Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chloe
“Bruce?”
The name burned in my mouth like acid, my heart thundered so loud I could barely hear my own voice.
A slow, sick laugh crawled through the speaker.
“Miss me?” He asked, his tone pure mockery. “Or were you hoping to hear someone else?”
He had Malia. He had my sister.
“Where’s Malia?” I snapped, my voice breaking, panic rising high. “What the hell did you do to her?!”
Another laugh, lower and colder this time.
“She’s with me… for now.”
My knees nearly gave out. I stumbled back against the door, gripping the knob for support.
He had her. No. no. no. no.
“If you want to see your sister, how about a family reunion?”
My pulse thundered. “What?”
“Things ended so… abruptly, don’t you think?” He asked, though it wasn’t really a question. “And after everything I did for you. All those years I fed you, clothed you, protected you. That’s no way to treat family.”
Nails bit into my palms. “You’re not family.”
He said nothing but I swear I could feel his vicious smile through the speaker.
“You have… Let’s say, two hours to get here.”
“You want me to leave this place?!” My voice cracked as I forced my brain to keep up with the words though everything felt more and more like a bad dream. “Are you out of your mind? You know who you sold me to. They’ll shoot me the second I step near that gate!”
“Who said anything about a gate?” He asked sarcastically, almost playful, before continuing. “Go to the northeast side of the garden, behind the willow tree you’ll find some loose bricks. Use them to climb out.”
Loose bricks?
“And well, you’re a smart woman, Chloe. You’ll figure out the rest.”
Tears stung my eyes, hot and blinding. “I need more time. Please—don’t hurt her. She did nothing wrong.”
His silence stretched cruelly, making my heart stop completely before he spoke again. “The clock is ticking, and Malia is waiting. Oh, and don’t try anything funny, otherwise… She’ll be packed up, shipped out like the rest of them.”
“Two hours, max.” He repeated and then, the line went dead.
I stood frozen in the hallway, phone still pressed to my ear, the silence roaring louder than his voice ever could. My breath came in short bursts, my vision blurred, my hands started to shake.
Stupid… I was so stupid to think it was all over. There’s no ‘over’ with Bruce. I’ll never be free of him…. Not completely… There’ll always be a higher price to pay.
I stared at the stolen phone in my hand, my pulse hammering against my ribs so hard it hurt.
He had her. He had Malia.
Panic clawed up my throat, leaving me gasping.
Think, Chloe. Think.
Zane had left the house hours ago and he’d taken most of his men with him. He wouldn’t do that unless something was happening outside, maybe at the warehouse. Which meant fewer men were guarding the house. If there was ever a chance to leave this place, it had to be now.
I bolted inside my bedroom, heading straight to the window to spot the men who were doing the round tonight, already knowing Ivar was with Zane and Andy had left with Jane.
So, that left maybe four men inside, and I already knew their routine.
Around this time they always split. For ten, maybe fifteen minutes, only two would be on patrol while the others headed to the staff house to eat before switching again.
That was my window. My only shot.
I waited, pacing in my room, counting down the minutes, anxiously waiting for the right time. Then, I heard them walking inside the house.
Now.
Adrenaline spiked through me like electricity. I slipped out into the hall and when I reached the bottom of the stairs, I spotted two of Zane’s men walking in, heading to the kitchen. Perfect.
I hugged the wall and waited with the heart lodged in my throat, while every tiny sound in the house seemed to be amplifying. One wrong step and they’d drag me back upstairs—or worse, straight to Zane.
When they finally disappeared around the corner, I snuck outside, pulling the door shut behind me as quietly as I could.
Then I remembered the cameras; there were cameras along the drive.
There had to be, so I hugged the walls and moved quickly, using the shadows and the bushes the same way the intruder had that night, praying no one was watching the monitors for the next two minutes.
Branches clawed at my clothes and stabbed my skin like needles as I crawled between them, biting back a hiss of pain, until I finally reached behind the willow tree in the darkest edge of the property and started following Bruce instructions.
My trembling fingers searched the fence wall until they felt the edges of the loose bricks.
One, two, three. I pulled them out, stacking them on the damp grass.
The wall looked taller, more imposing than I remembered but I didn’t let it stop me.
