Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Gigi
The next few days pass by slowly, and I’m roped back into the mind-numbing routine of being escorted through the cold hallways of the Circle headquarters. To think this place once used to provide me with so much comfort and life is incomprehensible.
What on earth was I thinking?
The odd heist gives me a spark of adrenaline, but nowadays it’s directed at dodging the attention of the police or powering through the tiredness that aches to tear me down.
Poppy’s wedding feels like some kind of fever dream now I look back on it.
The following day saw us at a bank robbery in Knightsbridge.
The next, we stole close to three million pounds of diamonds from a jewellery store in Belgravia.
The third was a day’s worth of performances at Pixies. And so on.
I’m fairly certain Richard is putting me through the wringer as payback for what I did to Jamie. Much to my disappointment, he survived. Victims rarely survive such an injury, but I should’ve known Jamie is notorious for rising from the dead when I least expect it.
I’m only powering through out of fear Richard might rope us into one of those deadly games in his desperate attempt to “teach me a lesson”. It isn’t myself I’m worried for; it’s my colleagues who’ll inevitably suffer thanks to my incompetence.
Just listen and persevere until you can conduct a plan.
If I can get through the death of my mother and Greg, silently suppressing my need for revenge, I can delay my anger from getting the better of me.
It’s now been a full week since the wedding, and exhaustion is threatening to catch up with me, but life within the Circle never stops.
The wheels of the armoured truck crunch on the gravel driveway. A recruit throws open the back door, and I jump down a moment later, my boots hitting the stones. Slipping the balaclava from my head, I use it to rid the sweat from my brow.
“Thomas,” a guard calls, catching my attention. “Richard wants to see you.”
With a nod, I slip the balaclava into my back pocket and head through the open door towards his office – a walk I could do with my eyes closed. As I draw closer, I brush off the gun residue seeping into my skin. It falls away with a light puff of dust.
I stop outside the room, knocking my fist against the wood. It’ll be at least a few minutes before he opens it. Sometimes I think he stalls merely to make himself look busy. Leaning back against the wall, I bring the sole of my shoe to rest against it.
Tilting my head back, I peer down the hallway towards the end of the corridor.
It’s a rare moment of silence since people are still counting the loot from today’s heist. I turn the other way but whip my head back when a figure peers round the wall.
It’s a woman, completely out of place in her knee-length dress, with tangled hair.
She unknowingly calls for my attention, subconsciously pulling me from the wall to take a few steps closer.
“Hey!” I call out.
Her head whips towards me, her eyes doubling in size as if she’s been caught somewhere she shouldn’t be. With fear pushing her forwards, she turns the corner, her hurried footsteps echoing down the hall as I chase her.
“Hey!” I shout louder. “Who are you?”
She turns her head back to me momentarily but returns it forwards just as fast, mousy hair tumbling down her back.
“Gigi,” Hudson calls from behind me.
A final attempt. “I won’t hurt y—”
“Gigi!”
Fuck.
I draw my feet to a stop. The woman disappears round a corner, her shadow blending in with the dark hallway. Muttering a curse, I tilt my head back and exhale a short, tight breath.
“He’s ready for you.”
I spin round and storm towards Hudson, raising my finger to his face. “Who was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was that, Hudson?”
He says grimly, “I said I don’t know.”
I throw my hands towards the closed door of Richard’s office. “How can you let him get away with this?”
“Gigi …”
“You’re just as bad as them.”
I loathed Hudson after he sold me to Richard during a time I thought I could trust him, yet in recent weeks, I’ve been enjoying his familiarity in a place that now feels so foreign to me.
But it’s times like this I’m easily reminded of where his loyalty truly lies.
With Richard. Everyone in this fucking place answers to him.
Hudson clamps his jaw tight. My eyes cling to his, trying to analyse his agonised expression. In the waiting silence, he stares back before visibly clearing his throat.
“Richard’s waiting.”
I nod stiffly. “Of course.”
He withdraws a step to let me pass, pressing his hand against the door above my head to push it open.
When I step inside, Richard is lounging behind his desk in a deep leather chair.
Pictures line the walls, and a fireplace burns in the corner, wood crackling and embers filling the air in front of the fire guard.
At a glance, everything appears the same as when I was thriving in insanity only a few months ago. Yet everything has changed.
