Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hadrian
I underestimated how difficult this would be. Safely tucked away in Juliet’s cell, I can be as cold and Saldar-like as I need to be. Out here, though, in daylight, it feels like there’s a big flashing light saying “FRAUD” right above my head, and Juliet is going to see right through me.
And I should have considered how Juliet’s appearance would affect people who knew Candice. Sebastian and Ophelia did well to cover their shock, but they didn’t manage it completely. All I can hope is that Juliet was still too dazed by leaving the cell to notice.
Bumping into Sebastian and Ophelia was a stroke of luck.
She’d been on the verge of making a run for it until she saw Ophelia.
I could tell by the way she watched the couple with the dog.
She’ll run, of course—all Wards do at least once—but I didn’t want it to happen right away.
It will be better if she sees some of the Compound before I have to take her back to her cell.
I set a slow pace, giving her plenty of time to take in the scenery as we head along the main street. Her eyes are saucers, head swiveling left and right as she takes everything in.
I keep up a steady commentary, pointing out the buildings just to keep my nerves at bay. She follows along quietly until we reach the coffee shop. Then she stops dead. “No. This can’t…” She turns her face up to mine, then back to the shop, watching two middle-aged women laughing at a spindly table.
“They can’t be…sex slaves. Look at them.”
I do. It’s strange, but not as strange as it seemed when I first entered the Compound. Once I learned what I had to do to pass my initiation, I started researching the psychology of captivity. Humans, it turns out, can make for happy prisoners as long as Maslow’s hierarchy of needs are fulfilled.
Wards have five-star accommodation, excellent food, a wide range of activities, and opportunities for friendships, growth, and employment. Learning what I have about people, it no longer surprises me to see Wards making the best of things.
It’s a conversation I’ll enjoy having with Juliet one day. But for now, she needs clear, calm instruction.
“They’re happy. You will be too. You need an owner, doll. You’ll never be truly happy without one. Look at the risks you were taking.”
Her lips tighten, and she turns away, but she doesn’t deny it. Is it just that she’s afraid to argue? Or has she accepted the truth? I start walking again, leading her toward the forest. I’m taking her the scenic route to the gate.
We pass out of the populated part of the Compound, heading toward the outer edge.
Neat paving stones give way to bare concrete and then to packed earth.
Some Brothers, like Jacob, leave the Compound a lot, but I rarely do.
My work is all here, and one painfully awkward Thanksgiving dinner a year is enough time with my family, thanks very much.
It’s been over six months since I set foot outside the Compound. If I’m not careful, I’ll forget how to behave on the outside and get arrested for something stupid like walking out of a shop without paying.
We walk through the forest. Juliet hasn’t seen anything green in weeks, and her chest rises and falls as she takes in deep lungfuls of the fresh air.
She always did love nature and would drag me out into it whenever she got the chance.
She even managed to get me into a tent a couple of times a year.
We’d toast marshmallows, drink warm beer, then go to bed, where I’d complain endlessly about the bugs and the lumpy mattress.
The only way she could shut me up was with a kiss.
Does she still enjoy camping, or has she come to love comfort more as she’s gotten older?
I can’t wait to spend a night with her in a real bed.
Woah. Hold up. Baby steps.
The trees press in, branches so close together overhead that it feels like dusk. I pause as we reach a split in the path. Left or right? Shit. I stare between the two, and beside me, Juliet lets out a giggle.
I stare at her, and she stifles the sound with her free hand, looking as shocked as I feel. I wish she hadn’t. I haven’t heard her laugh in such a long time. I grasp at the edges of my tough persona, willing it not to slip. It would be so easy to smile down at her. To try and make her laugh again.
Instead, I raise a brow. “Something funny?”
She looks away, focusing on the trees ahead, but shoots me a sly glance, and for a second, it’s like we’re just us again, on some hike she pushed me into doing.
