I turned, my lips wobbling as my eyes met hers.
Tears ran down her face, her hair braided back and her overalls smeared in grease from working down in the garage on whatever haul of cars mine and Thorne’s old crew brought in. She stumbled down the steps, her hands grabbing hold of me.
“You don’t have to go,” she begged, her throat raw. “Arden, please—stay. Don’t leave me here with him.”
Her words splintered me. I wanted to run back inside, lock the door, chain myself to her if that’s what it took. But the limo door opened with a soft click, three Creed peering out. Their gazes burned into my spine, but they were quiet as they watched us.
“I’ll come back,” I whispered. “A year, Leah. A year and maybe I’ll be worth so much that Viktor won’t be able to deny me if I say I won’t work again without you.”
She shook her head, tears sliding through her grease-smudged cheeks. “Arden,no. They take you and—” Her voice broke. “You’ll forget me. You’llbe…gone.”
I dropped the suitcase and crushed her to me, not because she was wrong but because I knew she was right. “I’ll try,” I promised into her shoulder. “I’ll always try for you, Leah. I swear it.” Her frame shook violently. I buried my face in her braid, breathing in the faint smell of motor oil and cheap shampoo. Everything familiar. Everything I was about to lose.
“You’re my only good thing,” I told her, voice breaking against her ear. “I don’t care where they send me, who they sell me to, what they make me do—I’ll carry you with me. You hear me? You’re stitched into me.”
Her nails dug crescents into my arms. “Show your teeth, Arden. Always.”
Kane cleared his throat at my back. “Gotta go, Doll. We got a jet to catch.”
I pulled back just enough to look at her, memorizing every line of her face. “If I don’t walk away now, they’ll tear us apart anyway. At least this way, I get to pretend it’s on my terms.”
Leah’s mouth opened, closed. A soundless sob. Then she pressed her forehead to mine, whispering, “Don’t let them kill the part of you that’s ours.”
I kissed her cheek—grease, tears, everything—and then forced myself to step back, to pick up the suitcase, to climb inside the car without looking over my shoulder.
It was my first heartbreak: Leah Hollis. Childhood friend turned distant nurturer turned…nothing. A shadow that would always hang over me. Not in a cruel way, but in the way shadows should. Sometimes you catch a glimpse, and it shatters you to know your past is still following. Other times, it steadies you—to know life is linear, that depending on the direction of the sun, your shadow sometimes walks beside you, hand in hand, toward whatever comes next.
I shoved my tears away with the back of my hand as I slid into the seat beside Thorne, Rafe and Kane across from us. Thorne’s arm curled warm and protective around my shoulders, but there was no comfort in it. My eyes stayed locked on Leah, her small figure crumpled in the driveway, sobbing, as the limo carried me through the gate.
Then, slowly, my gaze found Rafe’s. In the darkness of the limo, he was unwavering in the way he stared at me. Thorne and Kane nodded off to sleep, butRafe—the look he gave me wasn’t from a man; it was from the mirror I looked into at fourteen years old, the one that held a million tragedies, that I was sure would one day hold my own reflection. It was challenging me, taunting me,promisingme.
My head tilting slightly as I leaned into Thorne’s side, I held Rafe’s stare. He sat nearly ramrod straight in his seat, one ankle hooked over his knee, legs spread. His hand balanced on his propped leg, a bottle of brandy held by the neck, half-empty. Ever so slightly, he lifted it, the challenge in his eyes even brighter.
Cheers, he seemed to say, tipping the neck toward me. It wasn’t enough that Thorne would’ve noticed, but I did. I thought about the carving on my bed, how I'd traced over it with my switchblade hoping to taste some semblance of freedom, and my mouth hooked into a sideways grin.
Cheers to the great escape, Rafe Creed, I hoped he saw in my expression, and I knew he did when he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a long drink. His dark lashes folded shut, his exhale filling the cabin. His shoulders shifted down, tension leaking away for a fraction of a second before it returned. Still, he kept hiseyes closed, his head tilting back against the headrest, the bottle of brandy settled back on his knee, and still, I watched him. I saw the flicker of his pulse in his throat, the tiny taps of his fingers against the charcoal suit pants he wore. Except they weren’t taps. He was tracing something on his knee. Letters, a symbol, I didn’t know until I followed the movement enough to recognize it.
C—R—E—E—D. Over and over.Creed.
My brow furrowed before I felt his eyes on me again. I dragged my focus up when his fingers stilled, and all I saw was sadness. I knew it well, and I hated that it brought me comfort to see it reflected.
The jet touched down on a runway cut into nowhere. It was just a slab of concrete lit by rows of floodlights and swallowed by black forest that seemed to stretch forever. When the cabin door opened, cold, mountain air slapped into me as my focus found the sight of a compound ahead. It rose from theearth like it had been carved straight out of the rock. High, concrete walls crowned with coils of wire were connected by guard towers at each corner. At its front was a steel gate wide enough to roll a tank through, the doors open. Beyond it, I glimpsed glass and stone, geometric and severe, every window glowing white. It wasn’t a house. It wasn’t even a mansion. It was a fortress.
Dread had been a constant companion in my life, but I’d never felt it as keenly as I did in that moment. Viktor’s estate was armed with a single gate. That place—whoever bought us—was never going to let us leave. I knew it in the depths of my soul, so much so I stopped in the aisle of the jet, my hand yanking in Thorne’s. He turned to me, that same dark acceptance on his face. We held each other’s gazes for a small moment until finally my feet moved again.
Everything had a price.Everything. I just prayed the compound was the worst of it.
Armed men waited at the foot of the stairs, their formation neat enough to make the limo ride from Viktor’s feel like child’s play. Black SUVs idled behind them, engines low, headlights burning into the night.
Thorne’s shoulder brushed mine as we stepped onto the tarmac. He inhaled sharply, eyes darting to the walls, the towers, the guns. Rafe led the way, knuckles white against his duffel. Kane had his gaze on the gate, jaw tight.
We were all thinking it in that moment. I know we were.
We were fucked.
Soldiers herded us into the convoy without a word. The ride lasted only minutes, just long enough for the walls to close in around us. The compound spread wide into manicured courtyards, glass walkways, and fountains pouring into stone basins. Luxury and prison. At least that part wasn’t new. The amount of wealth was unlike anything I’d seen, but the darkness looked the same.
They stopped us in front of what had to be the main building. The doors were two stories tall, black metal with veins of gold running through like scars. When they opened, light poured out—sterile and so bright I squinted.