Anticipation burns itself into my skin. I settle in one of the burgundy seats. The fabric groans, the backrest towering behind my head like it’s attempting to swallow me whole.
Hudson opts for a chair in the far corner. Jamie rests against Richard’s desk, ankles and arms crossed. A bandage covers his wrist, and my mouth tugs up into a smile.
The foreboding silence forces me to clear my throat. “You wanted to see me?”
Richard smiles, tapping his fingers against the wooden desk in a lazy rhythm. “What did you think of Poppy’s wedding?”
Is he having me on?
“It was all right, I guess …” I drawl, bewildered, and rise to my feet. “Well, if that’s everything—”
“Sit. Down.”
He barks the order with such ferocity I lower back to my seat with a level of submission I despise. Silence surrounds us again. Their watchful eyes feeling like phantom ants crawling up my back and lingering at the base of my skull.
“What’s your plan, Gigi?”
My shoulders turn rigid. “My plan?”
“Why are you here?”
Because you’re forcing me to stay against my will?
I would laugh if I weren’t so out of my depth. Merely a puppet strung up on display.
“You’re trying to fit in, trying to play the part of some avenging angel—”
“I wouldn’t call myself an angel, as such.”
Richard’s palm slams down onto the surface, the brass desk lamp shaking with the heavy whack. He crunches his hand into a fist, pointing his finger towards me.
“Do you know what it cost to have this building restored after your little stunt?” he seethes.
I open my mouth in preparation for a witty response, but with the visible rage coursing through him, I force my lips into a thin line, deciding it’s best not to push my luck.
His phone screen flashes, distracting him for a moment. A faint smile touches his mouth before he turns the bright screen over to face the wood.
“How do you expect to repay the expenses?”
“Thankfully, my dad puts women up for auction for extortionate prices …”
His menacing glare crashes my amusement.
Instead, I offer, “I’ve earned more than enough money by working on the heists.”
“I’m not interested in cash.” He shakes his head before I’ve even drawn the sentence to a close. “But I am interested in using the Thomas family name to my advantage.”
“I don’t follow …”
My confusion has me peering at Hudson as if he holds the answers, but his head is ducked down, eyes boring into a piece of imaginary lint on his trouser leg.
“I enjoy wedding season.” Richard’s voice is cool and clear. “And it’s about time I make use of the sacrifice of allowing you within the Circle.”
I almost get whiplash with how fast I turn back to him. “What?” A low, disbelieving laugh rumbles from my throat. “You want me to get married?”
No.
No.
Absolutely not.
While Richard smiles, a glimmer of amusement crosses Jamie’s mouth.
“To who?” I throw my hand towards Jamie. “To him? You must be out of your fucking mind.”
“Out of my mind?” He raises his brow in mock recognition. “Jamie was ‘perfectly placed’ in your life at a time when you needed him. That wasn’t just a coincidence, sweetheart. I made sure your mother would love—”
“Don’t you dare.” My voice shakes, fury almost choking me. “Don’t ever speak about her.”
Richard smiles in excitement at my anger. “You were only ever going to be a pawn, Gigi.”
My heart slams against my chest with a blinding wrath I’m powerless to resist. “And you?” I choke. “What’s in it for you?”
Jamie shrugs casually as if unfazed about being shackled down with a woman who wouldn’t hesitate to sever another of his arteries. “I’ll be marrying into a bloodline with access to a billionaire empire.”
“No. No.” I spit the words. “I’m not doing it.”
Richard lounges back in his office chair, not an ounce of fear at my rejection. Jamie raises his left brow in enjoyment as I sputter, shaking my head again.
“I’m not marrying you,” I repeat sternly, trying to embed it into their small fucking minds. “I’d rather die.”
My hands shake with the desire to grind my emotions into something solid. Times like this, I long for my Glock despite it being gifted by a cruel, sadistic man. I fist the chair’s armrest, digging my fingernails into the leather until it cracks beneath the pressure.
“I knew you’d say that,” Richard says leisurely as a hot ache grows in my throat. “You really do seem to be throwing your life round far too casually these days.” He rises to his feet, pressing his palms against the wood as he leans forwards. “You will marry him—”
“I’m not your property.”
“Perhaps not.” Richard tilts his head. “But lives are expendable.”
