Chapter 5 Willow #2
They’re here. They found me already.
The three of them are walking shoulder to shoulder, as brutally handsome and intimidating as always. Ransom looks relieved, Victor’s face could be carved of marble, and Malice’s jaw is clenched so hard that the muscles in his cheeks are bulging.
I stand frozen in place, my heart crashing against my ribs. I guess I should have expected that once I was out of Ilya’s grasp, they’d be able to find me. All Vic ever needs is a lead, and he can track down almost anyone.
But it’s still a shock to see them.
My muscles tense up, my breath catching as my fight or flight instinct kicks into high gear.
I have no idea what to do or say around them.
Just a few hours ago, I was planning to slip away from Detroit and never come back.
Never see them again. But now here they are, bearing down on me, closing the distance fast.
Olivia notices them a beat after I do, and she shrinks back a little, seeming alarmed.
Looking at the three brothers through an outsider’s eyes, I can’t blame her.
They’re all big and tattooed, and although Victor isn’t quite as broad-shouldered as his twin, he looks like he could break a man in half if he needed to.
They look just as dangerous as they are, power and confidence radiating from them in waves.
It’s weird that somewhere along the way, I forgot how afraid of them I used to be. I never forgot who and what they are, but I started to feel comfortable around them.
That’s gone now.
Now all I feel is nauseated and on edge.
The three of them stop a few feet away. With the way their gazes are locked on me, I know there’s no way they’ll just leave without me talking to them. And the last thing I want is for Olivia to get mixed up in all of this.
“Willow,” my grandmother murmurs, moving closer to my side. She keeps one eye on the brothers, as if she doesn’t trust them enough to take her gaze off them for a second. “Do you know these men?”
She seems like she’s a minute away from calling for the cops inside the hospital, and I guess that makes sense. She’s obviously wealthy, even dressed down the way she is now, and the brothers look like the kind of people who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her for what she has.
“Yes,” I tell her, tearing my eyes away from the three of them. “I, um… just need a minute with them, if that’s okay.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Olivia gives me a small nod as she speaks. There’s still wariness in her eyes, but she doesn’t stop me from stepping away from her and closer to the brothers.
I shoot them a look, and we walk a little distance away to a covered stretch of the hospital lawn. With every step we take, my heart rate increases a little more, and my pulse is racing by the time we come to a stop and turn to face each other.
Ransom gives me a once over, his gaze lingering on my neck. I know he’s looking at the bruises from Ilya, a mottled ring of reddish purple that’s getting darker as the early morning goes on.
“Fuck, angel,” he murmurs, grimacing. “What did he do to you?”
He reaches for me, but I flinch back instinctively, not wanting him to touch me. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
A look of hurt and surprise flashes across Ransom’s face, but he withdraws his hand and doesn’t try to touch me again.
Victor looks across the way to where Olivia is waiting, typing out a message on her phone and glancing our way every few seconds.
“Who is that?” he asks.
The other two look over at her as well, and there’s wariness in all of their faces—the same wariness that was in Olivia’s expression when she first saw the three of them. Like they want to protect me from her.
That’s fucking rich, coming from them.
“My grandmother,” I reply bluntly. There’s no point in hiding it. “Her name is Olivia Stanton. The cops found her after they ran bloodwork on me in the hospital.”
Ransom’s eyebrows dart up, and he glances from Olivia to me, like he’s looking for the resemblance. I know he has to be thinking of how I thought I didn’t have any family, and now my grandmother is here.
If things were different, maybe I’d talk to him about all the complicated feelings bouncing around inside my chest.
But they’re not.
And I don’t trust him with a single one of my feelings anymore.
Ransom’s expression softens a bit, understanding flashing in his blue-green eyes, but I turn away from him, not wanting to see it.
That’s how I fell into their trap in the first place—by letting these softer moments make me forget who these men really are. I don’t want any reminders of how I opened up to him. How I told him about my pain and my scars. How I trusted him.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Malice cuts in.
His voice is hard, and it’s almost a relief to look away from Ransom and into his older brother’s pissed off face.
“Why the fuck would you just leave like that? You know how dangerous it is, especially in the middle of the goddamned night. How the hell are we supposed to protect you if you’re not there? ”
He sounds angry as hell, and it reminds me suddenly of the anger that seemed to explode out of him when he found out about what Colin tried to do to me. His words pierce my heart, because I know none of it is true.
It’s all a fucking sham.
I fold my arms, trying to control the frantic beating of my heart.
“Why do you even care?” I snap back. “I know you never gave a shit about protecting me. So you can drop the fucking act now.”
“What?” Malice jerks his head back almost as if I slapped him. His eyes flash with confusion for a second, and then the anger comes back in full force. “Is that what you think? After all that’s happened?”
“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to think!” I practically shout and then remember where we are and lower my voice. “You say one thing and then do another and expect me to just go along with it. To let you treat me however the hell you want and be grateful for whatever scraps of affection—”
I cut myself off, my throat going tight. Pressing my lips together, I shake my head as I try to rein in my wild emotions. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of them.
I refuse to let them know how badly they hurt me.
Malice and Victor exchange glances, and Ransom steps forward.
“Willow,” he says gently. “What happened? Why did you leave? I thought everything was good with us. I thought you were happy.”
“I was!” I blurt. “I was happy. I thought…” I swallow hard, my eyes stinging as I huff out a breath. “I saw your fucking tape.”
“What?” Ransom frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“The video. The one he put together.” I jab my finger in Victor’s direction.
