16. Fleur
16
FLEUR
I was quiet in the back seat next to my bag, tears escaping even when I tried my damnedest to fight them. I was worried for him, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried for myself too. Just a month ago, I’d taken my final breath and inhaled a pool of muddy water that killed me. I still remembered it vividly, how painful of a death it was. And then for the week afterward, I slept more than I ever had in my life, like my brain needed to heal from the loss of oxygen for however long I’d been dead.
And now here we were again…
I watched the city disappear as we headed farther away into the countryside, where it was just highways and billboards and then nothing of substance on either side. We turned on a road and left the main area and soon it was fields and the occasional building or warehouse.
It gave me heart palpitations because I felt like I was reliving the past, driving out to the middle of nowhere where a coffin awaited. I’d expected to stay somewhere in the city, in an apartment or barricaded inside an office building, a needle in a haystack.
Something about this didn’t feel right.
When I’d thrown my stuff in my bag, I’d grabbed whatever clothes were nearest, but I’d also grabbed a handgun from his closet and tossed that inside.
My eyes lifted when I heard the driver speak into his earpiece. “Yeah, we got her.”
My blood burned and turned ice-cold at the same time.
Who was he talking to?
Bastien was the only one who would ask, and he’d already seen me leave.
My heart started to race faster, my gut telling me this wasn’t right. None of this was right.
I opened my bag and found the gun inside. I checked that it was loaded just like Bastien had taught me and confirmed the safety was on so I wouldn’t shoot myself by mistake. I looked ahead at the driver, wondering if I should just shoot him and hope I didn’t die in the crash.
But what if I was wrong? What if this was all paranoia?
We slowed down and turned off the road, approaching a steel gate covered in barbed wire. It reminded me of the warehouse Bastien had taken me to, but we had traveled in a different direction to get here, so I knew it wasn’t the same place.
We pulled onto the property and parked near the front doors.
I tucked the gun into the back of my jeans the way Bastien did, making sure my sweater covered it, and I tried to act normal. But when I looked out the window and saw the number of men there, all with guns, I knew this wasn’t a safe house. A safe house was meant to blend in, to be inconspicuous. This looked like a military base.
My palms were so sweaty I almost dropped my phone when I grabbed it out of my back pocket. The guys approached to open the door, and I called Bastien as quick as I could, hoping he would pick up on the first ring.
The door opened, and the guy looked at me, seeing the bright phone in my hand and the name on the screen.
Bastien, pick up.
His realization quickly turned to panic, and he lunged at me to take it away. “Give me the phone.”
Bastien picked up, his voice audible. “Sweetheart?—”
“It’s a trap!” That was all I could get out before he punched me so hard in the face that the phone went flying.
The guy dove for it, and another man opened the other door to grab me.
I could barely move because the blow had nearly incapacitated me, but I saw him turn the phone off so Bastien couldn’t trace my location.
At least he knew I needed help. He would come.
He would come like he did last time.
He would save me.
He will save me…