9. Jude
JUDE
M y normally racing thoughts are slow. Lethargic.
I’ve gotten pretty used to it over the past weeks, but it still feels wrong.
For a moment, downstairs, when I saw Freya for the first time, my brain lit up.
I wanted to run to her, to wrap her up in my arms and tell her I love her. That I can’t exist without her.
But she didn’t exactly look happy to see us.
I let my head drop back on the cream leather couch.
Carmen brought us up here to wait and the couch is one of three in the large TV room.
The wall to the right is made of glass, filling the space with light, and a huge screen is mounted to the raw stone wall in front of me.
There’re all sorts of gaming consoles set up too and if I wasn’t dead inside, I’d be in heaven right now.
Instead, all of us are sitting in awkward silence as we wait for River to bring Freya back. I try not to let myself think about the alternative, about the possibility she got away, but even with my mind functioning more slowly these days I still don’t have control over my thoughts.
Something shifts in my chest when the door opens and River carries Freya inside. Relief maybe, but I don’t feel it like I normally do. For as long as I remember my emotions have always been intense, good or bad. But now everything seems far away, like there’s a gauze between me and reality.
River sets Freya down on the other end of the couch I’m on and she pulls her legs up to her chest. Blood streaks her cheek and my heart kicks, panic ripping through the gauze. My eyes flick to River and he shakes his head, showing me the cut on his palm.
I relax back into the couch.
Freya crosses her arms and stares at Carmen. “You told them where I was?”
Carmen raises a brow. “I made an executive decision.”
“So much for always having my back,” Freya mutters.
Carmen’s face stays blank, barely a flicker of emotion, but I can tell the words hurt.
River leans against the sideboard. “Would it help if I told you I blackmailed her?”
Carmen rolls her eyes. “I could have had you killed in minutes if I wanted. I chose to tell you.”
Freya looks between the two of them. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Carmen opens her mouth to answer but stops, her eyes narrowing on the silver band around Freya’s wrist. She glares at River. “You said you wanted that for Angelica.”
River shrugs, his face as cold as his tone. “I lied.”
Freya fiddles with the bracelet. “What is it?”
“It’s a tracker. It locks once it’s put on and can only be unlocked with the app it’s connected to by the person with the code,” Carmen explains.
“Let me guess, a code only River has?” Freya asks.
Carmen dips her chin.
“You can override it though, right? You made it.” Panic flickers in Freya’s eyes and I hate that she’s still trying to get away from us.
Carmen pokes her tongue into her cheek. “I can...”
“But what?” Freya asks, picking up the unspoken words.
Sighing, Carmen sits down on the large, upholstered footstool in the center of the couches. “But you’re probably going to end up going back with them and I don’t entirely hate the idea of knowing where you are in case your brother decides to go all psycho again.”
Freya shakes her head, deliberately avoiding eye contact. “I’m not going back. I can’t.”
“Freya,” Carmen starts but Freya cuts her off.
“Why would I go back?”
My gaze lands on Freya with the weight of an anvil, anger surging past the numbness. “Because your ours,” I snap. “Because you never should have left in the first place.”
Freya’s eyes widen. “Jude?—”
“Because your brother has taken a ten-year-old girl, and we have three weeks to find her before she turns up dead.”
I squeeze my fist. Fuck. That wasn’t how we were supposed to tell her.
“What?” Freya’s voice trembles, the color leaching from her face.
Oz sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Freya, some stuff has happened while you’ve been here.”
“Why three weeks?” Freya looks at us now, her gaze landing on each one of us, searching for answers.
Eli pushes up off the couch. “Why don’t we take a break, get some drinks?”
Freya snaps, her foot kicking out to knock over a small side table. “How do you know we only have three weeks?” she shouts.
The room falls silent. The only sound Freya’s breaths as she waits for the answer, her hands clenched into fists.
I watch her, part of me selfishly relieved that she’s clearly hurting, that she’s not come out of this unscathed when I feel like my heart is scarred.
Her eyes flick to the upturned table only to quickly shift away. She presses her lips together, holding herself back even as her body vibrates. Her shaking fingers fiddle with the cuff of her sleeve.
When I realize it’s my hoodie she’s wearing, that gauze separating me from the world falls away and my voice is soft when I answer her question. “Because this isn’t the first girl he’s taken since you ran. And three weeks is how long he kept the last girl alive for.”
Freya crumples before my eyes. She folds in on herself, a chilling, distressed cry falling from her open mouth. She chokes down a breath but then starts hyperventilating and I reach out to her.
“Freya, you’ve got to breathe. In and out, Angel.”
“He promised.” The words claw out of her, tears spilling down her cheeks as she curls up into a fetal position on the couch. “He said if I left, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.” She digs her nails into the leather, her voice torn and ragged. “He said he just wanted to hurt me.”
I’m still angry. I’m still not okay. But my heart squeezes back to life. I scoot across the couch and lift Freya onto my lap. I brush her wild curls off her face and press my lips to the top of her head. “I think this is him hurting you, Angel.”
She burrows into my chest, clinging to my hoodie.
All this time I’ve been mad at her, and it never occurred to me she might be struggling too.
I’ve been lost and hurt, not understanding how she could walk away from us so easily after everything we’ve been through.
How she could give up on us . Only now, I’m starting to realize that maybe it wasn’t so easy.
Maybe, running away was destroying her just as much as it was destroying us.
I hold Freya tight and lift my gaze to meet Carmen’s. “You should have called,” I say. “You shouldn’t have let it get this bad.”
Carmen’s jaw ticks. Her gaze goes to Freya’s trembling form, and she dips her head in acknowledgment. “I know.”