Chapter 11 #2
His skepticism irks me. I don’t know why, since it’s justified. My father did fuck him over. Peter too. Still, it wasn’t like I did it. Plus, this isn’t a thrill for me either. I work down the frustration as best I can.
“It’s been years since we’ve seen one another, Maverick. You don’t know anything about me, much less whether I’m a good liar,” I murmur, not looking up from the white squares on the floor.
No one really knows me. There’s never been a single person who’s cared enough to try.
“I know you're the daughter of the man who threw my life away because he’s—” Maverick cuts himself off abruptly.
It’s his reluctance to speak about what happened that finally pulls my chin off my chest. When I look over at him, I find Maverick sitting like me, leaning against the wall, but his head is tilted upward so he can glare at the ceiling.
It’s crazy how much time has changed him.
There’s no friendliness or softness anywhere in his expression.
Instead, there’s a cold emptiness etched into his hardened features.
The stiffness in his posture reminds me of a predator holding themselves still just before a strike.
He’s an imposing figure, and the hatred radiating off him… I can admit he intimidates me a bit.
The resolve to save him outweighs the trepidation, though.
“Go on,” I press curiously. “Why are you here, Maverick? Peter didn’t mention why Father put you here.”
“No, he wouldn’t, would he?” Maverick sneers. “That would just make him look even more like a coward than he already is.”
“Was,” I correct in a low whisper. Unable to stomach staring at Maverick when he’s so upset, my eyes travel back down to study the padded floor.
Maverick chuckles. “That’s right, the bastard’s dead. How’d he do it?”
My thoughts shift to my brother. The resentment I’ve carried for him for so long still sits in the middle of my chest. Bitterness pools on my tongue, leaving it dry and uncomfortable.
I wish I could say his suicide note cleared the air between us.
That everything he’d done since the day Maverick was ripped out of our lives suddenly made sense.
It didn’t, though. I hate him probably just as much as Maverick does.
“He hung himself.”
Maverick doesn’t reply. I don’t know whether it’s because he doesn’t care or if he’s considering my answer.
As the silence stretches, the adrenaline begins to wear off.
It’s late… or rather, early. The sun will be rising soon.
Maverick and I should be watching it creep over the trees right now.
Instead, we’re stuck staring at these plain, boring walls.
My eyelids grow heavy. I shift again so I can bring my knees up to rest my cheek on them.
I turn toward Maverick’s profile as he continues to stare up at the ceiling.
“Why did Father send you here, Mavie?” I ask again, fatigue weighing on my words.
Maverick’s jaw works. His face gets redder the longer he goes without speaking. A vein I’d seen back at the church swells along his temple. He seems to grow in size and his body slowly gets stiffer.
I wonder if I should worry.
Instead, I think of the barely contained fury that has radiated from Maverick ever since I stepped into his bedroom this evening.
He’d tried to hide it, but even though we haven’t seen each other in years, I could see and feel it.
The air around him practically trembled with the frantic energy and tasted of fire and brimstone.
That same fury is here now—hot and chaotic—like static over my skin. It’s keeping my heart racing and palms sweaty despite how tired and cold I am. There’s no mistaking the hatred rolling off him and who it’s directed at. I can’t deny I have a nagging suspicion he would hurt me now if he could.
Yet as dangerous as Maverick appears, I can’t find it in me to be scared of him.
It’s kind of ridiculous actually. Maverick has made it very clear since our conversation this afternoon that he loathes me.
From the hands around my neck, to the yelling in my face, then his hands back around my neck when he tackled me in his bedroom, to throwing me into an iron coffin…
yeah, he’s been throwing up red flags for sure. Yet here I am, not scared of him.
Abruptly, Maverick’s head twists around so he can face me.
“Tell me you don’t know what goes on at the docks,” he demands.
His question throws me for a loop. I blink, confused. “Docks? What docks?”
Maverick’s eyes narrow as he studies me. When he doesn’t answer, I sigh loudly.