To distract myself from my heart slamming against my ribcage, I rake my gaze across the room in search of a weapon, only to come up empty.
Collecting himself quickly, Richard repeats with a lethal edge, “You will marry Jamie, otherwise I’ll kill St. James.”
Hudson bolts to his feet across the room. “Do you think that’s really necessary?”
I turn back to Richard slowly. My voice is deathly calm despite the bitter rage threatening to unleash. “You’re bluffing.”
Richard’s mouth twitches at the corners.
I won’t allow him to fucking touch him.
Leaning further over the desk, he places the phone face up just ahead of me. “Tell me what you see.”
I stare back in silence as I slowly take the phone, looking at the grainy camera feed. The familiar bungalow takes up the shot, a red dot pulsing in the upper corner of the screen.
Live.
The G-Wagon is pulled up on the pavement, not yet stored in the garage. Swallowing hard, I bite back tears as the camera angle lowers, tilting towards the kitchen window. Harry stands there oblivious as someone behind the camera zooms in on his silhouette.
“I have eyes on the target.” A military-like voice comes through the phone. “Waiting for confirmation.”
I feel the blood drain from my face.
“No,” I say, my breath catching. “You’re lying.”
“I killed his brother. I buried his dad. His mother is deep in the ground. It’s only a matter of time before I wipe out the family line—”
“NO!” I bolt up from the chair as urgency drives me forwards, slamming into the desk. The phone slips from my hand, and Richard snatches it, palm curling round the device.
My throat squeezes tight, threatening to close. That vile, inhuman grin screams of deceit. Maybe this was his plan all along. Maybe he thought I’d crumble under the pressure. But the undeniable fear gripping my heart like a vice threatens to pull me under.
“Will you do it?”
The question hammers at me. Gulping hard, hot tears tremble inside my eyelids. “Let me think about it.”
Richard snarls, baring his teeth before bringing the speaker to his mouth. He gives the order. “Execute.”
“NO!” I scream, reaching out and gripping desperately onto the front of his shirt. “That’s not fair! THAT’S NOT FUCKING FAIR!”
He’s unfazed by my torturous scream and the way I rip my nails over his skin. He nods towards Hudson like he expects me to be a prisoner once more, but I slip underneath his outstretched arms, already sprinting out the door before Richard can finish his sentence.
“If you don’t come back here …”
I can’t hear him over my choking, beating heart. The ache in my chest blooms into something thick and nauseating. My Harley, shackled in chains, sits on the gravel beside the armoured truck they still haven’t finished offloading from today’s mission.
Tears blind me as I whip round in a desperate attempt to find a vehicle. B’s mounting his bike by the headquarters’ entrance, slipping on his helmet. I’m at his side in seconds, taking the keys from the ignition.
“I need this. Please.”
“Uh …” He turns his head suspiciously, hand still wrapped round the handlebars. “I’m not sure if—”
I push him from the bike. He lands on the gravel, catching himself on his palms as I throw my thigh over the seat and switch on the ignition. I kick off the stabiliser and rev the engine, passing him a final stare.
“I need to go. I’m sorry.”
I pull at the gas, the wheels forming a cloud of dust against the gravel as I race through the iron gates onto the main road.
Wind whips at my cheeks, tangling knots in my hair from my lack of a helmet.
I press harder on the gas. Tears catch at the corners of my eyes as I swerve between traffic, ignoring the screeches of car horns.
Every awful thing I’ve ever done screams at me, ripping my heart open with guilt.
This is your fault.
This is your fucking fault.
I shake my head madly, almost losing my grip on the handlebars. In the distance, the sky pulses orange, dark smoke curling wildly, forcing me to push the bike to its limit. The engine wails as I tighten my fist harder.
When I reach the residential street, I pull to an abrupt stop, almost tripping over my feet as I race down the road.
My lungs burn, boots slamming into the pavement as Harry’s house comes into view through the clearing.
Fire curls above the roof, smoke drifting from the smashed windows and clawing its way towards the sky.
Smoke stings my eyes as I slam my foot against the front door half off its hinges, kicking it the rest of the way. Coughing and stumbling in the dark, my heart drums hard as I try to shield my eyes against the dark air coated with heat and ash.
My shoes crunch glass as I step inside, the floorboards groaning beneath my feet.
I scream, “HARRY!”