Chapter 29 Willow
WILLOW
It takes a long time, but eventually, my heart stops pounding so hard.
We put distance between us and Detroit, and after a while, I stop looking over my shoulder, expecting someone to be on our tail. Hours start to slip away as Malice drives, and as the road rolls by beneath us, my eyelids start to grow heavy.
It’s been a long fucking day.
The adrenaline that poured through my veins during the escape from the church is fading, and I feel exhausted and shaky in the aftermath.
At some point, Ransom tugs me down to drape my upper body over his lap, and I go willingly, closing my eyes as he runs his fingers through my hair, pulling out the pins and combs that the stylist used to tease the locks into an elegant style for the wedding.
It feels good, his fingers gently massaging my scalp as Malice and Vic talk softly in the front, and I slip into a doze, lulled by the rumble of the car as the miles pass.
When the car finally stops, the sudden lack of movement wakes me up, and my heart gives a sickening jolt. My head snaps up, and a fresh wave of adrenaline surges through me all over again as I look around, trying to see where we are and why we stopped.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Ransom says immediately. He puts a hand between my shoulder blades and strokes his fingers there. “We’re just stopping for the night. This is a safe place.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe past the panic that’s clawing at my throat and my chest. When I glance around through the darkness, I can barely see anything at all.
The car’s headlights cut through the night, and I can just make out empty fields and a long, gravel path.
Obviously we’re somewhere pretty remote, and I guess that makes sense.
It’s better to keep off the grid if we want to stay off Olivia’s radar.
It’s probably pretty unlikely that there are cameras or anything all the way out here.
“Where are we?” I ask, glancing at Malice and Vic in turn. “Is this a safe place to stay?”
There are a million questions in my head, but those are the most important two, I guess. The ones I need answered so that maybe I’ll have a hope of not spiraling out of control.
“The middle of fucking nowhere,” Malice answers, which is very him, but not exactly helpful.
I glance at Vic instead, hoping for more clarity.
“This property is up for sale,” he says. “There’s a farmhouse a little ways up that’s furnished but currently vacant, and we’ll stay there for the night. It’s so remote that no one’s shown much interest in it, which works for our purposes. We won’t be bothered tonight.”
“But it has like running water and stuff, right?” Ransom asks, frowning.
“And electricity, yeah. It’ll do for now.”
Malice drives up the long, winding driveway, and the farmhouse comes into view. It’s a simple building, the wooden siding is dark in the headlights. We park behind the house, probably as an extra precaution to make sure no one sees the car, and then grab what we need before walking up to the door.
Vic crouches in front of it, and it only takes a few seconds for him to pick the lock and let us inside.
Ransom has his hand on the small of my back, and I let him lead me in. Malice holds a hand up and then nods at Vic, and the two of them split off with their weapons drawn.
“They’ll do a quick sweep of the house,” Ransom tells me. “Make sure it’s empty and clear.”
I nod, but my head is in chaos.
It feels so fucking strange to be here. I hadn’t let myself think too far past the wedding, because with Troy’s threats, I knew our wedding night was going to be the thing of nightmares.
I’d tried to block it out of my mind for as long as possible, telling myself I’d deal with it when I got there, when there was no other way to avoid it.
But now I’m here, and the day went nothing like I thought it would. I’m standing in the entryway of a farmhouse, hours away from my old home.
A home I’ll probably never go back to.
There’s so much weighing on me. My head and my heart are a riot of emotions and thoughts that I can’t even sort through.
There’s relief that I’m not currently married to Troy and worry for what comes next and anger that my plan was ruined and gratitude that the guys came to rescue me.
It all blends together too intensely for me to be able to pick out any single feeling from the mad tangle, and my head throbs when I try.
After about five minutes, Malice and Vic come back.
“It’s clear,” Vic says with a short nod.
“Thank fuck,” Ransom replies, groaning and stretching. “Malice drives like a fucking maniac, and I wanna soak up this time out of the car.”
“Next time I’ll just let Olivia’s security forces catch up to us then. Or you can drive, since you wanna complain so fucking much,” Malice grumbles.
Ransom just grins and walks into the kitchen to start opening and closing cabinets that are almost certainly empty.