“I saw it in his room on his fucking computer. All the footage from my apartment when you were spying on me. Footage from that fucking golf course with Colin. What… what we all did together.” That part hurts the worst, each word scraping my throat like jagged glass.
“I saw it, and I saw what you wrote about me. I know what you really think, so don’t show up now trying to pretend you ever cared about me. ”
All three of the brothers go silent for a long moment, staring at me with surprised expressions. Even Victor’s eyes widen for a second before his features shift to something more neutral.
“Willow,” Ransom says, stepping in even closer. “That wasn’t what you thought it was. We had to—”
“Ransom.” Malice’s voice is sharp, cutting him off. He shakes his head, and Ransom falls silent. All three of them share a look, communicating something silently, and although I can’t begin to guess what it is, it hurts and pisses me off even more.
It’s just another reminder that I’ve always been an outsider to them, never truly one of them. They have an entire silent language that I’ll never understand.
None of them speak up again, and I close my eyes for a second, feeling the ache in my heart start to grow even sharper.
“I’m done,” I tell them, my voice shaking a little. “You can find someone else to use and spy on and whatever else. Ilya is dead, so there’s no reason for you to watch me anymore. The threat is gone.” I lift my chin, staring at each of them in turn. “Kill me if you want, but I’m not coming back.”
“Willow—”
This time, I’m the one who cuts Ransom off, shaking my head. “I didn’t tell the cops anything. I didn’t mention you or that I knew who Ilya was or anything about Nikolai. Your secret is still safe. All I want is for you to leave me alone. Please. Just leave me alone.”
Before they can say anything else, I turn on my heel and start walking across the lawn, back toward my grandmother.
They don’t try to stop me, and for some reason, that hurts too.
I know I did the right thing. Going back to their warehouse with them, letting them back into my life, would just give them more chances to mess with my head. To convince me that they care so they can turn around and use me again. So they can treat me like their personal whore.
Still, it fucking hurts. I feel like my already battered heart is breaking with every step.
I can feel their eyes on me as I walk away, burning into my back, but I don’t turn around.
“Are you alright?” Olivia asks when I return to her, concern clear in her eyes. “Who are those men? Are they friends of yours?”
“Um, sort of. They’re just some guys I know.” I shrug, trying to keep my answer vague. “And yeah, I’m okay. I’m just… really tired.”
She makes a tsking noise, shaking her head as she gives me a sympathetic look. “Of course you are. You’ve been through so much. Let’s get you somewhere where you can rest.”
She leads me to her car, a classy and fancy looking sedan, and opens the passenger side door for me. I slide onto the buttery leather seat and buckle up, trying to zone out and not think about the guys.
“Is it alright if I ask you some things?” Olivia asks as she drives. “I know you’re tired, but I’m just so curious. You’ve been alive all this time, living your life, and I never knew.”
“Of course,” I tell her, because it would probably be rude not to. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you work in the city?”
I shake my head. “Not anymore. I used to be a waitress, because I needed the money for school but I got… uh, a grant so I was able to quit and focus on school full time.”
No way in hell can I tell her that the “grant” was from three dangerous murderers, paying me off to keep their secret.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says, smiling over at me. “You’re twenty-two, right? Are you in your last year?”
“No, just my second. I started late because I didn’t get my GED for a while.”
Her eyebrows furrow, and I already know what she must be thinking. Before she can ask about it, I launch into the explanation, telling her that I missed a lot of school because I had to work to help my adopted mother with bills.
Not that the money ever really went to that, but that’s a whole other story.
My grandmother listens in silence as I speak, and when I finally finish telling her the very abbreviated version of my life story, I glance over to find her looking at me.
Sadness and something almost like pride mingle in her expression, and when she reaches over to rest a hand on my shoulder, I startle in surprise.
Her eyes are warm as she looks at me, and there’s a kind smile tucked into the corners of her mouth.
“It seems like you’ve lived a hard life,” she murmurs. “You’re clearly a survivor.”
“I… guess so. It wasn’t easy, but I got by.”
“You’re still so young,” she says. “And you’ve been largely taking care of yourself.”
I nod because that’s true. It’s not like Misty ever really took care of me.
On paper, she took me in and gave me a home, but I was the one who did all the work for it.
I made sure the bills were paid, and I kept the place clean.
I pulled her together when she was on a bender or when a john got shitty and tried to take advantage.
But that was just my life. If I spent too much time dwelling on how hard or bad it was, I would never have gotten anything done.
“I hope things can be easier for you going forward,” Olivia says quietly.
As she speaks, she turns down a small, curving road. I blink, realizing that in the time we’ve been talking, she’s driven across Detroit to an area I’ve never been to before.
It’s quieter than the other parts of the city I’ve seen, with trees lining the roads and fancy iron gates set in front of large properties.
Olivia turns onto another road, and on either side are what look like acres and acres of smooth green lawn. It takes me a second to register that this isn’t just another road—it’s her driveway.
We crest a small hill, and what sits in front of us can’t even really be called a house.
It’s a fucking mansion.
It’s all old brick and stone, the glass from what looks like a hundred windows glinting in the morning light. The gardens are a riot of color, and it looks more like a wedding venue or a historical building than a place someone lives.
This is so far out of anything I’ve ever experienced before that I have no idea what to think. The Voronin brothers had money when they needed it, but they still live in a warehouse turned garage turned home. And compared to the shitty apartment I was living in, this may as well be a castle.
It was clear from the moment I met her that Olivia has money, but this is on a whole different level.
My grandmother isn’t just rich.
She’s fucking loaded.