CHAPTER THREE #2
“That’s what I’m here to change, Starling.
I know it feels like the world forgot you—like you’re invisible, like no one cares.
But I do. I’ve been watching over you since day one.
I was the driver of the van that brought you in, and I’ve kept my eye on you ever since.
I promised myself I’d get you out. That I’d keep you safe. ”
He hesitated, as if every word weighed on him.
“But I can’t do that yet. Not until I know I can protect you—for real. Please… believe me when I say you’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”
His gaze held mine, steady and fierce.
“I’m fighting to bring them all down. And I’m fighting to bring you home.”
I swallowed, trying to make sense of it all. “Mr. Hirsh knows everything,” I said, confusion creeping into my voice. “He always does. You won’t be able to hide this from him. I don’t understand how he doesn’t already know—unless he does, and he’s just playing us.”
Montgomery’s jaw tightened.
“That’s exactly the kind of thinking they want you stuck in,” he said sharply. “Hirsh doesn’t know everything. He just wants you to believe he does.”
He dragged a hand down his face, frustration flickering behind his eyes.
“I had one of my guys make that call to stop your session. You’re welcome, by the way.
And I’ve got someone flooding Hirsh with bogus sales inquiries—keeping him busy.
When he’s occupied, he doesn’t entertain guests, which means Tomas can’t report that you’re missing. ”
The words settled between us, carrying more weight than either of us said out loud.
“Come on,” he muttered, already turning away.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t thank him either. I just followed.
We reached the dark car idling at the curb. Montgomery pulled the door open without looking back.
“Get in.”
I hesitated only for a second before sliding into the seat.
The door shut behind me with a quiet, final click.
A second later, the driver’s door opened. Montgomery slid into the front seat, the movement sharp, controlled, like he was still carrying the edge of the argument with him. The engine hummed beneath us as he shut the door, sealing us both inside.
“Then why take me back there?” My voice cracked under the weight of it—raw, desperate. “Please. Don’t make me go back to that compound. I’ll do anything, Montgomery. I’ll make it worth it. Just—please—don’t take me back.”
His hands tightened on the wheel. Knuckles white. Jaw clenched. He didn’t look at me.
“Starling…” he finally said, voice low, like it hurt to say even my name. “I don’t want your services. I’m not like them. You’re not some twenty-five cent whore in a lineup.”
The words hit like a slap I hadn’t expected—not because they were cruel, but because they weren’t. Because he saw me as a human and not a product.
I stared at him, stunned. Caught between shame and something more dangerous: hope.
“You’re a real person,” he said, voice thick. “With real feelings. Real trauma and I see that. I see you.”
“Then take me home,” I whispered, then louder, sharper, begging now. “Please. Before it’s too late.”
His eyes met mine, and for a breath I swore they shattered. All the armor, all the training, all the lies he wrapped around himself—it cracked.
And I thought maybe…maybe this was it. Maybe someone would finally choose me. Not the fantasy of me. Not the quiet, broken thing they wanted me to be. Me.
But then…he looked away.
His grip tightened on the wheel, the leather straining under his hand.
His jaw twitched like he was swallowing everything he wanted to say. The silence closed in around us, suffocating, louder than any scream.
“I can’t,” he said, finally. His voice didn’t break, but his eyes did.
Something inside me shattered.
I leaned away from him like he’d struck me.
“It isn’t that you can’t,” I said. “It’s that you won’t.”
Something in him shifted—small, but immediate. A flinch he tried to hide.
And I hated that it mattered so much to me.
I wanted to hurt him back for it. For everything I couldn’t name without it breaking open inside me. So I said the only thing I could think of that would land like a knife to the heart.
“You’re no different than them,” I hissed at him. “You want to feel like the hero, but you’re still handing me back over to them. You’re still locking me away in that place and calling it a prison. Just like they do.”
He didn’t defend himself.
Didn’t deny it.
Just stared through the windshield like the road ahead might offer some kind of salvation that wasn’t mine to follow.
I turned to face the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. The tears didn’t come anymore. I’d used them up in other rooms, for other men who didn’t care.
And now I knew better.
Even the good ones didn’t save girls like me.
They returned us.
Because we were never theirs to keep.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake, Starling” he broke the silence.
“I’m what’s at stake!” I shouted. “You think keeping your cover is more important than my life? Than my body?”
He wouldn’t look at me.
I felt it slip—the last sliver of hope I’d been clinging to. The fragile belief that someone out there might care enough to save me before I was too broken to save.
Montgomery exhaled, long and slow, and then turned the car onto the gravel road.
“I’m sorry, Starling.”
I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to hear it. Apologies didn’t unshatter a soul.
I turned my face back to the window, my voice flat. “Don’t.”
We didn’t speak again for the rest of the drive. The silence was louder than our earlier shouting—thick with what we didn’t say, what we couldn’t say. Regret. Rage. Resignation. It lived between us like a ghost.
The tires crunched over gravel and dirt, the forest closed in tighter around us as the compound came into view—like it had grown out of the ground itself, fed by the rot and secrets buried beneath.
As the gates opened, I forced myself to sit still. Calm and empty. I was good at that now. I’d been trained for it.