Vic follows him, but instead of rifling through the cabinets, he starts setting up his laptop at the table, pulling out little devices and building himself what looks like a makeshift battle station.
I stand where I am, watching in silence for a bit, but eventually, the need to wash off the dried sweat and grime from the day wins out.
“I’m going to go clean up,” I mutter and I walk off without waiting for a response.
It takes a few tries to find a bedroom, and when I do, I flip the light on and close the door. There’s a large floor-length mirror behind the door, and I catch sight of myself with a start.
Fuck. I look like a wreck.
My makeup is smudged, mascara darkening the undersides of my eyes, my hair is a mess despite Ransom’s ministrations, and my dress is torn and bloody.
There’s a layer of dirt along the train from running through the halls, and grass stains from our fall out the window.
Just looking at myself in this fucking dress makes my heart pound and my stomach churn. I hate it. I hate everything about it. What it represents, how it looks. The way I had no say in any of it.
Suddenly, all I want is to rip this fucking thing off and maybe set it on fire. But getting it off is the most important part.
The woman who helped me into it what feels like forever ago made it look simple, but without someone else to help me, it’s not easy at all. I end up scrabbling at my back, trying to find the ties and clasps that will undo it all.
I manage to undo a couple of them, but there are so many, and it’s hard when I can’t see them. Turning around in the mirror is useless, since I can’t see that way either, and I just end up yanking at the heavy fabric, desperate enough to try to actually tear it off.
“Fuck,” I pant, tears welling in my eyes. “Come on.”
It’s as if being trapped in this stupid fucking dress is just making everything harder, and my shoulder wrenches painfully as I reach back again and again, trying to find something that will get me out of this.
“Please,” I mumble to no one in particular. “I just want—”
The bedroom door opens, and I break off as Malice walks in without a word.
For a second, he just stands there, watching me as I struggle, and I glare at him, my heart racing.
“Aren’t you going to help me?” I blurt, irritation prickling under my skin.
He just shrugs, his gray eyes dark. “I dunno. I figured you had it handled. Just like you had the wedding handled. Why would you want my help if you’re just planning to do whatever the fuck you decide to do on your own?”
He doesn’t even sound angry as he says it, but his words are deliberate, and they sting. I glare at him, clenching my jaw hard.
“Excuse me for trying to protect you,” I snap.
Malice prowls closer, moving like a predator closing in on its prey. “Should I? We tried to protect you by keeping you out of X’s crosshairs, and you didn’t like that too much.”
A noise that’s halfway between a growl and a groan leaves me, and I blow out a breath. I hate him a little in this moment for throwing that in my face. It’s even worse because he’s right.
I did the same thing I got so pissed at the three of them for doing: making a choice and not letting them be a part of it. Not letting them have a say.
I know how they must feel about it, because it’s how I felt when I found out. Angry, helpless, disrespected. I hated them for putting me in that position. Or at least, I tried to tell myself I did.
But I can’t admit that I know he’s right, or that I understand how he feels. Not right now.
Not when my emotions are reaching a fever pitch, anger and sadness and anxiety washing through me in waves. I’m so fucking worried about them and terrified of what Olivia will do.
I thought I could save them. I tried to save them.
And now they’re on the run because of me.
“I knew what I was doing,” I say, my voice tense and angry. “And it would have been worth it. I could’ve kept you and the others from spending the rest of your lives in danger because of Olivia, or even worse, getting killed by her. You shouldn’t have stopped me.”
Malice’s jaw goes hard, a muscle in his cheek jumping. “Stopped you from being sold off like a piece of cattle? Excuse the fuck out of us for thinking that would have been a shit deal.”
I shove at his chest, trying to get some space from him. “You shouldn’t have done it! You should have just let me make my choice.”
Whatever space I gained, Malice takes back, getting right in my face. He doesn’t stop when he reaches me either, backing me up until I’m pressed against the wall.
“That’s the choice you were gonna make?” he snarls, his nostrils flaring. “Is that what you wanted? You wanted to be that fucker’s wife?”
“No, but I—”
“But fucking nothing, Solnyshka! We had an agreement. We had a plan. We were gonna get you out of there, and instead, you decided to march down the aisle with one of the most disgusting pieces of shit I’ve ever met.”
“It’s my life!” I shout back. “If I wanted to do it—”