Biting my lower lip, I drop the conversation for a while, though it’s harder to be as excited about my sketches as before. As thrilling as it sounds to try and pull off a job like this without getting caught… what’s the point? To make a rich man even richer? I already know that after I’ve managed to pay off the fifty thousand dollars, he’s going to find some excuse to never let me go. I’ll have been a witness to countless crimes that I not only had a hand in, but he profited from.
And while it’s still a better life than the one I was living, I can’t help but look at it from Maverick’s perspective now. Deals with the devil, the lesser of two evils, but still lives that aren’t truly ours to control. We live only on his mercy, something that can be snatched away in an instant, and we have no backup plan if he decides he no longer has a use for us, deems us more trouble than we’re worth, or a threat.
They say Grave is a rabid dog, but we’re all just as at risk of being put down for merely following the orders of our master.
“My mom tried to run,” I whisper, intently focused on shading the corner of my page. “Started sleeping with one of the men on a neighboring farm, hoping it would be enough to convince him to get her out, away from my father.”
My hand stills as my eyes close, remembering the tears streaming down her face. “He was gone for a week, but I was too crippled with fear to leave. I knew what he was capable of, wasn’t sure when he’d be back. And I was right.”
A rattling breath escapes my shaky lungs. “He killed him first before dragging her back. She made it three days of him torturing her before she finally died, and at that point, even I was begging for her death, just so she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.”
I clench my eyes shut tight as I force the last bit out, never voicing it before. “And when she tried to take me with her, I thought it was the dying act of a madwoman, not seeing it as the mercy killing that it was supposed to be.
“She wanted to save me from suffering at my father’s hand, but I was too young and ignorant to realize that until years later. I actually thought when he stopped her that it was because he loved me, was trying to protect me, despite knowing better deep down. That hope lasted all of two days before he sobered up enough to remember that his wife cheated on him and tried to leave, and she wasn’t there for him to take it out on anymore; only me.”
Startling as a hand falls on my knee, Maverick swiftly withdraws it as my eyes fly open, him now sitting up beside me. “Fuck, sorry. I just,” he trails off, not sure exactly what to say and realizing there really isn’t anything that needs to be.
“You’re fine, I’m just jumpy.” Forcing a rueful smile to my face, I pass the sketchbook his way, needing a mental break for a little while. “Ghost stories still get me, even if I’m the one telling them.”
His face doesn’t match the humor I’m going for, appearing as annoyed as usual. The pale scars covering his deeply tanned skin stand out harshly in the artificial lighting, and I have to wonder if that was a result of the ‘hellhole’ he grew up in, or if they were gathered through working and add to his disdain of the man that proclaims himself a savior.
“Why the fuck would you choose this instead of running?” he demands, voice hard, and I pale at the direct scrutiny he pins me under.
He refuses to play games under the illusion of being polite, doesn’t pander to the typical bullshit. He goes right for the jugular and doesn’t give a damn if it makes someone uncomfortable.
“I didn’t have anywhere to run. No money. I’d have been stuck whoring myself out on the street and sleeping with one eye open, knowing he’d catch up and kill me eventually. This life may come with a multitude of chains, but I still feel safer with you guys than I ever have. So call me stupid and a fool if you want, but I’d make the same decision again in a heartbeat rather than take my chances on my own.”
Heat starts to mottle my cheeks. “You have no clue what it would be like to be a woman on her own without knowing how to defend herself.” My voice starts growing with my vehemence and I have to consciously remind myself to dial back the volume. “Freedom sounds glamorous, but only if you have the funds and strength to capitalize on it. If not, it’s just a death sentence. So excuse the hell out of me for picking the cage that comes with a hand that feeds me instead of beats me.”
Tongue in cheek, I yank the sketchpad away from him and open a new page, my pencil leaving heavy gouges in the paper as I make broad strokes without rhyme or reason. I just want to distract myself, something to give me a chance to cool down before I say anything that I might regret.
Done with the guard rotations and camera placement, I focus on what might make an ideal target. Not the most prominent piece that everyone that passes by stops to look at, but the underrated pieces that deserve far more recognition than they get.
“I’m glad you came, but I hate that you chose him,” he whispers so quietly that I’m not sure if I heard him correctly.
Pressing my lips into a flat line, I war with myself, unsure if I should reply or not. And though I’ve been trying to stay out of everyone’s business up until now, not wanting to make waves, it just doesn’t feel as life altering with Maverick as it does the rest of them. I don’t need to overthink my actions and words, because I’ll be a burden to him regardless.
“I didn’t choose Julian,” I admit softly, like I’m afraid that he’ll be tapped into the cameras here too. “He’s my boss.”
Maverick scrubs a hand down his face, looking pained for a brief second before his features harden once more. “It’s more than that, and you damn well know it. He has an interest in you now, and fuck, I don’t know if you’re ready for that, Elyse. But if you’re strong enough? You’ll have everything you didn’t even know you wanted.”
Using my thumb, I start blending the lead into a shade of smoke. “And if I’m not?”
He waits to answer until I reluctantly meet his eye. “He’s a jealous man. He won’t tolerate whatever you have going on with Grave and Everett, no matter what he says. You want the world to fall at your feet, you need to be prepared for the sacrifices it demands.”
“You’re missing one,” I deadpan, looking at the tray full of everything they confiscated from me the minute I stepped foot in the building. Yet my favorite pocket knife is notably absent.
The officer sneers at me. “This is everything. Be grateful you’re walking out of here at all.”
I don’t touch a single thing on the tray. “Takes some balls to steal while wearing that uniform. For the sake of mutual respect, I’m going to ask again nicely. Check again; you’re missing one.”
“There a problem, officer?” Daniel strides over, the others already starting to trickle out of the station and outside to catch a ride back to their cars, happy to get the hell out of here after as long as it took for the lawyer to work his magic.
The man across the desk from me wipes the sneer from his face to replace it with one of annoyance. “Just ready for the guy to grab his shit and get out.”
Daniel glances at me in question and I run my tongue over my teeth, reminding myself I need to play nice. “He’s missing one. I didn’t touch the tray so there’s no excuse of me trying to pull something. Black knife with a ‘G’ engraved on it.”
Daniel looks back at the officer, donning his no-nonsense voice. “Perhaps you could check again before I need to pull the tapes for his processing.”
