I pick up my pace, praying I don’t get pulled over for speeding, but breaking every speed limit and law by at least thirtykilometers an hour and pushing this car to its max. The bay house is a large, sprawling mansion of windows and balconies, overlooking the bay that leads out to the sea, with conservation land on all other sides. Samil took me there years ago after our father died, and we went out on his boat. He taught me to fish and how to use a knife to skin and debone.
The house sits three stories high up on stilts, and it’ll make getting in and out tricky. I can only pray that Jaqueline is still alive and I’m not too late to stop Signoria from having Antonia immediately kill her. I have the gun I took off the guard and the knife Samil gave me. A double-sided switchblade with a smooth edge on one side and a serrated one on the other.
The gun’s my second choice. I want them to feel their deaths, knowing there’s nothing they can do about it. I want to make them hurt.
I see the turn off to the road that leads to the bay house up ahead, and I pull along the side, tucking the car behind a bank of bushes and shrubs. I get myself ready, putting the gun back into the waistband of my pants and tucking my phone in my pocket. I keep my knife in my hand, ready to open it at a moment’s notice.
It’s a kilometer-long path that leads down to the house, bracketed in by thick marsh and wetlands. Birds fly high in the air, and the sound of insects is thick in the air. It’s hot and humid and a little miserable, even this close to the water. I haven’t been here since I was twelve or thirteen, and I don’t know if Samil has cameras. If he does and they’re monitored or even set for motion alerts, I’ll be made before I get close to the house.
The house appears ahead of me, and I keep low and tucked to the ground, edging the border of the tall grass. Signoria’s car is parked along the side of the house beneath one of the pillars. It’s not just Signoria and Antonia I have to deal with. It’s her driver, Cristo, too, since she never drives herself anywhere.
Sweat glides down my forehead and back. My heart bangs painfully against my ribs, but I tuck away my nerves, knowing that they won’t help me. The back entrance is up a deck that leads to the first floor. My sneakers make no noise as I climb the steps, my eyes tracking every window for movement. I crawl up to the back window and peer in, searching around. I don’t see anyone here. Just a bunch of furniture covered with sheets.
Slinking over, I test the back door, but it’s locked. Because of course it’s fucking locked. I check under the mat, but there’s nothing. There’s a small pot with a dead plant to the left of the door, and I search in that and find a small key hidden beneath it. Bingo.
Unlocking the door, I let myself in and shut it behind me. It’s quiet in here, which automatically sets me on edge. Reluctantly, I put the knife back in my pocket and remove the gun. I flip off the safety and tip it down at a forty-five-degree angle. Blood thrums through my ears as I take slow, even steps.
I move along the first floor, my ears searching, only to catch Signoria’s voice on the other side of the first floor. I move in that direction, my finger on the trigger of the gun.
I don’t want to shoot her, but I keep it ready all the same.
“What do you mean she went out?” Signoria yells.
“I don’t know, Signora,” Jacqueline whines, her voice carrying, even three rooms over. “She didn’t tell me where she was going. Only that she would return shortly.”
A loudclap,followed by the sound of Jaqueline whimpering, hardens my jaw.
“Insolent girl. I don’t want to hear your useless excuses. She’s not picking up her phone, and I need her here.”
Yeah, to do your dirty work.
“I’m sorry, Signoria, I don’t know where she went.”
Jacqueline’s voice is filled with tears, and I put my gun back and take out my knife, flip it open and handle it so the smooth side is facing out.
Movement catches my attention, and my head whips around, my knife pointed out, ready to strike. Rowan is standing there along with his bodyguard, both with guns pointed and murderous expressions.
Fuck. They followed me. Goddammit! How? I didn’t see them behind me. Then I mentally kick myself. Of course. My stupid fucking work phone.
Vehemently, I shake my head, waving my hand for them to leave.
What the fuck is he doing here? He’s the prince.
They’re going to ruin everything.
Rowan motions for me to get behind him.
“Go,” I mouth. “Leave.”
Does he have any clue how dangerous him being here is?
Rowan attempts to grab my arm, and I shirk him off, pointing the knife at him. His bodyguard raises his gun at me, and I flip him off.
“Get him out of here,” I breathe.
The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking makes me wince. Especially when I see the barrel is pointed directly at Rowan’s head.
42
