Chapter 41 – Marcella
MARCELLA
The door closes with a resounding bang, the lock clicking into place, and my heart plummets into my feet.
I can’t stay here. Every minute I’m here is a minute closer to Jaqueline being murdered.
Rowan hates me. That’s not going to change.
I told him how I felt, and he looked like he was ready to douse me in gasoline and set me on fire. Not that it matters. It doesn’t.
I was going to leave. I have to leave.
There’s no future with the prince of Messalina.
I’m not the girl who gets the guy and the happily ever after.
I have to get out of here. I have to stop Signoria.
I walk over to the door and press my ear against it. There’s no sound, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t on the other side. There’s also a camera in the corner, but fuck it. I’m out of options.
I test the door, already knowing it’s locked.
But much like a lot of other things in this palace, it’s old and in need of updating.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot in here to work with.
The chairs, table, and bed are all fixed to the floor, and even if I could free them, the door is thick and won’t be broken down.
It’s going to either have to be the hinges or the lock. The lock is the easiest, and I grab the zip tie since that’s all I have—oh shit. I have the drive in my pocket. They took my backpack, but they didn’t frisk me.
It’s not a pin or a wire, but I bet between the two I can pick the lock.
I slip the drive into the lock and leave it in place. Then I bend the plastic in half and slip it above it to create a makeshift key. I twist the two but…nothing. Fuck! I try two more times and get nowhere. I need tools to pick the lock.
Frustrated, I bang on the door.
“Yes?” someone answers from the other side, and I practically cry out in glee.
I press my mouth to the door and speak against it. “Um, hi, I need to use the restroom. It’s an emergency.”
A silent beat. Then, “I’m sorry, mademoiselle, I’m not allowed to let you out. His Highness’s orders.”
Of course.
“I understand, but please, I really need to use the restroom. Surely by law, you have to allow even prisoners the ability to use the bathroom, and there isn’t one in here.”
More silence.
“Please. I’ll be so embarrassed if I have an accident. Not to mention the mess of it and—”
“All right. Stand back. Don’t try anything funny. I’m armed.”
“Thank you. I understand.” I grab the zip tie and drive before he can open the door and take a step away with my arms behind my back.
The ancient door creaks open, and in walks an attendant who can’t be any older than I am.
He’s tall but thin, and it’s almost unfair. Especially when his eyes go wide.
I smile a flirty smile, and he blushes ever so slightly. Cute. “Thank you. You’re my hero.”
His gun is pointed at me, but the fool has the safety still on.
Before he can step foot in the room, I swing up, and I kick the gun out of his hand.
It bangs into the wall before it skitters across the floor, and the guy shouts, trying to dive for it.
I drop an elbow to the middle of his back, knocking him to the floor in a sprawl.
He grabs for my legs, managing to catch my ankle and jerk it up.
It’s enough to throw me off balance, and I fall back, the air shooting from my lungs as I hit the stone floor.
He takes my moment of stun and attempts to crawl over me—again, rookie mistake—and I throat-bar him with my forearm, thrust up, and push him off me.
I throw a punch that hits him in the jaw and hop to my feet. He groans and swipes at me, and I nail him in the ribs with my foot when he tries to catch my ankle a second time.
“Help!” he cries out. “Help. She’s trying to escape.”
Asshole, shut up!
But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t give up.
He stands and comes at me, shouting at the top of his lungs while his hands fly about, trying to catch me.
I twist to the right, ducking under his arm grab, rear back, and punch him in the face.
It knocks the poor guy off his feet and to the ground.
He hits the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.
I listen to his chest. His heart is still going strong. But shit. I really got his nose.
I place my thumbs on either side of the bridge of his nose and, in one swift move, I crack it back into place. He whimpers and jolts, but it doesn’t wake him. Still, he’ll be happy he doesn’t have a displaced nasal fracture tomorrow.
I grab his gun, slip it into the back waistband of my pants, snag the key from his pocket, and lock him inside the room. I glance down the hall. No one is there. So much for people manning the cameras or the prisoner. It’s almost as if they want me to escape.
And best of all, my backpack is sitting on the floor right beside the door.
I snatch it up and toss it over my shoulder.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t think twice. My feet carry me on instinct, and I race toward the stairwell that they brought me down.
I slam through the heavy door, staggering back into the blinding sunshine and pervasive heat.
There’s no way I’ll be able to make it out of here on foot. It’s impossible.
The garage is on the left, and there’s a side entrance that will get me inside it.
It’s my best option. I break through the unlocked door and quickly survey my options.
I need something inconspicuous but fast enough to get me there.
Two large, black SUVs that I know they use when the family goes out, which are equipped with tracking, take up the first two bays.
After that, it’s the SUV they brought me back here in, a smaller SUV, and a couple of expensive sedans and sports cars.
I don’t know which car to take.
Down on the end is a small sedan, not as flashy or exciting as the others.
I grab the keys hanging off the hook on the wall and race down there.
The garage door opens, and my heart hammers faster with every second it takes for it to slowly ascend.
At this rate, I’ll have a heart attack before I can even get out of here.
“Come on!” I growl impatiently.
The moment the door is up, the car roars to life, and I peel out, swiveling around on the rocky driveway and speeding toward the gate. This is another issue. They could have been alerted that I broke out. If the guards attempt to stop me, I have to keep going.
I shift the gun out of the waistband of my pants and put it into my backpack on the front passenger seat.
I approach the exit and wave at the guards with a pretty smile.
They give me a nod and a wave and open the gate.
Just like that. They’ve seen me before walking the grounds and when I left this morning on foot, but that feels too easy.
Then again, who cares?
