15. Briar #2
He prowls toward us with that same coiled stillness I’ve come to dread in his father, the kind of cold control that makes every movement more dangerous. His shoulders roll back with quiet precision, each step punctuated by the brown eyes burning with a quiet fury that sends a chill down my spine.
For a heartbeat, I can’t tell if his fury is meant for me or for the brothers as this gaze bounces between our faces.
He stops just short of us, the fluorescent lights of the hall stretching long around his broad frame. When he speaks, his voice is low but edged with a fury I’ve never heard within him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The words are aimed at the brothers, not me.
Callum stiffens around me, his grip iron-clad and defiant. “Getting her and ourselves out of this hellhole.”
Dante’s eyes narrow, dark enough to swallow the light.
“You broke protocol. Surveillance already flagged the shift change and alerted me. You think no one’s going to notice?
You think–” His teeth snap together as he cuts himself off, like the fury is threatening to bleed out into a detonation.
He lowers his voice to a dangerous hush.
“Do you have any fucking idea what happens if he finds out?”
The silence that follows thrums in my bones.
Elias steps closer, his presence a wall on the other side of me, his tone low but unflinching. “We know the risk. We’re not backing down.”
The words burrow through me, shocking enough that my body forgets its struggle, my nails loosening from Callum’s shirt.
Elias meant it.
When he told me to stop fighting, when he growled that they were risking everything–it wasn’t some bluff meant to shut me up. He was serious. They’re talking about breaking me out of this place.
For a moment, I can’t even breathe through my confusion. So I stay still and silent, listening as the truth claws its way in.
Callum’s chest heaves against my side, each breath shallow. When he finally speaks again, his voice scrapes out low and cracked.
“I can’t…do this anymore,” he grits out, words meant for Dante but vibrating through me with every aching syllable. “Every day we stay, my soul rots a little more. Watching her like this. Listening. Pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.”
His grip tightens around me, almost crushing, and his next words are low and desperate.
“I’d rather die trying to get her out than stand another day in here alive.”
The silence that follows Callum’s words is thick enough to choke on, broken only by the steady pound of my own heart in my ears.
I don’t trust him.
I don’t trust Elias standing beside him, and I sure as hell don’t trust Dante with the shadows still haunting his eyes.
But desperation is a different kind of truth breaking open within me. I can hear it clawing out of Callum’s throat, see it carved into Elias’s face as he glances at his brother with concern.
If they’re willing to gamble their own lives just to get me out? Then I’d be a fool not to let them try.
It isn’t trust. It isn’t forgiveness. It’s survival.
Dante’s silence stretches, long enough that the hairs on my arms prickle with unease. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and gritted, like he’s forcing the words out.
“This will kill you.”
The warning hangs there. Callum shifts against me and I glance up to see his mouth opening, ready to bite back, but Dante’s voice only hardens as he continues.
“You think I don’t know what happens when you try to run?
” His eyes flick, dark and burning, to the walls around us as if the cameras themselves are listening closer now.
“I tried once. I made it as far as the gate before his team caught me and brought me to him.” His jaw tightens, the muscle in his cheek pulling sharp.
“I woke up three days later, broken, bleeding, barely able to breathe. He left me alive with the warning that there’s nowhere in this world he can’t touch. ”
The corridor feels colder with the words, the fluorescent lights above buzzing faintly, too loud in the silence that follows.
In the cage of Callum’s arms, my breath stutters shallowly, every ragged inhale slicing between disbelief and calculation.
Dante tried to escape this place.
Which means he knows the paths, the locks, the cameras.
The fear etched in his voice doesn’t soften me, because my survival hinges on his knowledge. If I ever want a true chance to cut myself out of this place, I need someone who’s already tried.
Callum’s grip tightens around me. “Then we do it together this time,” he snaps, voice softening in the wake of his cousin's admission. “We’re stronger together. You know it, Dante.”
Elias’s voice follows, low but steady, “With you on our side, it’s not just a suicide run. There’s a chance. You have more control and power here than anyone besides your father.”
Dante doesn’t so much as blink, but I can feel the tension bleeding off him. For a moment, the hall holds nothing but the sound of our unsteady breaths and the hum of the lights overhead.
I can see the thought terrifies Dante. More than Elias and Callum could ever understand, I understand the way this is likely dragging Dante back into memories he’d rather bury.
Dante’s stare fixes on Callum, on Elias, and then on the walls as if he can already feel his father’s eyes boring through the cameras. When he finally speaks, it’s quieter than before and full of pain.
“There’s nowhere we can run,” he says, voice low and gutted. “Nowhere he can’t reach us. You think freedom exists outside these walls? It doesn’t. He’ll find you with his endless resources and contacts. And he won’t leave either of you breathing after you risked his most precious possession.”
His gaze cuts to me and I narrow my eyes at him.
There is somewhere his father can’t reach. They just can’t get there without me.
The words burn in my throat at the thought of taking them with me. But I need them for now.
“There is a place,” I whisper.