“Mavie, you’re going to have to give me more than?—”
Maverick’s cold gray eyes drill into my face. “Your dad traffics women, Evie.”
I didn’t realize I was holding any tension in my body until it drops away.
My shoulders sag hard and my mouth pops open while my mind reels.
The air that evaporates from my lungs leaves me feeling lightheaded and ill.
I know Father is a cruel man. I’ve been on the receiving end of that cruelty ever since I can remember.
I’ve seen it extend to Mother and to those who work closely with him.
But this?
Maverick must see the disbelief on my face because he shakes his head, his face twisting up in disgust.
“That night, your father sent me and Peter to an abandoned pier on some forgotten dock. He wanted us to watch the goods while he went to grab someone,” he says.
“So we hung back and waited like fucking idiots for him to return. The armed security, the new shipping container just sitting there… I should’ve asked more questions about the whole situation, but I didn’t.
” Maverick shakes his head, his upper lip peeling back in self-disgust. “While Peter and I were shooting the shit, wasting time, five masked individuals came out of nowhere and killed everyone else. They forced me and Peter to our knees and made us watch them open the container. The people who stumbled out, the girls who emerged? They were your age, Everly, maybe even younger.”
Maverick shudders as he closes his eyes.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, to help comfort him but… what do you say to something like this? My empty stomach rolls as I think about how that night must’ve gone. All that death and then watching those women being freed…
“The masked guys ushered the women into the darkness, and they all disappeared just as your dad returned,” Mavie continues.
“When he asked what the hell happened, Peter told him everything. And me? I was so fucking stupid . I told your dad he wouldn’t get away with it.
That I’d be going to the cops and telling them everything so he could never do it again. I told James I was going to stop him.”
Oh… oh no.
The blood drains from my face. I close my eyes as understanding dawns on me. Maverick was a threat to Father. He couldn’t have Maverick letting this horrific truth get out. The Woodrow name would’ve been ruined.
“So he threw you in here to keep you quiet,” I finish for him weakly, my eyes opening once more to regard him.
Maverick doesn’t reply or react. He doesn’t have to. My father must’ve known what I knew about Maverick—his moral compass is always pointed in the right direction. Mavie would’ve done what was right.
I can only imagine how Peter must’ve reacted at that moment.
Surely he knew how horrible Father could be.
Had he tried to shut Maverick up before he dug his own grave?
Had he fought back when he realized what Father was going to do with his best friend?
I want to say yes. That he would’ve stepped up to protect his friend.
But judging by what was in Peter’s suicide note, that’s not what happened.
It was probably Father’s idea to tell the world Maverick was dead, and Peter went right along with it.
Telling everyone, including me, a lie while his friend rotted away in a remote part of the mountains, never to be seen again.
Maverick’s best friend betrayed him, and my father destroyed his life.
No wonder he doesn’t trust me.
I didn’t know it was possible for my heart to break again for the boy I loved, but here it is crumbling inside my chest. Maverick’s life was thrown away so Father could continue to be evil.
Maverick suffered because he tried to stand up to someone much more powerful than him.
The loathing I have for my father intensifies as emotions bubble up my throat.
They get lodged there, making it hard to breathe.
Another shudder runs through me. With it, comes tears.
I don’t let them spill—I stopped allowing myself that grace a long time ago—but they do blur my vision.
“Mavie, I’m so sorry,” I manage to get out past the lump in my throat. “You were just trying to do the right thing.”
“I don’t need your shitty apology,” Maverick hisses.
“I don’t believe it. You and Peter were too close for him never to have said a word to you about what happened.
The only reason I told you is because I needed to remind myself why you can’t be trusted.
I need to hear how horrible you and your family are. Every fucking Woodrow needs to die.”
“No,” I object in a low steady voice. Learning what happened that night only drives me harder to right my father’s wrong.
“Peter stopped talking to me after that night. I didn’t know about any of this, Mavie.
I’ll swear it in front of whatever god there is.
Now that I do, I’m more determined not to let you stay here and suffer anymore. ”
Maverick chuckles without any amusement. The sound is so chilling I unconsciously tuck my legs closer to my chest to keep from freezing.