I drive away from the palace as fast as I can while I pull up the tracking on my work phone.
It’s the only one I have with active internet access.
She’s in the car, heading southeast. The attendants must not have gotten to her in time, or they’re tailing her.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. I head in that direction, going down the long, winding road that will take me to the autoroute to intersect her path.
She’s ahead of me by at least forty-five minutes, and that terrifies me.
A lot can happen in forty-five minutes.
I glance in my rearview mirror, but I don’t see anyone behind me.
I told Rowan I loved him. Well, I told the king that I loved his brother. I love him, and I’m leaving him behind, but it has to be done. That’s what I keep telling myself. My whole life has been have-to, and maybe that will change someday, but that day is not today.
The road winds and curves, taking me around quaint countryside and small villages.
I don’t see any of it. I’m hyper-focused on the path ahead of me and the view through my rearview mirror.
She’s driving in the direction of the palazzo, but before she can cross to the route that will lead her there, her car takes an exit off the highway and goes a different direction, due south.
It takes me a moment to figure it out until it all clicks into place. The bay house.
She’s going to Samil’s bay house. I know it.
That’s the only thing in that direction that would compel her there, and it’s the perfect place to keep Jaqueline.
It’s been abandoned since Samil died. For all I knew, they had sold it along with many of his other properties and possessions, but clearly she’s held onto it.
I pick up my pace, praying I don’t get pulled over for speeding, but breaking every speed limit and law by at least thirty kilometers an hour and pushing this car to its max.
The bay house is a large, sprawling mansion of windows and balconies, overlooking the bay that leads out to the sea, with conservation land on all other sides.
Samil took me there years ago after our father died, and we went out on his boat.
He taught me to fish and how to use a knife to skin and debone.
The house sits three stories high up on stilts, and it’ll make getting in and out tricky.
I can only pray that Jaqueline is still alive and I’m not too late to stop Signoria from having Antonia immediately kill her.
I have the gun I took off the guard and the knife Samil gave me.
A double-sided switchblade with a smooth edge on one side and a serrated one on the other.
The gun’s my second choice. I want them to feel their deaths, knowing there’s nothing they can do about it. I want to make them hurt.
I see the turn off to the road that leads to the bay house up ahead, and I pull along the side, tucking the car behind a bank of bushes and shrubs.
I get myself ready, putting the gun back into the waistband of my pants and tucking my phone in my pocket.
I keep my knife in my hand, ready to open it at a moment’s notice.
It’s a kilometer-long path that leads down to the house, bracketed in by thick marsh and wetlands.
Birds fly high in the air, and the sound of insects is thick in the air.
It’s hot and humid and a little miserable, even this close to the water.
I haven’t been here since I was twelve or thirteen, and I don’t know if Samil has cameras.
If he does and they’re monitored or even set for motion alerts, I’ll be made before I get close to the house.
The house appears ahead of me, and I keep low and tucked to the ground, edging the border of the tall grass.
Signoria’s car is parked along the side of the house beneath one of the pillars.
It’s not just Signoria and Antonia I have to deal with.
It’s her driver, Cristo, too, since she never drives herself anywhere.
Sweat glides down my forehead and back. My heart bangs painfully against my ribs, but I tuck away my nerves, knowing that they won’t help me.
The back entrance is up a deck that leads to the first floor.
My sneakers make no noise as I climb the steps, my eyes tracking every window for movement.
I crawl up to the back window and peer in, searching around.
I don’t see anyone here. Just a bunch of furniture covered with sheets.
Slinking over, I test the back door, but it’s locked. Because of course it’s fucking locked. I check under the mat, but there’s nothing. There’s a small pot with a dead plant to the left of the door, and I search in that and find a small key hidden beneath it. Bingo.
Unlocking the door, I let myself in and shut it behind me.
It’s quiet in here, which automatically sets me on edge.
Reluctantly, I put the knife back in my pocket and remove the gun.
I flip off the safety and tip it down at a forty-five-degree angle.
Blood thrums through my ears as I take slow, even steps.
I move along the first floor, my ears searching, only to catch Signoria’s voice on the other side of the first floor. I move in that direction, my finger on the trigger of the gun.
I don’t want to shoot her, but I keep it ready all the same.
“What do you mean she went out?” Signoria yells.
“I don’t know, Signora,” Jacqueline whines, her voice carrying, even three rooms over. “She didn’t tell me where she was going. Only that she would return shortly.”
A loud clap, followed by the sound of Jaqueline whimpering, hardens my jaw.
“Insolent girl. I don’t want to hear your useless excuses. She’s not picking up her phone, and I need her here.”
Yeah, to do your dirty work.
“I’m sorry, Signoria, I don’t know where she went.”
Jacqueline’s voice is filled with tears, and I put my gun back and take out my knife, flip it open and handle it so the smooth side is facing out.
Movement catches my attention, and my head whips around, my knife pointed out, ready to strike. Rowan is standing there along with his bodyguard, both with guns pointed and murderous expressions.
Fuck. They followed me. Goddammit! How? I didn’t see them behind me. Then I mentally kick myself. Of course. My stupid fucking work phone.
Vehemently, I shake my head, waving my hand for them to leave.
What the fuck is he doing here? He’s the prince.
They’re going to ruin everything.
Rowan motions for me to get behind him.
“Go,” I mouth. “Leave.”
Does he have any clue how dangerous him being here is?
Rowan attempts to grab my arm, and I shirk him off, pointing the knife at him. His bodyguard raises his gun at me, and I flip him off.
“Get him out of here,” I breathe.
The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking makes me wince. Especially when I see the barrel is pointed directly at Rowan’s head.