Delilah #3
Gabriel’s face fills the screen, and I gasp, my hands automatically coming up to cover my mouth. He looks terrible, like he hasn’t slept in days. He has dark circles under his eyes and his hair is the messiest I’ve ever seen it.
Maverick appears unaffected by my husband’s disheveled appearance. “Gabriel,” he greets.
“Where the fuck is my wife, Maverick?”
The familiarity with which they speak to each other immediately captures my attention. “You two know each other?”
Gabriel hears my voice through the screen, though I’m not in frame. “Delilah? Are you there?”
Maverick gets off the chair and gestures for me to sit. My hands immediately begin to shake and I feel like I might throw up, but I sit anyway, noticing my husband’s obvious relief upon seeing my face. “I’m here, sir.”
Gabriel runs a hand through his hair. “Thank God, Delilah. Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” My eyes find the small rectangle with my own image, and for not having showered or slept well in a few days, I at least look better than Gabriel.
“Have they hurt you?”
I feel Maverick’s eyes on me from where he’s standing to my right. “No, they haven’t hurt me.”
“Good, good.” Gabriel nods to himself. He seems a bit manic, honestly. “Maverick!” he barks impatiently.
He steps back into the shot, standing behind me. Arms crossed, jaw tight, but calm. The picture of quiet strength. He doesn’t speak, yet somehow still takes control of the conversation.
“I saw the security footage from the ball. Even with a mask, did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you? We were best friends for twelve years.”
I immediately turn to look up at Maverick, utterly confused. They were friends? For twelve years?
“We’re not friends, Gabe. Not anymore.” Maverick remains stoic, though his voice has a dark edge I haven’t heard from him before.
When I bring my attention back to the screen, Gabriel’s narrowed eyes are flicking back and forth between Maverick and me. “Just give me my wife back, and we can all go back to the way things are meant to be.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Maverick’s voice cuts me off. “No one is meant to be a slave, Gabriel.”
“I wouldn’t expect someone as uncouth as yourself to understand the intricate workings of our marital agreements.”
“Cut the shit,” Maverick spits. “As far as Delilah is concerned”—my cheeks flush hearing my name on his lips, and I pray Gabriel doesn’t notice—“she can make her own decisions. Unlike the Brotherhood, we don’t hold anyone against their will.”
Gabriel stares at me through the screen, livid. “You let him call you by your name?”
My heart beats faster, and I immediately shake my head. “No, sir. I’ve asked them to address me properly, I swear.”
“Your bullshit rules don’t apply here,” Maverick says. “You have ten seconds to make me a real offer, Gabe.”
My husband grits his teeth. “We are willing to negotiate for Delilah’s safe return.”
“Good boy,” Maverick praises condescendingly. “I’m listening.”
If the deep flush on Gabriel’s neck is any indication, he’s barely holding it together. “What do you want?”
“I want the women of New Athens to be free.”
Gabriel barks a laugh. “Fuck off.”
“Guess we’re done here, then.” Maverick reaches forward to close the laptop.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Gabriel pleads. Maverick raises the screen back up. “We both know that’s an unrealistic request.”
“Then tell the truth to the rest of the world. Let them see who you really are.”
Apparently, New Athens is quite secretive about their inner workings. I knew the trade agreements Gabriel brokered were monumental, but I didn’t know they were built on false pretenses.
“I’m losing patience,” Gabriel snaps.
I guess that’s a no, then.
“I won’t force her to stay.” Maverick takes a step backwards.
“Come home, Delilah.” It’s less of a request and more of an order.
My nails bite into my palms. “I—”
The screen goes black.
“Gabriel?” I click the mousepad, then the spacebar.
Nothing.
“Time to go.” Maverick closes the laptop and shoves it into his bag, along with its power cord.
“What happened?” I ask. My heart’s still pounding, but I feel less like I’m going to hurl.
“We lost the signal.” Maverick puts the backpack on. “Come on, we gotta go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere but here.” He grabs Benji’s sleeping bag and camp chair from the tent, then starts breaking it down. In a matter of minutes, everything’s rolled and packed neatly.
“How many times have you done this?” I ask, still processing the video call.
“Enough,” Maverick grunts, sweat lining his brow.
He trudges a few yards away where a worn tarp is covering something.
He pulls the blue material off to reveal an old ATV, and after a few tries, he manages to start it up before he gets to work strapping everything—even the small generator—to the back with bungee cords.
He gets on, leaning forward and revving the engine a few times. “Hop on.”
I stare at him, stunned.
“Please.” Maverick’s eyes bore into mine.
I take a deep breath before walking over and swinging my leg over the vehicle, wrapping my arms around his muscular torso tight enough to cut off his oxygen.
I feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he chuckles. “Hang on tight.”