Chapter 26
ROWAN
I try not to sprint up the stairs to my room, the thrill of victory surging through my veins making it hard to stay calm. Is it really a victory? Feels like it. Getting my phone back and being able to make today’s check-in feels like a win given my current circumstances.
It’s even harder to sit still until it’s time to message Brian. Too early, and I’ll raise his suspicion, too late and he’ll send in the cavalry.
So… I read in the library. Sorcha brought me some adult coloring books and markers, so I do that for a while, too. There’s a deep satisfaction coloring in a giant “fuck you” when it’s all I want to scream at my captor sometimes.
When it’s finally time, I make my way back to my room, scratching Titan behind the ears as I pass her in the hall, close my door, and take up position on the bathroom floor before I dare to power up the phone.
When it flickers to life, emotion clogs my throat. Sorcha charged it for me. The full battery sign weaves relief into my muscles. I lean my head back against the wooden door, sucking in a steadying breath.
It’s okay. I can do this. It’s going to be fine. I’m going to be fine.
The screen lights up with missed calls and texts that start out curt and escalate to rage. Shit. My stomach dips. I guess Brian decided not to wait until our arranged check-in after all.
Sometimes he likes to flex his authority over me outside of our regularly scheduled programming. He probably beats his chest when he texts, too. Just so we all know he’s the one in charge.
Carol
Where are you?
Answer me.
Don’t make me ask twice.
My throat closes, and my hands shake. But it’s momentary. There’s an odd satisfaction curling its way around my insides reminding me that Brian currently has no idea where I am. So his “don’t make me” threat lands a little hollower than it usually does.
I swallow a laugh. How is it possible I feel safer as a kidnapping victim than I do when I’m in my tiny apartment in London? What does that say about Brian? Or rather, what does it say about Liam?
Me
Sorry. I was sick. Slept.
I’m okay.
The reply comes so fast, it’s like he was waiting with the phone in his hand and staring at the screen.
Carol
You’re late.
I swallow hard. Technically, I’m not late. Technically, he shifted the goalpost, pulling a switch on what we’d agreed. But with Brian, it’s easier to just say sorry and take the blame than it is to stand up to him.
Me
I know. I’m sorry.
It won’t happen again.
My heart gallops as I stare at the screen, willing for him to send me a calm, reasonable response.
Carol
What did you have for dinner?
My skin goes cold.
Me
Soup.
From the shop.
Carol
Which shop?
I close my eyes, willing myself to keep breathing, to stay calm. The bathroom floor is cool beneath my legs, but it doesn’t help. I’m hyperventilating.
Me
Tesco.
Carol
What kind?
My nails dig into my palm.
Me
Chicken.
There’s a pause so long and tense I forget to breathe. My pulse starts hammering in my ears and temples.
Carol
Did anyone come by to check on you?
I stare at the screen. Because I’m supposed to be in London, and in London, he knows I have one friend: Willow.
Me
Willow.
She dropped soup and Lemsip at the door.
My chest tightens as I wait for his reply.
Carol
Call me.
My stomach flips. I bite my knuckle to stop myself from letting out the dismayed wail bubbling up in my throat.
I can’t call him. Patrick is in the house. Sorcha is in the house. There are men everywhere. Even the fucking dog could overhear me and somehow give me away.
Me
I can’t talk right now.
My throat is fucked.
Carol
Video.
Sweat prickles across my hairline, at the nape of my neck, and my palms grow slick. My breath’s coming so short and sharp it’s like needles are embedded in my lungs.
Me
Please.
I look like shit.
Carol
I don’t care what you look like.
Check in or I’m knocking on your door, Erin.
My pulse roars in her ears, I’m shivering but sweating.
Me
I am checking in. I’m at home.
Carol
Prove it.
My hands go numb, the phone shakes so much it almost slides out of my grip.
Me
How?
He’s going to lose his shit if I keep up this stupid game of cat and mouse, but I can’t give him what he wants.
Carol
Photo. Now
My gaze flicks around the bathroom so different to mine back in London. He’ll know instantly that it’s not my flat.
Even if I stand against the plain walls in the bedroom, there’s still a chance he’ll know. It feels like a lose-lose situation.
The phone starts ringing, and any control I had over this situation is rapidly fraying. I have to answer it, and when I do, I cough quietly, sniff and channel everything I have into giving the performance of a lifetime.
“I told you I still don’t feel well.” I keep my voice low. “My head hurts.” I’m not lying.
“You sound like shit.” His voice is hard, cold. “Where have you been?”
