I take off like a shot, racing toward the dense forest and it feels good, blood pumping through my veins, stretching my legs and pushing myself. A quick glance over my shoulder shows no one in front, spotting my escape.
There’s a tall stone wall and iron gates guarding the entrance to the estate, but stone is much easier to climb than iron bars or worse, barbed wire. I’m over the wall, landing heavily on the other side in less than two minutes.
“The time is good, the landing was shite,” I lecture myself, wincing at the twinge in the knee I landed on. Racing through the trees, I keep an eye on the road. Fortunately, Dougal’s security team does not include dogs, which would make this far more difficult. If I can get a good ten-minute head start, it’s going to be hard for them to track me.
Shouts rise up, loud enough to be heard over my labored breathing. Sweet baby Jesus, they got the fire out that fast? I angle farther away from the road, leaping over fallen tree trunks and skirting bushes. I can already hear the gates open and the roar of the ATVs the guards use.
“You have this,” I gasp between measured breaths. It sounds like one of the ATVs has already left the road and is moving through the trees. It’s impossible for them to move as fast on four wheels as I can on two feet with vegetation as thick as this. He’s still too close and I must move further away from the road. There are more rock outcroppings here, which means more loose stones and I have to watch my footing. I’ve been running for nearly an hour when I slow to a walk, rubbing the stitch in my side. My coach at the Academy would be disgusted with me, needing rest so soon.
“I really need to start working out more,” I grumble.
When a terrified brown hare bursts from the underbrush, I yelp, stumbling backward, and the gravel underneath my boots slides out from under me. There’s no excuse, I know there are loose stones everywhere. Windmilling my arms for balance doesn’t help, I’m rolling down a steep incline and for one second, I grab a bush and think I’ve stopped until it pulls loose and sends me flying over a cliff, scraping my face, and then my side and then I land on the ground and feel my ankle twist in a direction I did not know was possible.
Lying on my back, staring up at the sky, I want to scream. Not because of the pain, though there’s plenty, I want to howl at the sky like a rabid wolf because I can’t believe I made my captivity even worse.
Chapter Thirteen
In which Isla questions her life choices.
Isla…
I am such an idiot.
I’ve hiked the Munros around Glasgow. I know how steep and unpredictable they are. Yet I still ended up at the bottom of this ravine. Pulling my boot and sock off, I stifle a moan at the sight of my already purple foot and ankle.
“If I can still wiggle my toes, that means the foot isn’t broken, right?” I ask the tree next to me. It has nothing helpful to offer, so I slowly try wiggling my toes. They don’t like it, but they wiggle. Taking my boot off may have been a mistake because my foot’s already too swollen to wedge it back in.
Gingerly scooting into a more comfortable position, I try to take stock. My elbow’s scraped pretty badly, but it’s not bleeding anymore. My neck aches as I look up at the edge of the ravine. It’s about four and a half meters above me, and the sides are sheer; crumbled rock and chunks of granite and dirt. Not that I’m capable of trying to climb out right now. The ravine stretches up the mountain, out of my sight so maybe there’s an easier way to get free of this place. Below me, it narrows to a point where only water can get through the granite boulders.
The sky is still light, but I’m guessing it’s late afternoon, maybe early evening. Which means I’m going to have to find a source of warmth soon for tonight. Temperatures plummet in the mountains, even in summer. Searching my pockets, I want to scream when I find that I lost the army knife and the lighter in my plunge over the cliff.
The thought hits me for the first time. What if no one finds me? I was so sure of where I was heading, following parallel to his terrible, pitted road, just out of sight. Then, a worse realization; falling to my death could be the best of all things for Dougal. He wouldn’t have to keep me under lock and key and the secret of their mysterious little box would never see the light of day. It would die with me.
The darkness comes sooner than I’d expected.
Pulling together as many branches, pine needles, and moss as I could reach, I’d created a debris bed. This would not be a pleasant night, but the shelter would keep me warm enough.
“A phone would have been helpful,” I lecture myself. “I should have knocked out one of the guards and stolen theirs.” I obsessively planned the heists Papa assigned me. I knew every detail, I always made sure there were three different ways to get out, no matter what went wrong. And here I went galloping down the mountain with nearly no forethought and next to no supplies.
“Genius. Really. Absolute genius.”
Gingerly rotating my foot, I bit back a moan. The swelling was worse, hopefully, it will go down overnight because tomorrow, I must find a way out of this ravine. I learned how to create a splint during survival training at the Ares Academy, but it will be easier to climb with a foot that isn’t the size of a soccer ball.
Looking up into the sky as the stars appear in glorious layers, the Milky Way soaring across the heavens, I wonder about the box. Whatever it is, Papa and the MacTavish’s believe it would end both families. By whom? What about it is so dangerous that it could bring down an organization powerful enough to crush both families?
Resentment for Papa is growing in my chest. He should have told me more. He should have warned me. I always know the background of the item I’m stealing; I should have pushed past his refusal to tell me. This time, I’d just known that the strong, courageous man who’d always championed me was terrified. He hid it well, but I’d let my worry for him keep me from asking more questions.
Rubbing my eyes, I swear to be smarter tomorrow. I’ll get myself out of here, find my way home, and annul this marriage.
And learn to ask more questions before agreeing to another job.
And maybe set fire to the magnificent MacTavish mansion. Burn it right to the ground…
Firelight is flickering behind my eyelids and I bolt upright. I’m in a strange bed, my foot and arm’s been bandaged and I’m warm, blissfully warm. Clearly, I’m back at the lodge. It’s not my bedroom, the bed is bigger, a king-sized four-poster bed with a thick mattress, and the furniture is heavy and darker.
“How are you feeling?” Dougal enters the room with a big tray of food.
“I’m… okay. How did you find me? I’ve been unconscious this entire time?”