“No. Nothing. I just hope this place has a good search-and-rescue team if we’re relying on your sense of direction to get us out of these woods. ”
I have no idea how to respond. I should punish her for disrespect. Shouldn’t I? But biting her head off for a joke seems petulant and pathetic. She watches me expectantly, and I keep my face blank as I flounder internally.
Fuck it. Becoming Juliet’s master doesn’t mean I have to turn into a miserable prick who can’t take a joke. “Don’t worry. I have their number saved.”
She smiles at me, just a quick flicker, but it’s the first one I’ve seen. God, I’ve missed it. I choose the left fork at random. If this walk takes longer than it should, that’s fine with me.
We walk mostly in silence, though Juliet pauses to look at things I’d have walked right past. Toadstools growing in a colorful patch. A squirrel. Some little blue flowers. When she bends to pick one, a raspy man’s cough cuts through the quiet.
Juliet freezes, hand reaching for the flower, and looks from left to right.
I do the same, an odd feeling creeping over me.
There’s no reason someone else shouldn't be walking the same path, but my skin prickles all the same.
It sounded close, but no one comes around the bend. No more sound follows.
Juliet frowns and stands without collecting the flower.
For the second time today, I vacillate over what to do.
Call out? Go back and try to find the source of the cough?
Both feel like overreactions, but at the same time, it’s one more weird thing to add to the list, and I don’t like it.
Even less now that Juliet is out here and vulnerable.
My tension has passed to her, and she stares around. The shadows press in, and I make a decision, pulling out my phone. “This has been nice, but we need to get moving.”
I check the GPS and reorient myself. It was probably someone walking on a nearby path. Sound echoes weirdly in the forest. Nothing to get jumpy over.
I’m still holding Juliet’s hand, and she doesn’t seem inclined to tug it out of my grip as we walk to the gate. It takes around ten minutes, and the closer we get, the more I wish I’d saved this for another day.
I wanted to solidify the reality of her situation, but maybe I should have let her explore the inner parts of the Compound instead. She’s acting like a weight has been lifted, and I’m about to slam it back on top of her.
As the path bends left, giving her a glimpse of the gate, her hand tightens on mine, and she stops.
I look, too, and try to take in the scene through her eyes.
The wall stretches up, sheer and unclimbable, but topped with barbed wire anyway.
The gate is closed, and the hinges are barely visible in the smooth metal.
That won’t be the worst of it for her, though. The worst will be the armed soldiers.
Growing up in Scotland, where not even the police are armed, Juliet never got used to the presence of firearms. She freaked out when she saw my father’s hunting lodge-themed study, complete with shotguns mounted to the wall.
Right now, she’s looking at two soldiers.
One holds an automatic weapon, while the other stands ready to search any cars that come through.
I take a look at Juliet’s face. Pale, eyes locked on the guards.
“The wall stretches the entire perimeter, and there are guard stations placed within sight of each other all the way around. As well as the barbed wire, the wall is also electrified. No one gets in, and no one gets out.”
She stays silent for a long moment, staring at the guards. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “So if I ran at that wall right now, they’d shoot me?”
A surprisingly sharp question, given her obvious fear. It would be easy just to say yes, but I’m not going to get into the habit of lying to Juliet. “No. Most Wards try to escape when they first arrive. They’d deliver you back to me for punishment.”
“And they know. They know the women here are prisoners?”
“Of course. They’re paid well not to ask questions.”
It’s the wrong thing to say, and I realize it when Juliet tenses. Money. Since the sale of her company, she’s got plenty of it, and before I can take a breath, she rips her hand from mine and rushes toward the gate, arm waving.
“Please. My name is Juliet Stewart. Get me out of here, and I can pay you five million each. Look me up. Please. I swear it.”
Shit.
My instincts tell me to rush after her, but I force myself to walk at a leisurely pace. The guards both look to me, and the older one says, “Sir?” voice raised to compete with Juliet’s shouting.
“Restrain her for me. Thank you.” I can’t believe my voice is as calm as it is.
I knew this was a possibility, but Juliet’s relaxed state on the walk lulled me into complaisance.
