Chapter 30 Wren
CHAPTER THIRTY
WREN
It doesn’t take me long to figure out where we’re going—to the very place we were about to break into. The guys might be able to figure out that we’ve been taken here. The problem is, they have no idea how to hack the system or use any of Elias’s tech.
I take a deep breath as the panic starts to rise, realizing how screwed we are. By taking Elias as well, these men unknowingly foiled our only hope of rescue.
Moving slowly so they don’t hit me, I lower myself to the floor and pull Elias’s head into my lap. He has a cut on his temple, and I use the sleeve of my jacket to try to clean it up. It’s not ideal, but it’s all I have since my crop top and jeans don’t give me much better options.
A loud sound has me looking out the front windshield, where a pair of tall metal gates slowly pull apart, and we drive between them and into Robert’s compound.
At least it’s not Ivan who’s caught me. Maybe I can talk some sense into Robert, remind him that I’m his sister. We’re family, after all. But a nagging voice, one that sounds a lot like some persistent men I know, tells me I’m being delusional.
Elias lets out a soft groan, and I stroke his face gently, letting him know I’m here.
His eyes slowly blink open, and when he sees me hunched over him, my face a few inches above his, a look of surprise and something else sparks in his eyes.
“Am I dreaming?” he whispers, but as he tries to lift his hand to touch my face, he realizes they’re bound together, his eyes widening in surprise and fear.
“More like a nightmare,” I tell him as he glances around our SUV. When he sees the gun aimed at him, he quickly sits up. When the gun follows his movement, he moves away from me, putting distance between us.
At first, I’m confused as to why he’s pulling away from me, but then I realize it’s the gun he’s trying to keep off me. I move off the floor to sit in the seat so I can see where we’re going, just as we come to a stop right outside the front doors of the main house.
The side door opens, and three men stand there, with guns at the ready. I suck in a sharp breath at so many weapons aimed my way, and Elias quickly gets on his knees in front of me, clearly trying to shield me.
The other man in the back with us leans forward with a knife and cuts the zip tie around Elias’s ankles. “Out you get, and no funny business or we’ll take it out on the girl.”
Elias glares at the man over his shoulder, but does as he says. Even with his hands bound, he makes it look easy. The man gestures for me to go next, and Elias reaches back with his bound hands to help me down. He tries to keep my hand in his, but he’s pushed forward.
He stumbles but recovers before he falls. We are quickly escorted up the front steps and into the house.
Six people surround us, and I see at least another five scattered around. There was no way we could try to escape right now.
I tug my jacket closed and wrap my arms around myself as I follow behind Elias. I take in the ornate house. It reminds me a lot of our home in Arizona. His home. It was never really mine. There were never any pieces of me in that house.
An opulent chandelier hangs over the center of the foyer, its crystals catching the light and scattering it across the marble floor in fractured rainbows.
The air smells of polished wood, and the atmosphere feels sterile and cold.
I wonder if Arizona had felt that way, too, and I just hadn’t seen it.
The men in suits flank us, silent but heavy with the weight of their weapons. Their footsteps echo against the tile, too loud in the hollow quiet. My heart thuds in time with them.
We turn down a hallway lined with paintings of random items, a vase full of flowers, and a basket of fruit.
The frames are gilded, the kind that demand to be looked at, and for a second, I hate how beautiful everything is.
It’s a kind of beauty that hides rot underneath.
Being here is like seeing my old life in a new light, like my rose-colored glasses have finally been removed, showing me the real environment I was living in.
My shoes sink into a long Persian rug, muffling the sound of our steps. Every few feet, a sconce throws a pool of gold light against the dark walls, and I catch glimpses of mirrors.
Elias walks steadily ahead of me, shoulders squared, posture calm. But when he glances back at me, I see the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes hold a determined glint that tells me he will fight like hell to get us out of here when the time is right.
We stop in front of a set of double doors. One of the guards pushes them open, and warm light spills out.
The sitting room looks like something from an old movie: velvet chairs, a fire already burning, the faint hum of classical music drifting from a record player.
And then I see him.
Robert sits near the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. He looks older, even though it’s only been a month since I’ve seen him, but it feels like I’ve lived an entire life in that time.
Someone shoves my shoulder, and I step forward until I’m standing beside Elias.
Robert rises slowly, setting his drink aside as he moves toward me. Elias steps in front of me, but he’s yanked back by two men and held in place a few feet away.
Robert eyes him with an amused glint in his eyes before he turns back to me.
My throat goes dry. Every instinct in me screams to turn and run, but my feet stay planted. At first, he doesn’t speak, he just looks me over the same way one might assess a new piece of art.
