“Good.” I grabbed her arm. “Don’t make a fucking mess in the vehicle, or you’ll regret it.”
“Weak stomach for such a pretty thing,” Diesel observed as we got back on the road.
“She’ll toughen up,” I said. “Or she won’t last long.”
The words tasted like ash. Conversation shifted to other topics—the barn’s potential, the upcoming shipment, Oliver’s plans. I participated enough to seem normal, all while hyperaware of Mia pressed against my side. And the fact that if they were talking details, they had no intention of letting her out of this alive.
Another hour crawled by. We stopped once for gas, and I kept Mia in the SUV, my hand visible on her shoulder through the window.
“Almost home,” Diesel announced as he took the turnoff onto a dirt road.
The compound materialized through the trees—a single large building that used to be a summer camp lodge, plus some storage sheds scattered around. Oliver kept his operations compartmentalized—we were the advance team, checking sites, moving product. The real crowd would come later, for the Gathering.
The SUV stopped in front of the lodge.
I grabbed Mia’s arm. “Remember what I said,” I told her, loud enough for the others to hear. “You belong to me now. That means you do what I say, when I say it. Clear?”
She nodded, not meeting my eyes.
“I asked if that was clear.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, what?”
She looked up at me then, and the hatred in her eyes was real. Good. Hatred was safer than hope.
“Yes…sir.”
Tommy made a sound between a laugh and a choke. Diesel laughed outright. Even Snake’s mouth twitched.
“Fast learner,” Snake observed. “Maybe she’ll last longer than I thought.”
“Still think this is a bad idea,” Diesel said, lighting a cigarette. “Oliver’s not going to like surprises.”
“Then Oliver can take it up with me when he gets here,” I said. “Until then, she’s my problem.”
Diesel laughed. “Your funeral, Coop. Just remember, we all live here. These walls ain’t that thick. Better make sure she screams pretty—it’s been too quiet around here.”
I dragged Mia toward the lodge entrance, their crude laughter following us. Inside, a narrow hallway led to our rooms—four doors in a row, shared kitchen and living room at the front. No privacy. No escape. Everyone would hear everything.
I fumbled with the lock, aware of eyes still watching. Had to look eager. I shoved the door open harder than necessary, pulling Mia inside.
The room was sparse—a bed, small closet, tiny kitchenette, and a dresser. And I had my own bathroom, thank fuck. I’d kept everything militarily neat, nothing personal. Now it would be Mia’s prison.
I shut the door, turning the lock. The sound seemed to echo in the sudden silence.
She stood in the center of the room, arms wrapped around herself, looking lost.
“The bathroom’s there.” I pointed to the narrow door. “There’s a few snacks. Water in the tap’s clean. Don’t try to leave. They’ll kill you before you make it ten feet.”
“Ryan—”
“Don’t call me that.” The words came out harsh. “I’m Coop. Just Coop.”
“What’s happening? Why are you with these people?”
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t explain about the mission, about Oliver, about the weapons. She was better off not knowing.