My feet squeezed into the gaps in the wall as my hands reached for the tree branches to pull myself up and help me with the climb.
I couldn’t even tell if my heart was still beating, I could only feel the bark in my palms. And then, I tumbled hard onto the other side.
Shit.
For a moment, I just lay there in the grass and dirt, gasping for air, forcing myself to keep going before my mind could think. Then—lights.
A pair of beams flashed in the distance like flashlights, cutting through the night between the trees. My stomach coiled. I crouched low, ready to run, but the lights steadied, and it was not a flashlight, it was a car.
My skin crawled as I stumbled toward it, pushing through the underbrush until I reached an old sedan. The driver’s side door was already opened, keys still dangling in the ignition like someone had just left, but there was no one around.
I slid inside and a phone lit up on the console with the GPS already open, coordinates in.
Bruce had planned my escape in detail, too detailed, but I didn’t have time to question it.
My hands closed around the wheel so hard my knuckles ached and I forced myself to take a steadying breath; I turned the key and my throat tightened, bracing myself for the shouts, the running footsteps, gunshots or the bullets hitting the metal—
But there was nothing.
Jesus, what am I doing? This was a stupid move, one that could easily get me killed.
But what other options were there? Doing nothing meant losing Malia forever and there was no time to second-guess it now.
If I got caught, I’d face the consequences because by not doing anything, the consequences would be so much worse.
I slammed my foot on the pedal, following the directions on the GPS, constantly checking the mirrors to make sure no one was tailing me.
I sighed. I couldn’t believe I did it.
It was possible to escape after all.
When I finally pulled up in front of the club, my hands refused to let go of the wheel.
The place was quiet, too quiet.
There was no music thumping through the walls. No bouncers outside smoking. No line of men waiting to be let in.
The place was dead.
I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, forcing myself to breathe, although every instinct was screaming at me to turn around and drive as far away as I could. But Malia needed me, and rationality had left the room long ago.
I stepped out, crossing the deserted street, and when I approached the front entrance, the door was already slightly ajar.
I glanced over my shoulder one last time, half-hoping someone had followed me and would be able to help, but there was no one.
My hand curled around Jane’s phone in my pocket, ready for action in case I needed to call for help before I pushed the door open and slipped inside.
The air was thick with that familiar scent of spilled liquor that never seemed to leave this place. The lights were off, tables covered, chairs stacked as if the club was closed for renovations or something; it felt… wrong.
My shoes clattered across the floor as I passed the empty bar I used to work behind and headed for the back, toward the storage room that hid a stairwell few people even knew existed, knowing he’d be down there.
I stopped at the edge of the open hatch, staring into the black hole in the floor, like I was staring at the gates to a completely different world, before forcing myself to take the first step.
It had been years since I’d gone down there. Years spent doing everything I could to avoid walking this hallway again. Yet here I was, and with every step, the air grew heavier, the memories pressed down hard, making me feel seventeen all over again.
“Welcome back, sweetheart.”
The voice slithered out of the shadows like a snake and Bruce stepped forward, hands tucked casually in his pockets.
“I knew you’d figure it out,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “You were always the smartest one.”
He sounded like a proud father, and it made me sick.
“Where is she?”
He smiled, slow and teasing, as if we had all the time in the world. Then he stepped aside, gesturing toward the open door on his right, instructing me to go in.
I did, stepping into a dimly lit room I’d never walked before. It was empty, save for a thick black curtain hanging from one wall.
We stopped next to it before I turned to him. “Where is she, Bruce?” I snapped, every ounce of fear turning into fury.
I was here. I’d risked everything to be here, and I’d be hunted for it. I didn’t care what happened to me anymore.
He sighed, long and theatrical. “Always so dramatic. She’ll be here, I promise.”
He was stalling. But why?
“What do you want?”
His eyes gleamed. “Information. Access. A little… loyalty.” He stepped closer, and I backed away. “You’re living in Zane’s house, sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes. Surely you’ve heard a thing or two you can share—”
“Leave Zane out of this!” I warned before I could stop the words from coming out.
He chuckled, clearly savoring my distress.
“Why would I do that when he’s the whole reason we’re here?”
My stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”