Chapter 7
SEVEN
Gigi
The flames tower high above the building – far higher than I ever imagined them to.
Well, shit.
The scent scratches my nose, making it ache so profoundly I’m forced to stuff my face in the crook of my elbow to conceal the burn.
Common sense tells me to step back, but the satisfaction of being so close to the blaze is worth any momentary discomfort.
That and my pettiness at watching the chaos unfold as people scream there’s an intruder in their midst.
Petrol stills soaks my clothes, and the tightness with which I held the bricks to break the security cameras lingers as blisters on my palms. Blinding them of footage is only a short-term reward until Whizz Tech Dan has some backup camera restored, but the satisfaction was never intended to last long.
So I fully expect the short, clipped tone as I answer my ringing phone.
“Someone’s having a temper tantrum,” Richard says, his voice eerily calm despite the rage I know is coursing through him.
I beg to fucking differ.
It’s an effort to rein in my anger, but I divert my attention to stuffing equipment into my backpack. “I’d say my emotions are pretty intact given the circumstances.”
Richard was right when he said I’d hate Harry for the secrets he kept from me. There’s no news more heartbreaking than knowing this sick, twisted human is not only a relation, but my fucking father. My father.
My own flesh and blood.
The raging-hot fire I felt when the truth was unveiled was so all-consuming I directed my anger in every direction. At Harry. At Richard. At my mother. At William – the stranger who’s been living in my house.
Richard had his reasons, as well as Mum for that matter, which I’ll soon discover. I just need to find her whereabouts. In the meantime, she’s hiding. Probably fled to Paris or something equally as pretentious.
And as for Harry …
My heart stammers, slamming against my ribcage at the thought of him. Harry comes with lies, secrets, but somewhere through the chaos, impossible truths.
It’s taken me close to a week of sidestepping security cameras to unleash my anger on the Circle.
I have a plan to undertake, with Mum as a top priority.
Harry is on the list somewhere, with a question mark scribbled by his name, since my body can’t decide whether I want to be drowned in his touch or to slap him square across the face. Perhaps both. Probably both.
Richard needs to die, yet the repercussions teeter on too hefty. Perhaps I’d welcome death as my punishment if it weren’t for the trafficking. I will not allow myself to foolishly kill him when there are far greater issues at hand. But the odd humiliation, arson, won’t hurt in the meantime.
“For fuck’s sake, Gigi, pull yourself together and get back here.”
“Careful – your temper is showing.”
Shrugging off the jacket covered with embers and dust, I stuff it into the backpack for disposal later, propping my phone between my jaw and my shoulder.
“Tell me … what part were you most disappointed about – that I betrayed your trust, or that my aim was off?” Taking out the oversized hoodie, I pull it on over my torso before returning the phone to my ear.
“That I wasn’t capable of more destruction? I promise this is only the beginning.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says slowly. “I’ll bring you back here myself if I have to.”
“Perhaps.” Fitting a baseball cap on my head, I peer over my shoulder towards the chaos I’ve caused. “But I’ll figure out a plan first.”
“You fucking—”
I hang up the phone, clutching the device tightly before launching it far in the opposite direction.
It lands with a splash, hitting the surface of a lake on the outskirts of the Circle headquarters.
If Richard and his men really were drugging me unknowingly for months, I wouldn’t put it past them to do something as simple as tracking my phone.
And I don’t intend to head back to the Circle. Not yet anyway.
The fire is enough of a distraction, meaning I can slip out of the area unnoticed, but the reminder of vulnerable girls facing potential danger forces me to pass another glance at the burning building.
My throat bobs, my heart screaming to run into the chaos while Richard’s vulnerable and see what information I can find. Just to fucking try.
God knows I’ve fucked up recently, but I’m not prepared to mess this up. I’ll give these girls every fighting chance, no matter the consequences. I just pray that the fire stalls everything long enough until I’m able to return with reinforcements.
Determination lining my path, I throw my head down and start running in the opposite direction. I purposely avoid the weak spots of the cameras, knowing there are several eyes seeking my whereabouts.
While I dissected my plan for arson, I kept a close eye on the house, but no matter how long or hard I watched, I came no closer to finding Mum.
