Millie
“Miss Haven, please come in and take a seat,” Randolph said as she lingered in the doorway of a room that was a mixture between an office and a library.
Strike and Cam had flanked her from the second her feet hit the driveway.
Speavington House was the Deputy Prime Minister’s out-of-city residence. The three-story red-bricked building sat on a large three-hundred-acre country estate. Randolph’s wealth dripped from its manicured gardens and world-class topiary.
The grounds included a lake suitable for a dashing scoundrel to swim in and a staircase a debutante would be honoured to walk down on the eve of her party.
But this wasn’t one of the classics she’d adored as a teenager.
Today was about forcing Hugo to confess so Millie could reclaim her life.
Randolph shook everyone’s hands in turn. “Strike, it’s good to see you again, although I’d rather it was under different circumstances. Cameron, I visited your sister a fortnight ago. She’s taken to motherhood well.”
The sound of a clearing throat caught her attention. Hugo sat at a large wooden table with carved shapes on the sides that led to bulbous feet. His black hair was dishevelled, and he scratched at the red marks on his arms. The dark circles under his glaring eyes made it impossible to look away.
“We call this the war room,” he said with a smirk. His voice was so hoarse it made her internal organs twist with nausea. “It’s apt, don’t you think?”
“Hugo, please,” Randolph chided.
Hugo moved his black, beady eyes to where his dad stood. His hands trembled. “My father thinks you’ll be kind. I don’t.”
Randolph huffed in his son’s direction. “Please take a seat, Miss Haven.”
Cam remained by the door. Strike stood between the window and a cabinet filled with trophies. As Randolph neared his son, Hugo flinched. Was he high again?
Millie sat opposite Hugo and his dad, as if they were interviewing her. She breathed slowly through her mouth while playing with the fidget tool hidden in her hoodie pocket.
She chanced a glance at Strike. He nodded slowly, reminding her he could morph into his soldier persona. This was the Strike she needed now, and tonight, she wanted the version who made her feel like a woman.
If they survived today.
She took in the décor. Antique guns and swords hung on the walls in striking patterns.
There was something calculated about choosing this place for their chat.
The trophies sparkled in the sunlight. There were golfing trophies, ones involving horses, and another with something like a disc on it. R. Dankworth was engraved in the metal. She wanted to study it, but Hugo’s tapping brought her back to the father and son.
Hugo looked between her and his dad as he drummed his fingers incessantly against the table.
Randolph raised his hand, and Hugo flinched. Millie studied their body language warily, trying to decipher the subtext beneath their relationship.
“Miss Haven,” Randolph said. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. I’m not thirsty.”
“If you’re sure,” Randolph said. She nodded. “I’m under the impression you believe my son committed a crime.”
Her eyes pinched.
“Miss Haven, don’t you have anything to say?”
“I was waiting for you to stop lying,” she replied.
Strike raised his eyebrows but remained silent.
“I came to discuss the truth. Your son committed a crime. In fact, he’s committed at least two in my presence, and I don’t, for one second, believe you’re not aware of this.
So let’s stop bullshitting and get to the details. You agreed to this meeting.”
Randolph sat back and pressed his steepled fingers together.
Hugo rubbed his nose on his sleeve, earning him a glare from Randolph.
The dynamic between the men was unusual, but Randolph’s future was on the line, too.
He’d built his career as the squeaky-clean family man and politician.
A drug-addict son with a violent criminal streak wouldn’t help him.
Randolph’s gaze soured as he studied her. “You’re pretending you’re tougher than you are, Miss Haven.”
Actually, she was channelling Liss and Rylee and every badass female main character she’d read about. “When are you taking your son to the police station to confess to what he did?”
She’d expected Hugo to be shocked or beg his dad, but instead, he hunched his shoulders and eyed him warily.
“That’s not happening. You’re here because I want to know your price.”
Millie spluttered. “You’re buying me off like you did with the victim?”
He held up his finger. She wanted to break it off and make him choke on it. “No. I want to thank you for not ruining my son’s life.”
Hugo mumbled something. Randolph fisted his hands briefly before smiling broadly. “He made a mistake and is very sorry for—”
“Getting caught,” Millie snapped.
“Don’t threaten my family,” Randolph snarled, his voice dropping.
Strike growled, but she held out her hand, and he repositioned himself closer to her.
Cam lifted his head at Strike, pointed at his phone, and slipped out of the room.
“Randolph,” she said, “I’m not taking your bribe or whatever you want to call it.”
His jaw tightened, but she wouldn’t shirk with fear.
Not anymore.
“The police have fingerprints of the person who tried to shoot me. They’ll test your son when they arrest him. We have a video of him stabbing the drug dealer. Do you want to admit what you did, Hugo?”
