“Ray Perelli, I suppose you’ve come to kill me now. Get it over with then, the stench of death clinging to you says we’ll be having a shared funeral at this rate.” I square my shoulders boldly, even though I’m quaking inside. Will he use a knife to slit my throat or a gun to end me quicker? Or maybe he’ll flood the cell with gasoline and set it alight. Perelli chortles, having to hold his side to keep his hip from snapping at the jerky movement. His guards remain statue still, no lights appearing on upstairs and I notice Wyatt hovering in the door nervously.
“Not yet, my dear. There’s still two pieces of this puzzle missing. But I assure you, I’ll hold you as long as it takes.” My heart squeezes at his words, the thought of Avery still being hunted enough to shatter my resolve. Tears well in my eyes, a silent prayer resounding in my mind. Run far, beautiful lady, and don’t turn back. Perelli seems to notice the mess around my cell, his eyebrows creasing as if he’s going to reprimand me for not tiding my room.
“Who brought her these luxuries? This is a prison, not a fucking hotel.” He slides his cane beneath my sleeping bag and chucks it towards the sink with as much strength as he can muster. The man before me isn’t the mob boss I envisioned, but he doesn’t need to be because he has something much more potent – power and money. That deadly combination is what keeps this place swarmed with armed guards and loyal men I won’t be able to escape so easily from. I keep my mouth clamped shut, not owing him anything.
“I did,” Wyatt’s deep voice filters in from the corridor and my eyebrows rise. How interesting Wyatt should take the fall for some woman he barely knows, which leads to the questions of who is she and why does he care for her? Perelli growls dangerously, shunning me with his back and retreating. The guards step out shoulder to shoulder behind him, creating a wall of muscle I couldn’t slip past if I tried. The door is slammed closed and chain locked back in place, my heart sinking with the knowledge I’m stuck in here for a long while yet. But as long as it takes for Avery to flee the country or whatever she had better be doing is fine by me.
The echo of skin on skin sounds and has me running to the steel bars to see Wyatt’s head whipped sideways. Turns out the old man has more bite to his bark than I gave him credit for. His emerald eyes slip to me, the resounding misery from my dream confined within them. I’m failing to see any reason Wyatt would ally himself with this man or was he so adrift any option seemed better than being alone.
“Seems you have a soft spot for our prisoner, son. We don’t have time for your weakness. As soon as Avery has been located and brought here, we will release the hydrogen chloride rigged up in each of the inner vents and burn them both from the inside out. Only then will Nixon know of the pain I’ve felt for the past twenty years.” So, poison it is, real classy. Perelli smiles wickedly and reaches out to clasp Wyatt’s shoulder who still has his eyes locked on me.
“Should we be speaking of the specifics in front of her?”
“She won’t alive long enough to tell anyone.” Patting Wyatt, Perelli begins to shuffle past with the guards hot on his heels. The trio slowly slink away into the darkness in the opposite direction to the stairs. My eyes track them until they’ve disappeared, the realisation that there must be another way out of here lifting my shattered spirits. Before I can start to hatch a plan, Wyatt’s hands whip out to catch mine around the bars. His palms crush my knuckles against the steel, a whimper leaving my lips before I can stop it. His features are rigid with the promise of more pain etched into his face.
“If you ever tell anyone of the undeserving kindness Rachel has shown you, I’ll kill you myself.”
Avery
A knock at the door saves me from picking at my cuticles, although I was quite invested in making my chipped nails look longer after another day of sparring with Huxley. Readjusting the towel around my chest after a recent shower, I jump down from the bed with a sigh. Swinging the door open, two garment bags are thrown into my unsuspecting arms. The butler has turned and left before I can ask what these are for, a note on the bag catching my attention. ‘Dining Hall 6pm.’ Frowning, I place the items onto the bed and unzip the first to find a black suit. Moving onto the second, I find a beautiful dress in navy satin staring back at me. The straps are strings of diamonds which follow the low dipped neckline to a sapphire-coloured gem at the bottom of the V.
Huxley joins me in the room a moment later, a matching towel hanging on his hips as he strides over to assess his suit. “I was ordered to change by that butler, he can be quite handsy when he feels like it.” I snort a laugh, sifting the silky material through my fingers. I have no interest in dancing along to Sharon’s tune, but my rumbling stomach protests loudly on cue. I guess we’re doing this. Dropping my towel, I reach for the dress before feeling Huxley’s eyes on my bare skin.
Straightening slowly, I meet his chocolate gaze and lick my lips on instinct. Huxley’s been my rock these past few days and for a brief, selfish minute I’m prepared to throw my morals away and allow him to ease my troubles. Pushing
