“I sawtwobodies being dragged out of here – Timothy’s, and a security personnel’s – so it’s possible she killed them both,” Magner adds.
“Seems like the only logical option,” Alex says.
“Where did you say they are holding her again?” Varsha questions Safiya.
She points to our right. “Behind the life-size hedges over to the si–”
“Dorran?”
We all turn around at once, and I see a man standing on the other side of the garden, assessing us all. His hands are clasped in front of him, and his posture is relaxed. The blue suit he’s wearing is hanging on by a thread against his short and stout frame, and as moonlight falls on him, it casts a sheen on his hairless head, and makes his skin appear pale.
“Yeah?” I answer, moving forward.
He gives me a slow once over, then smirks. “Mr. Byron would like to see you.Now,” he states. “You’ve kept him waiting longer than he’d like.”
Alex comes next to me, followed by Varsha, Solo, and Safiya.
“I think it goes without saying that he’s not meetingMr. Byronwithout us,” Alex says.
The man laughs darkly. “But ofcourse.”
“Heyman,” Safiya spits his name. “I see you’re just as swamp-lathered as the last time I saw you.”
He narrows his eyes at her. “Since when did you start fraternizing withcommoners? Last I checked, you were too busy flipping gold out of your posh ass, cruising through the streets of this city in your pretty little Harley. I didn’t take you as the charitable type.”
“With your boss craving his company so fuckingdesperately, I wouldn’t exactly call my brother a commoner. Wouldyou, Heyman?”
His gaze widens as he laughs once again. “Yourbrother?” he spits out. “Oh, dear Safiya; you reallyarea charitable one, aren’t you?”
She grunts under her breath and makes to go to him, but I gently grab her arm, stopping her. When she looks at me, I shake my head at her, to which she gives in, pulling away from my grasp.
“Right, that’s enough time wasted,” Heyman all but announces, glancing between us with a disinterested expression on his face. “Follow me.” Turning his back to us, he starts walking in the direction Safiya had pointed moments ago.
I let go of a breath, then slide Cigs’ Glock in my pant pocket before feeling around for my switchblade in the other. As the familiar weight of the weapon falls onto my palm, and its cool metal brushes my skin, I find comfort in its presence. Giving the others a nod, I follow after Heyman, with the sound of my thrumming heart echoing like an unwavering drum in my ears.
25.
“Get moving, come on,” says Chris, before yanking me up by the arm and hauling me forward.
I grunt as pain shoots through my shoulder and the side of my neck from the impact, then tumble as I try to keep up with his strides.
The asshole enjoyed himself thoroughly while beating my face until it was raw after Fredrick commanded him to hurt me. But you know what I find funny? The fact that none of his punches took me by surprise, nor do I mind feeling their sting on my skin right now. And I wanna say that it’s my mom’s brutality towards me that has made me this way, but that’d be a lie. Under the circumstances I was in at the time, I learnt to adapt, to accept, and to persevere. It’smewho did it all, nother.
The sound of crickets, along with the occasional hissing of cockroaches meets my ears, startling a few goosebumps out of me. I breathe through my nose as I work on calming myself, but when Chris all but shoves me forward while still maintaining his hold on my arm, I gasp as I try not to trip over my feet.
I still can’t see straight because of the injury on my head. My vision blurs every few minutes, and I keep falling in and out of a choppy slumber. Every inch of my body hurts, especially my wrists, which are still tied painfully behind my back. There’s this faint yet constant ringing in my ears that makes it hard for me to focus on the sounds around me for long periods of time, and I absolutelyhatebeing in a position like this because weaknessignites the subdued fear in my gut, and people like Fredrick – they excel on the taste of it.
I briefly glance at the guards behind me, and when one of them narrows his eyes at me, I snort and look forward, letting Chris drag me through the long, empty space behind the tall hedges. Just before we reach the clearing, though, Fredrick stops and says something to one of his guards, who nods and hands him a bottle of water. He turns and walks over to me – his cane pressing heavily against the grass – then stops right in front of me before forcefully untying the napkin from the back of my head.
I inhale a deep gulp of air through my mouth once the rough fabric has been moved away from it, then bend over as a violent cough rips out of me. The corners of my mouth are sore, so much so that I can’t part my lips wide enough without stretching the skin there and causing it to burn in pain.
Fredrick clicks his tongue as he steps away from me, and as I’m about to rise again, I see a blue water bottle cap falling to the ground. He bunches my hair in a fist and yanks at it, making me look at him. We’re almost the same height, so when he exhales, I can feel his hot, cigarette-laced breath on my cheek.
“Drink,” he says, placing the bottle’s opening over my lips.
My throat is drier than it was before, so I lean in and eagerly down a greedy sip of water. I’m about to drink more of it, but the bottle is pulled back, and before I can think of what’s happening, I feel a cold splash of water on my face. I yelp as it ignites fire against my tender wounds, pricks my eyes, and even enters my nostrils. I cough as I try to blink my eyes open, and because this was an abrupt attack, my head starts pulsing in agony against its impact.
Crude laughter fills the air, and I grit my teeth as I manage to clear my vision enough to glance at the assholes surrounding me.
