How could she?
She was his prisoner, and he had zero reason to care whether she lived or died. Okay, that wasn't entirely true. He wanted information from her, but that was it. She still absolutely believed that once he had that information, he and his team were planning on torturing her and killing her. Or maybe just killing her if they believed she’d been just a child when she was forcedinto this world. But in the end, dead was dead, and what else would they do?
Let her go?
Not likely.
Why let go of a perfectly good target for revenge when you could just kill them and be done with it?
Even if they let her go, she had no job, no identity, no money, no home, no family, she had nothing and nowhere to go. It wasn't like she could set herself up with a fake identity the way she had before, because then she’d been using Dr. Gardner’s funds to set everything up.
“Not sure your high IQ is going to help us with this one, darlin’,” Blade replied.
There wasn't really an argument she could give him to that. What good was a high IQ in a gun fight? She didn't know how to shoot, didn't want to know how to shoot, and didn't want to shoot anyone.
“But they’ll see me here, I'm right above the car,” she protested as the roar of engines grew closer.
“Which is exactly why they won't see you. They’ll check the car, and when they see it’s empty, they’ll start fanning out to search for you. Now go, Whitney. Climb. Now.”
The order made her whimper, but it also got her moving, and she did her best to grab hold of the branches and get up out of sight. Her arms were aching and trembling with exhaustion, and she’d never climbed a tree before in her life. Outdoor play hadn't been on her childhood schedule, and once Dr. Gardner got his hands on her, no type of play was permissible. She was a tool to be used, not a living, breathing child who might be a genius intellectually but was still a little girl emotionally and psychologically.
When she heard car doors slamming and voices shouting, Whitney froze. Looking down, she saw that Blade was no longerdown there by the car, he’d disappeared somewhere and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was gone for good.
There really wasn't any reason for him to stick around. Chances were, the men searching for her had no idea that he was even with her. They were looking for her not him, and while if they spotted him, they would try to capture him alive to deliver to their boss, Blade was more than likely able to take them.
Briefly, she wondered if he might make a deal to save himself, tell them she was there, and he wouldn't kill them all if they let him go, but he wouldn't really even need to do that. Even if they didn't look up this tree right away, they would sooner or later. She had zero skills to survive out there in the woods, and while she might be able to make it back to the farmhouse, eventually the guards would find it.
Her gamble to stick close to the lab, thinking Dr. Gardner would assume she fled the country had obviously failed. She should have run when she got the chance, as fast and as far away as she could get.
Beneath her, she saw half a dozen men dressed all in black, carrying huge weapons, approach the crashed vehicle. They had those weapons pointed at the driver’s seat.
Right at where they thought she was.
If they got their hands on her, she was as good as dead.
Not literally. Dr. Gardner needed her too much to kill her, but he’d double down on security for her. Keep her locked up permanently, refuse to let her have any access to the outside world, and restrict even more the little freedoms she was allowed. There would be a physical punishment as well, Whitney didn't doubt that. Something horrible, maybe even something that would leave her permanently disabled. Breaking her back and paralyzing her, confining her to a wheelchair would be something she could see him doing. Being unable to walk would make escaping nearly impossible.
“She’s not there,” a voice spoke, one she recognized as belonging to one of the guards who worked at the lab. He’d always been one who leered at her, talked to her like she was a child, and watched her a little too closely. He’d given her the creeps, and she didn't doubt that he’d want to join in on delivering whatever punishment Dr. Gardner issued her.
“Can't have gotten far away,” another spoke, she recognized him too.
Holding her breath, Whitney kept expecting them to just look up and spot her. It was probably easier for her to see them than it was for them to see her, but still, she was dressed in jeans and a soft yellow sweater, she stood out in the tree, and these men were trained guards.
If they looked up, they would see her, it was as simple as that.
But for some reason, they didn't look up.
Instead, they started discussing how they would find her.
“We should split up,” one suggested.
“In pairs,” another added.
“Shouldn’t take us long, after all, how far can the baby genius go on her own?” someone else asked with a snicker.
She hated that nickname. Abhorred it. The youngest of the guards were in their late twenties, which wasn't all that much older than her. Twenty-two was hardly a baby, even if she’d basically been one when Dr. Gardner first acquired her.
It was no wonder nobody knew anything else about her, though, that her intellect was the only thing that existed as far as the outside world was concerned. She herself wasn't sure who she was outside of her high IQ, she’d never been given a chance to find out. More than half her life she’d been kept locked up, forced to work long hours creating a drug she didn't believe in, especially with the side effects Dr. Gardner’s meddling kept causing.
