and meat sits between them, and they pick at it as they talk.
Gabriel’s eyes widen when he sees me. “Hey. You okay?”
“Been better. Eve been in there long?”
“About twenty minutes. It’s all being recorded.”
Brackis eyes me but doesn’t say anything. Good. I don’t want to hear from him right now. I don’t know why his handling of the girl pissed me off so much—it’s not like I haven’t seen much worse—but he reminds me of some of the jumped-up little pricks I met in the army. The sort who use power as an excuse to bully others.
All three of us stare at the girls in silence, and I let myself focus on the woman I can’t help but feel responsible for. I’m the reason she’s here. Indirectly, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about it.
She’s pale, and dark blue circles ring her eyes, giving them a bruised look. Her cheekbones stand out, and her lips are full in her delicate face. She’s not the sort of pretty that catches your eye immediately, but the more I look at her, the more I want to keep on doing it. There’s something fascinating about her face, her eyes most of all.
They’re icy cold blue, but there’s a sparkle in them even though she looks knackered. If her hair wasn’t dyed that crazy pink color, I’m sure she’d be blond. That super pale Scandinavian look. She’s still wearing the hoodie that caused all the trouble, and it drowns her. She’s tiny.
I’ve always liked girls with a bit of meat on their bones. Strong enough that I’m not worried about breaking them when I throw them around the bedroom. This girl isn’t my type at all, but I’m still staring. My eyes haven’t left her once.
Gabriel clears his throat awkwardly. “So, what’s the plan? Has Kendrick decided what he’s going to do with her yet?”
Edward flashes before my eyes again, and the image of him nauseates me. She deserves better. She deserves fucking better than being palmed off on some arsehole.
“Depends. I’m going to have a little chat with her.” I don’t stop staring even as I answer Gabriel.
She wouldn’t be a willing submissive. There’s no way. But even the most stubborn person can be taught how to behave with the right encouragement. There’s no one in this whole fucking Compound better trained to handle a badly behaved girl than me. I could make her submit. And, just maybe, I might be able to make her like it, too.
For one long moment, I let my darkest fantasies swirl to the surface. Not the peaceful training of a willing sub, but the careful breaking in of an unwilling one. Using all my skills to mold her into what I need.
I haven’t let myself think about that in a long time, and when I do, a dangerous spike of heat stabs my guts. I could do it. But do I want to?
The right solution presents itself on a silver fucking platter.
I’m going to give this girl one last choice before she loses control of her life forever.