“Sorcha.”
I barely stifle a scream as Steven steps up behind me as I’m about to open my door.
“Sorry,” he says sheepishly as I put my hand to my chest.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, looking up and down the hall. “Did you get in trouble for talking to me, then?”
“No, he just sent me to outside guard duty,” he murmurs. “Look…” he rubs the back of his neck, “I can’t agree with what the Boss is doing. He never used to be like this. I can get you out of here. You can contact your family and go home.”
“Thank you!” I whisper. “How are we doing this?”
“Meet me here at one am. I’ll scramble the security cameras so they’ll be focused on the problem. I can get you into the garage and we’ll drive through the gates with you hidden in the back of the car.”
“I’ll be saying it again, thank you!” I say fervently. “I’ll be here.”
He smiles and nods to me before heading back down the stairs that lead to the old servant’s entrance.
There’s an uncomfortable cocktail of adrenaline, fear, and relief surging through my system, making me hot, then cold, then shaky.
I’m going home.
***
When the clock on my bedside table reads 12:59 am, I’m carefully opening my bedroom door. Along with giving me a - limited - run of the house, they’re not locking me in my bedroom at night like a runaway teenager.
My hand is shaking as I turn the door knob.You are a MacTavish.I remind myself.You are a dragon. You are strong enough to survive the life that was given to you.
Steven is waiting for me, shifting from foot to foot. “Let’s go,” he whispers, and I follow him down to the back entrance. “Remember. Complete silence.”
“Aye,” I nod furiously.
He opens the door to the back lift - how did I not know there was another lift? - and I anxiously watch the numbers on the display go down from the penthouse to the parking garage.
I nearly jump out of my skin at the loud ‘ding!’ as the door opens into the dimly lit concrete garage.
Stepping out of the lift, I look around. “Which car are we taking?”
“Well, about that.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again.
The lights suddenly brighten, lighting up the garage like its high noon. My captor steps out from behind a Bugatti, along with sixteen of his guards filling in a circle around us.
“Youbastard,”I snarl. “You set me up? Why?”
Steven is grinning and it’s my captor who answers me. “You need to know that escape is impossible,” he says. His eyes look pitch black, like a demon’s and I wonder if this is the moment he kills me. “I am disappointed you were foolish enough to attempt it. Get back in the lift, there will be consequences for your behavior.”
In a scene depressingly reminiscent of the last time I entered a lift with him, I scream and kick, bucking against the two guards hauling me in by my arms.
“Feck you, ya’ bastard!” I don’t care what I say anymore. “Dobber! Bampot! Ya’ feckin’ walloper!”
His posture is perfect, hands casually in his pockets and he ignores me as I hurl insults at him all the way back up to his penthouse prison.
Chapter Fourteen
In which Sorcha learns just how tough she can be.
Sorcha…
It takes twenty steps to go from the ensuite bathroom to the French doors in my bedroom.