Is he trying to catch me in a lie? Asking the same questions over and over and hoping I’ll trip up?
“I told you.” I heave out an impatient sigh. “I’m sick. I haven’t been at work. I haven’t been anywhere, just unconscious in my bed. I think it’s a bad flu or something. It’s destroying me. I’m knackered.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His words are clipped, but he’s softening. I think. He’s quiet for a long moment. “I thought you didn’t like Tesco’s chicken soup?”
My heart stutters. “Willow said it was the only one left in the fridge. She went right before closing.” I sniff. “Makes no odds. I can’t taste it anyway.”
“Hmm.”
Hmm? What the fuck does hmm mean?
Another silence settles heavily over us and is quickly broken by Titan barking. I close my eyes, sending up a million prayers that Brian didn’t hear it, but there’s a shift in the air on the line so tangible that before he speaks, I know I’m fucked.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“You didn’t hear that sound. What was it?”
“Sounded like a dog.” A bead of sweat trickles down my temple. I’d make a terrible criminal. They’d take one look at me, and I’d fold like a cheap sun lounger.
“Your building doesn’t allow pets, Erin.” His voice is laced with suspicion, an undercurrent of caution emphasizing his words.
“It’s outside.”
Titan barks again.
I swallow down bile.
My vision narrows.
I press my hand to my chest, but it’s futile; my heart’s going so fast it surely can’t keep going. I open my mouth to say something, anything, when the door I’m leaning against vibrates with a knock. “Erin?”
My soul leaves my body.
Shit. Liam. Not now. For God’s sake, not now.
If I tell Brian the truth, he won’t come alone. He’ll bring men, agents with guns. Liam will die. Something ugly unfurls in my chest at the thought because I don’t want him to.
“Who the fuck is that?” Brian snarls down the phone at me.
Titan whines on the other side of the door.
“Who the fuck is in your flat, Erin?”
“It’s Willow.” I force irritation into my voice like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I told you, I’m sick.” I let out a weak cough before dragging in a shaky breath. “She brought me a prescription from the chemist.”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone. Does he believe me?
I push a bit harder before he can get confrontational or berate me.
“The flu turned into something worse, a chest infection, maybe pneumonia or something. I don’t know for sure yet.
” I swallow, injecting just enough fear into my tone.
“They’re sending me for a scan and have given me antibiotics in the meantime. ”
Another knock hits the door behind me, and I don’t even flinch this time.
“Bullshit.”
Liam knocks again.
My eyes sting, and my head spins.
“Brian…” My voice cracks. “I can’t… not now. I’ll call you back.”
“No. You’ll answer me right now.”
I’ve never hung up on him. I hold my thumb over the button, willing myself to push it.
“You don’t hang up on me.” His voice is low and dangerous. “I’m standing outside your flat right now, Erin.” His quiet voice is worse than when he’s shouting. “The lights are off. There’s no movement inside, and I’ve got my hand on your door. So, tell me again how you’re inside.”
“Leave it, please. I’m sick. Just leave it at that.”
“Do you remember what I gave you?” Brian asks softly. The arrogance is back, but it’s a little tighter now.
My stomach drops, beads of sweat prickling on my forehead.
“Your life, your name, that quiet little existence you were so desperate for.” His voice sharpens. “That was a gift to you, Erin. From me. And it’s mine to take away.”
A beat that feels like a moment suspended in time passes. I never asked for a quiet little existence. I asked him to help me because of the murder. But the more time I’m here and away from his control, the more I’m questioning everything I thought I believed. Everything he led me to believe.
Liam knocks a third time. “Erin. Open the door.”
“I need to go.” Somehow, my voice is steady.
My thumb hovers over the screen. Five years of obedience. Five years of survival.
And for the first time, I choose something else.
“You don’t decide when this conversation ends—”
I end the call.
The screen immediately lights up with Carol calling.
Again.
Again.
Fuck’s sake, just give up.
“Just a second.” I stand up, hide the phone, and check myself in the mirror. I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.
Right as I reach for the handle, it starts to turn.
The door swings open, and Liam’s unreadable face is waiting for me.
His gaze flicks to the counter. The sink.
The floor. Like he’s looking for the phone, like he already knows it exists.
Is it my guilty conscience? Or was I not as quiet as I thought I was?
“Can’t a girl fall apart in peace?” I try to laugh, but it gets stuck somewhere in my body and sounds more like a sob.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Liam folds his arms.
I let the silence stretch between us. But beneath the panic—buried deep—something else pulses. It’s not fear. It’s power.
“Is Brian the reason you’re scared shitless, Rebel?”