No matter how much I ache to let the betrayal go, I simply can’t.
I’m not ready to step back into the Circle, but there’s someone with access to footage who can help.
Thankfully, Harry still resides down a quiet street.
I trust my luck with climbing the neighbour’s fence, hoisting myself over it and landing in a squat at the back of his garden.
Approaching the house, I keep my legs crouched and flatten my back against the brick wall, peering around for signs of an open window.
It’d be far easier to knock on his front door and demand answers, but there are two issues with that.
First, I doubt Harry will allow me to access files that would lead to my mother’s whereabouts and potentially harm her.
Second, I don’t trust myself around him. It’ll only be a matter of time before he weaves his web and I’m roped in by his strong gaze and persuasive storytelling.
Even the thought is distraction enough, so it takes the neighbour’s barking dog to snap me into focus. With a shake of my head, I push open the cracked window leading to the kitchen and pull myself through. I shimmy my body inside and land with an “oomph” on the floor.
I rise to my feet cautiously, treading on the tips of my toes as I make my way to Harry’s surveillance room. Slipping out the trusty bobby pin from underneath my cap, I make light work of the locked door. It gives way with a click, and I slip through, halting my steps just over the threshold.
Shock causes me to mutter, “What the hell …?”
The entire room, floor, ceiling, and walls, is coated in plastic sheeting. All footage is covered, the transparent texture making the screens appear warped and distorted. A bright light from one panel reflects onto the floor, drawing me closer. I crouch to my knees, inspecting the scarlet droplets.
Since when did this turn into a fucking torture chamber?
“Well, well, princess … that entrance was quite the show.”
My eyes shoot open.
“You really couldn’t keep away.”
SHIT!
My immediate reaction is to grab the first item on the floor laid out beside the remnants of blood.
Curling my fist, I turn quickly, putting strength into the throw.
It connects with the side of Harry’s head.
He tumbles from the shot unexpectedly, collapsing straight into my arms, his legs giving way underneath him.
Oh fuck!
Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
I curse with the effort of trying to keep his body from connecting with the floor, forcing my fingers to cooperate with gripping his T-shirt.
But he’s far too heavy. His body slumps against the floor, as graceful as I can manage to let him drop.
His face falls to the side, giving way to a red mark forming on the side of his temple.
It isn’t until Harry’s lying on the sheets, arms sprawled out at his sides, that I realise I picked up a golf club.
Blood drips from the end, smothering the floor.
With a double-take of his unconscious form, relief sweeps through me that I didn’t open a wound, but I probably left one hell of a bruise instead.
The blood is someone else’s, which strangely fills me with comfort.
God, why did he have to be here?
Why did he have to scare me like that?
And why did I have to act in self-defence?
Guilt has me pacing the square room and peering towards Harry. With fear eating me alive, I crouch beside him and push my finger into his side. An uncomfortable groan slips from his lips, and he starts to stir.
“Oh, thank God,” I breathe.
I hoist him up by his armpits, pulling him back towards the desk and resting him against one of the wooden legs. Tearing down the sheets from the walls gives way to screens that force me to squint against their harsh light.
I pull open one of the drawers and retrieve a roll of duct tape.
If Harry weren’t so persuasive about trying to turn my thoughts sideways, then maybe I’d think twice about restraining him against the leg bolted to the floor.
But if I’m looking to escape here unscathed, I need something substantial to keep him still.
Since I can’t climb behind the desk, I mount his lap, kneeling over his thighs to tighten the restraints around his wrists. I pull tight, making sure he can’t bamboozle me by escaping the makeshift cuffs.
Harry stirs further, his head rolling against his shoulders as he starts to come to. I focus on making his wrists secure despite how distracting his mouth close to my neck feels.
“I would say I’m surprised …” Harry drawls. “But it was only a matter of time before you came crawling back to me.”
I pull the cuffs, content with the work. “Who says I’m crawling to anyone?”
He chases my neck with his mouth, brushing his lips over the skin with a gentle hum. “You are on your knees, aren’t you?”
I scoff. “I hate you.”
“I hate you too, baby.”
I shake my head, shimmying off his lap and approach the desk. I search for my address in the computer system, greeted by several angles of my family home.
Bingo.