Everything the guys have told me about the way Robert has treated me flies through my mind, reminding me that sometimes blood isn’t thicker than water.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I lift my chin, push my shoulders back, and do my best to pretend I’m not scared of him.
I see the tiniest spark of surprise in his eyes before that stupid, amused look settles on his face again.
“It’s been a while, dear sister. I hope you’ve been well,” he says carefully, as if watching for my reaction.
“Much better since I left Arizona,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest as I try to look unfazed by his cold stare.
“Why did you run?” he asks, and just for a second, I feel my face scrunch in confusion before I try to hide it. I don’t want him to know how I’m feeling. He must have known I found out about his plans to sell me; there was camera footage of it, Elias had confirmed that.
When I don’t answer, he tilts his head, asking, “Did I not treat you well? Did I not give you the finest clothes, the freshest food, the best instructors?”
I remind myself that those clothes and food were actually forms of chains.
“No, Robert. You treated me like your little doll. You dressed me up in the clothes you wanted me to wear, made me eat the food you picked out, and made me learn the things you chose. That’s not love, that’s possession,” I tell him, feeling proud of myself for getting that out.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were feeling ungrateful,” he says with the rise of an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by my little speech.
“What should I be grateful for?” I ask angrily.
“I put a roof over your head, a nice one at that. I clothed you, fed you, and I never laid a hand on you.”
“Not all abuse is physical,” I tell him, remembering what Dex told me weeks ago.
Robert stares at me a moment before turning to look at Elias. “Can’t say I expected to see you again. I was more surprised to find out you’ve been working for the FBI all these years.”
I frown, wondering how he knows that. Elias must think the same thing; his expression gives him away, making Robert smirk. “What? You didn’t think I’d do my research on the men in my sister’s lives?”
He looks back at me as he sighs. “Really, Wren, I thought I’d raised you better than to get involved with a bunch of criminals.”
“You’re the criminal here!” I yell, taking a step toward him, but someone clamps a hand on my shoulder, holding me in place. Elias struggles against the men holding him to no avail.
He presses his lips together, then turns away and walks back over to his abandoned drink, picking it up and downing the whole thing before turning back to me and holding out the glass.
“Get me a new one, Wren?”
My eyes dart to Elias before looking back at Robert.
The hand on my shoulder releases me, and I slowly move forward.
I take the glass from Robert then step over the drink cart and pick up the bottle of whiskey, I pour it just the way he likes it, neat, two fingers, then lift it up and drink the entire glass, slamming down the empty glass when I’m done, feeling proud of my defiance, even if my throat is burning from the liquid.
Robert narrows his eyes at me for a moment before his cool, calm demeanor returns. He lets out a long sigh before settling back in his chair.
“Very well, you’ve left me no choice. Maybe some time in the closet will remind you who’s in charge here.” My body goes rigid as he turns to the men behind me and waves a hand in dismissal. “Take her away.”
Two sets of arms grab me, and I scream, the thought of being trapped in a closet terrifying me to my core.
Elias tears himself from the grip of one of the men before shoving his elbow in the man’s nose, causing him to howl out in pain as blood pours from his face. Elias pulls a knife from somewhere that’s too fast for me to track, and within a single heartbeat, he turns and slits the man’s neck.
Before he can turn that knife on anyone else, three men tackle him to the ground as I’m dragged from the room, screaming at the top of my lungs.
“Elias! No! Don’t hurt him!”
“I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you," the man says as I’m dragged down the hall, kicking and screaming.
I’m taken up a grand staircase and down the hall.
I’m vaguely aware of a bedroom before a closet door opens, and I'm shoved inside, immediately losing my balance and falling on something hard, making me cry out in pain where it hits my hand and hip.
Before I can even look at what I landed on, the door is slammed shut.
A band of light comes from under the door, offering me a small reprieve, but that’s short-lived when they shove a towel or something against it, blocking out all glimpses of light, and with it, any hope of remaining sane in my new prison.
I pound on the door, begging to be let out, even knowing nobody’s going to come.
Tears trail down my cheeks as visions of Elias being tackled to the ground flood my mind.
With no other visual stimulation, the scene plays on repeat.
He killed one of Robert’s men. What's the chance he lets him live after that?
My breathing starts to come erratically, and this time, even the thoughts of my men aren’t enough to keep me grounded, and soon, the thought of passing out isn’t a worry; it’s freedom.
My chest tightens, the walls closing in until there’s no air left to fight for. Then, the darkness finally takes me, and for the first time, I’m grateful.