“I don’t know,” Hugo bleated. His body trembled, and she had a flashback of him shaking when he’d stabbed the dealer.
“Be quiet, Hugo. She doesn’t have anything. This little girl thinks she can outsmart you,” Randolph hissed.
Millie paused. Was he a puppet master rather than a caring father?
“If you hand yourself in,” she said, speaking directly to Hugo, “the police will be more lenient than if they have to come and arrest you. Don’t you want to do the right thing?”
Hugo held his head in his hands.
She stood.
“You have a chance at a future,” Millie said, her voice soft and imploring. “You need to own your mistakes. You can’t stop shaking, for goodness’ sake. You need help with your addiction. I can help you, Hugo.”
She walked toward him, resting her hand on his shoulder. He grabbed something from his pocket. She jumped back, studying the object in his hand, but the light glinting off it blinded her gaze.
“No one can help me,” he shouted and snatched at her top. She yanked herself away and ran. Strike was fast, but Hugo dived straight after her, slamming the door behind him.
She screamed for Cam as she ran. They’d walked through a series of corridors between the front door and the “war room,” and she couldn’t decipher the route back. Her heart thundered in her chest.
She couldn’t catch her breath.
But she kept running.
She dived around another corner, slipping on a mat.
“Fuck,” she screeched, landing hard on the wooden floor. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and the pain in her knees made it harder to stand.
“You’re a dead woman walking,” Hugo roared.
She had to move. Strike would do everything to save her, but until he found her, she needed to escape.
She panted as she hid behind a decorative wooden chair. She glanced at her knee. Blood poured from it, splashing the floor. If her mum could see her now. Talk about going from the quietest life to one filled with danger.
“Silly girl, you can’t get away that easily,” Randolph called from down the hall. “Do the right thing and take my offer. You’ll never have to worry again.”
The edge to his threat wasn’t lost on her. But if they could prove Hugo did it, then this would all be over.
She slunk tighter against the chair. She shoved her glasses up her nose, swiping away the sweat from her forehead as footsteps neared where she hid.
“I can’t find the exit. Randolph is close. The men are hunting me,” she whispered to her hidden microphone, staring at the wall lined with photos from Randolph’s fox hunts. She read somewhere that it was one of his favourite ways to schmooze world leaders. The whole family was disgusting.
Focus, Millie!
She must move. Here, she was a sitting duck.
Remember, you’re not someone who watches their future unfold around them. You’re in charge of it.
And you’re a fighter.
“Hugo, where is she?” Randolph’s voice echoed down the corridor. “You’re so bloody useless. Why do I always have to sort out your mistakes?”
“I’m not the only one who makes—”
“Shut up,” Randolph barked. At the crunch of bone against bone and the following gasp, she glanced around the chair, but she couldn’t see anyone. “You go that way, and I’ll head down there. We will shut that girl up for good.”
She needed to leave, but what if one of them was nearing where she hid? She crawled slowly past the next chair, checking for footsteps or any sounds that suggested they were close.
Blood mixed with the sweat dripping from her. She glanced at the fox hunting photos again. What if they had a dog in the house? It would find her in seconds.
Go now or die.
She crept to the next corner and looked down the corridor. Light bloomed from the window in the front door. If she reached it, she’d have a chance of escaping.
“Stal, I can see the front door. I’ll hide behind Strike’s car until Bear finds me,” she hissed.
At a scratching sound, she turned on her heel, checking the corridor. Hugo stood at the end of it, grinning manically.
“I got you now, you little bitch.”
“No,” she screamed as she sprinted down the corridor, adrenaline making her blood thunder in her ears.
“I’ve got a gun,” Hugo shouted. “You’d better stop, or I’ll shoot.”
What did they say in her books? People find it harder to hit a running target than a still one.
There was a mirror by the door, and she ran toward it. In the reflection, she witnessed Hugo violently shaking.
There was no way he’d hit her unless it were pure luck.
Distracted by the sight of Strike behind him in the reflection, she slammed into a solid body.
“It’s okay,” Bear said. He wrapped his arms around her and carried her away from danger.
A scuffle and a bang sounded, but it wasn’t the sound of a shot. She held her breath as she waited to hear something, anything.
Please let Strike be okay. I can’t lose him. Not now.
Time stilled as her vision of the future she wanted faded at the edges before disappearing completely.
She panted against Bear’s solid form. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I’ve got him,” Strike called out. “It’s over.”
Liss, Luke, and several uniformed officers ran through the front door.
“We’ve successfully retrieved the video of the stabbing,” Liss said between gasps.
Strike walked Hugo around the corner, his hands pinned behind him with handcuffs.
At the sight, she collapsed against Bear.