“Tell me why I should believe you, when all your family has done for years was torment me?” Maverick asks bitterly.
“James came in here and laughed in my face when he dropped the news that Mom didn’t beat her cancer.
He danced into the room the next time to tell me my dad had moved out of the neighborhood only to kill himself a month later.
Sometimes, James sent Peter in here. God, I fucking hated when Peter came…
He’d spew his shitty-ass apology and promise to find a way to get me out.
It wasn’t until I stopped giving either of them a reaction that the visits stopped,” Maverick looks at me then.
The hatred in his eyes is so brilliant there’s no denying it.
“You could be his new pawn, and this could be just another one of his games.”
It takes a second for me to work the lump back down my throat. Hearing how far my father’s gone to make his life miserable sickens me. I thought I had it the worst with my father all these years, but it was nothing compared to what Maverick’s been through.
“You can’t,” I admit. “Trust me, I mean. And I don’t blame you. But somehow, someway, Mavie, I’m going to prove that if there’s anyone you should put your trust into—it’s me.”
I wish I could reach out and hold him. When was the last time he’d been held in the arms of someone who loved him? All these years of suffering, and for what?
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, Maverick drops his head onto his knees and goes silent.
I don’t know what else there is to say, so I don’t push for more conversation. Instead, I drop my head, too and allow my eyelids to flutter shut.
I’m not sure how much time has passed since Rowan left, but it could only have been an hour or so.
My head jerks up, and I watch as the asshole who tossed me in here steps back into this room.
He flashes me an excited grin. At the sight of it, I cringe into the padded wall.
Behind him comes someone else. Braum steps into the room, takes one look in my direction, then strides straight for me.
“What are you—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Hello, Everly,” he greets, his grin wide and full of excitement. “It’s good to see you again. I knew you’d be back. The Universe told me so.”
I don’t know what that means, so I ignore it and try to lean into his mercy. “Please, Braum, we need your help. We need to get out of here.”
From Maverick’s corner of the padded room comes a deep snarl.
“Don’t trust him,” he snaps. “He and Rowan are fucking spawns of hell.”
Braum ignores Maverick as he stops in front of me.
“You and I, we were written in the stars,” he says softly, his voice twisting with curiosity and wonder.
“But before we can start our journey, I thought I could help you sever a dead limb.” At this, his gaze flickers to Maverick.
“The past you two share will then stay where it belongs—in the past. Your future is with us, Everly.”
“Fuck you, Braum,” Maverick snarls.
I frown, anxiety twisting in my guts. “How do you know we have a past?”
“The cameras in the gym picked up your conversation,” Rowan explains, entering the room.
At my gasp of surprise and horror at being overheard, he chuckles.
“Don’t worry, Braum and I are the only two who know about your little escape plan for Vick.
” To Maverick, he says, “As the generous kings we are, we prepared a surprise for you. Tonight, we’re going to give you the gift of truth.
By the time we’re through with one another this evening, you’re going to know whether Everly is here with good intentions or not. ”
“I’m not going to play one of your stupid fucking games, Rowan,” Maverick objects.
Rowan chuckles. “You really don’t have a choice. But in the spirit of things, to show you this is for you and not us, how about we remove your bindings?”
This surprises Maverick. He goes still, and for a second his expression slackens as if this was the last thing he expected to happen.
Unbothered by the conversation behind him, Braum turns to his large redheaded friend and says, “Jonathan, grab Everly. Sheldon?” Another guy steps into the room with us then, filling the small space with way too much testosterone for my comfort. “Will you help Vick out of his straitjacket, please?”
Jonathan steps forward with a wide grin. “You going to be good for me, pretty girl?”
“Wait, wait, wait!” I cry out, flailing around uselessly in my straitjacket. “Don’t touch me, get off me!”
I screech as large hands come toward me.
“Oh, and Jonathan?” Braum says conversationally as he steps out of the way. “Don’t forget the gag.”