Stupid. Everyone warned me the first few weeks are unpredictable.
Wards can be calm and happy one minute and running for the gate the next.
It takes a while for them to accept their new reality.
Bribing the guards is a clever plan, though. I’ll give Juliet that.
“Please. I have money. I can—”
The unarmed guard steps forward to meet Juliet. She flails at him as he grabs her, and it’s torture to make myself stand and watch as he wrenches her hands behind her back.
She needs to know, or she’ll keep trying to escape.
It doesn’t make watching it any easier. Juliet kicks out, catching the guard in the shin, and he grunts, then takes her legs from under her, knocking her down to her knees more forcefully than he goddamn well needed to.
She yelps as her knees bang on the concrete; it’s too much.
I’m there before I realize I’ve moved, ready to unleash hell on the asshole as he locks her into cuffs.
I force myself to stop, though. She needs to see the consequences of her actions.
“I’ll take her from here,” I growl at him.
The guard nods and steps back, and I glare down at Juliet, resisting the urge to ask her if she’s okay. She’s panting hard, and her face is tight, but I think it’s more with anger than pain.
In her white dress, she looks like a penitent kneeling to ask for forgiveness, but her eyes blaze as she looks up at me.
The relaxed version of her I glimpsed on our walk is dead and buried, and I’ve only got myself to blame.
This was a bad idea, and now I have to punish her even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing.
This was so much easier when she was in her cell.
I force myself to channel my inner Saldar. “Did you really think that was a good idea?”
She ignores me, trying one last desperate plea to the guards. “I mean it. Look up my name and Brightscape games. I have money. I’ll give it all to you if you just—”
I interrupt her and wave off the lingering guards. “The Gilda can’t be bought. They know they’ll end up dead if they cross the Brotherhood. No one is going to help you escape. No one.”
She tears her gaze from the guards, apparently giving up, and stares down at the ground. I let her kneel there for a long minute, thinking about what comes next. Will I get an apology or bravado? I let her decide and sigh.
Back to the cell for a punishment, then. A couple more days of true captivity, and she’ll be desperate to come out into the Compound again. The thought of taking her back into the stone prison sits heavily on me. I like having her out here. It feels right, even though it’s difficult.
I reach down and help Juliet to her feet. I brush the detritus from her knees, then catch myself in the act. Too gentle.
“Apologize to me and to the guards for disturbing their day.”
The words come easier, as if thinking of Juliet in her cell has shifted me back into Saldar. Juliet bites her lip and stays silent for long enough that I’m sure she’ll argue, but she snaps out, “Sorry, Master. And sorry, guards, for disturbing your day.”
There’s no grace to the words, but she said them. It’ll do.
I call to the guard, “The key to the cuffs, please.”
He tosses it over, and incredibly, I actually catch it.
Being Saldar must be improving my hand-to-eye coordination, too.
I don’t remove the cuffs, instead gripping Juliet by them and steadying her as I take her the short way back from the gate.
Neither of us says a word, though she watches, wide-eyed, as we emerge from the alley at the side of the refectory into the main plaza.
It’s lunchtime, and people fill the space, chatting on their way to or from the restaurants. A mixture of men and women, and Juliet’s gaze flicks over them, disbelieving.
I’m so busy watching her I don’t notice Quinn until she’s right on top of us.
Her purple hair has washed out to patchy blue, and she hasn’t bothered to redye it. Her face, usually pale, is ghostly white, and she’s staring at Juliet in open-mouthed horror.
Shit.
Not now.
Not yet.
I look behind her, hoping to see Jacob but instead find Eve, who rushes up to Quinn, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, we should—”
Quinn shoves her off and points a finger at me. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She looks exactly like her!”
Conversations around us quiet, and people stop what they’re doing to stare. A flush creeps up my skin at all the eyes on us. Eve tries again, tugging at Quinn’s arm. “Come on, we need to—”
Quinn steps forward, eyes full of tears. “Is that why you killed her?”