I exhale in relief knowing we’re on the same page, though my stomach is still a tangle of knots. “How much further?”
“Not far now.” He stops the van so I can trade places with Bec. I climb into the back and she takes my spot up front, all of us prepared to put on the performance of a lifetime.
Delilah
Present Day
“Well-behaved women seldom make history.”– LAUREL THATCHER ULRICH
The crunching of the gravel beneath the tires fades as the van comes to a stop. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. My breaths are coming out in short pants, causing the nausea from the boat ride to return in full-force.
Oh god.
My mind runs through every worst-case scenario, playing out my intrusive thoughts like I’m watching some kind of horror movie. I’m spiraling—already—and I haven’t even gotten out of the van.
Benji sees me panicking and offers me a water bottle. “Deep breaths, okay?”
I take a drink before locking onto Benji as he talks me through some breathing exercises.
“Inhale two, three, four. Exhale two, three, four.”
I follow his lead, going through several rounds as he counts for me until my breathing has finally evened out. “Thank you.”
He gives me a shy smile. “Always works for me.”
The distinctive thump of a car door closing has my head snapping toward the back of the van. There are no windows back here, so I can’t see what’s going on. Muffled voices travel through the metal walls, but I can’t decipher who’s speaking or what’s being said.
I close my eyes and repeat the mantra I stole from Bec, offering a quick thank you to her nan, wherever she is.
I must, so I will.
The door creaks open, spilling a blinding white light into the back of the van. I shield my eyes against the sun before Bec crouches down and shuffles to me, wrapping her arm around my bicep.
“Ready?” She keeps her voice low, but I only manage to nod.
She leads me out of the van, her grip firm. My eyes adjust to the change, and I take in my surroundings for the first time. We’re in what I’m sure used to be a parking lot but now just looks more like a clearing among the thick pine trees. There’s a lake in the distance, though it’s eerily quiet. Whatever wildlife makes their homes here have gone into hiding upon our rude intrusion.
A second vehicle—a black SUV—is parked several yards away. Two Brotherhood guards in full tactical gear and masks stand on either side of the car, watching us like hawks.
And there he is: impeccably dressed in his typical three-piece suit, not a hair out of place on his arrogant head.Gabriel. As soon as my eyes connect with his I drop my gaze, and I’d be lying if I said it was part of my performance. After so many years under his thumb, the submissive response is automatic. I hate myself for it.
“Delilah,” he says. There’s no softness to it, no warmth. It’s a command.
A claim.
I’ve never liked my name less.
I keep my eyes on the ground, forcing the expected response past my lips. “My lord.”
“Where are the women, Gabriel?” Maverick gets straight to business, and I’m grateful for the distraction.
Gabriel whistles, and one of the guards says something into his radio. A moment later, a van—not dissimilar to the Rebel’s—comes into view. It stops and parks near the SUV before the women I’m being traded for stumble out. They’re all well past their childbearing years, and they look absolutely terrified. The Brotherhood probably didn’t tell them anything, the pricks. I’d be scared too, probably thinking I was being sent to my death rather than my salvation.
“As promised: ten worthless hags.” The guards cackle at Gabriel’s joke.
Maverick leads the terrified women over to our van, offering a hand and helping them step up into the back one by one. Only once they’re all loaded does Bec release her grip on my arm.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, my old friend,” Gabriel says with a cocky grin.
