Chapter 12 #2
“Good. You should be. When I’m out of here, we should talk. My foundation has been looking for a new domestic violence initiative to support.”
We talk about philanthropy then. About grants and fundraising and the politics of charity boards. It’s safe territory. It’s normal. For ten minutes, I almost forget why we’re both here. I forget the bullet, the threats, Phineas. We are simply two women finding common ground.
She shifts slightly in the bed, a wince of pain crossing her face. I instinctively lean forward.
“Are you alright? Should I call a nurse?”
She shakes her head, breathing through it.
“It passes. Just muscles spasming.” She settles back against the pillows, her eyes finding mine again.
“Men like ours,” she says quietly, her voice dropping.
“Victor. Hunter. They love fiercely. Sometimes… too fiercely. It’s a heavy thing to carry, their protection. ”
My breath catches. She understands. She sees it. The crushing weight of their care can be a lot to handle sometimes.
“Yes,” I whisper. “It is.”
“My best friend married a protective type as well. I would love for you to meet them while they are in town.”
A bright smile stretches across my face. “I would love to meet the woman who gets to be your best friend. She has to be quite impressive in her own right.”
Trinity laughs. “You have no idea. She’s about to have a baby, though, so Samuel is extra protective and possibly driving her crazy. Much like Hunter is driving me mad. If I didn’t love him so much, I might end up a widow for all his hovering.”
I chuckle. “I hear Samuel is who I have to thank for getting your husband to agree to this visit.”
She reaches out and takes my hand after a beat of silence. Her skin is cool, her grip surprisingly strong. “I’m glad you got away from him, Liliana. And I’m glad Victor found you.” Her eyes are sincere, a warmth spreading from them that settles deep in my chest.
“I have a suspicion,” she says, her thumb stroking the back of my hand, “that we are going to be great friends.”
Tears prick my eyes, and for the first time, they aren’t from fear or anger. They are from relief. From the unexpected gift of connection in the middle of this nightmare. I squeeze her hand back, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
I have an ally.
Leaving the room, I carry a sense of lightness where heavy dread had been when I walked in. The weight of the vest is still there, but the weight in my chest has eased. An ally. A friend. It’s a flicker of warmth in a world that has been relentlessly cold.
I step into the quiet, sterile hallway, my shoes making soft tapping sounds on the linoleum. The guard is there, waiting.
But it’s not the same guard.
This man is taller, leaner, with a sharp, angular face I don’t recognize. The same dark suit, the same earpiece, but his eyes are different. Colder.
A prickle of unease traces its way up my spine. “Where is the other guard?” I ask, my voice sounding louder than I intended in the stillness.
He gives me a brief, dismissive smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Doing a round on the floor. Change of plans, Mrs. Draven.” My name on his lips sounds wrong. “Mr. Serrano and Mr. Thorne are waiting nearby. They decided they want to change vehicles. This way.”
He gestures down the corridor, in the opposite direction from which I came. I’m suspicious, but I don’t have a phone or a way to contact anyone, and Owen did tell the guard to pass on his message to the others.
I follow him. My footsteps echo his. We take a turn, then another, until we’re at the main entrance instead of the emergency room doors.
A black SUV waits by the curb, engine humming softly. It looks identical to the one I arrived in. I’ve seen them use decoy vehicles before, so maybe that’s what this is.
I stop at the edge of the curb. My heart is racing against the hard shell of the vest beneath my shirt.
I look back at the guard. He’s standing just behind me, his expression placid, patient. He’s blocking my only path of escape. Making a scene here is impossible, foolish. He’s security. I’m the visitor. Who would believe me? I pray I’m not being misled, but something isn’t right.
With a hand that feels disconnected from my body, I reach for the handle of the back door. It’s cool to the touch. I pull it open and slide inside. The leather seats are cold, and no one else is in the car. Where are Victor and Owen?
The guard gets into the driver’s seat, the door closing with a solid thud that seals me inside. He pulls away from the curb smoothly.
“We’ll be picking up our other passenger in just a moment, Mrs. Draven,” the guard says, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror for a fraction of a second.
Ice floods my veins. “Don’t call me that,” I snap.
He doesn’t respond. We drive in silence through the parking lot until we come to a stop sign just before the exit onto the street.
The engine idles, the sound unnaturally loud in my ears.
The passenger-side door next to me clicks open.
And my worst nightmare slides in next to me.
“Hello, wife,” he says, his voice a low, silky purr that makes me want to shrink into a corner and disappear. “You’ve been very naughty. Are you ready to come home and face the consequences?”