Page 98 of Stolen Rebel

The woman steps closer, lowering her voice. “What do I want? I want my daughter back, but that’s not going to happen now, is it?” She sneers at me as if I personally had a hand in killing her daughter. “After five years of being deprogrammed, you still insist on making bad choices.” She shakes her head like I’m a petulant child. “If you would like Liam to survive tonight, you will come with me. Alone. Now.”

“What?” My stomach’s in knots, hands shaking, and indescribable rage courses through my body. I’m so fucking tired of being a victim, of being told to jump and asking how high. If I ever get out of this mess, I’m changing all of it. I’ll be the one who tells people to fucking jump.

“How did you find me?” I need to know. I need to know how easy it was for her to locate me, follow me, and approach me in public.

Her expression doesn’t change. “My Brian thought you’d pull a fast one. He likes to believe he’s in charge of his own ideas, a bit of an idiot like his da, that one.” She rolls her eyes like he’s a naughty boy who just tipped over the sweet jar. “Thought that Mahoney monster would get back in your knickers. All I had to do was watch and wait for you to leave. You could have tried to make it a little more challenging.”

I’m not a violent person, but the taunting in her voice makes me wish I was. My heart slams against my ribs as I look around the room, searching for a way out. An escape route.

“Don’t bother. You’re coming with me, or your red-headed friend is going to…” She taps her lips. “How should I say this? Make her husband a widow.”

“I have security.”

She waves a hand like she’s an international criminal mastermind. It does nothing to help my molten insides. “Security is guarding the front.”

Ice slithers down my spine. She’s right, there aren’t enough people to cover the front and back, and they’re both sitting round the front. If there’s a back door out of this place… it’s just that simple.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“There’s a staff corridor through there.” She nods toward a door marked private. “Laundry, deliveries, fire exit. You will walk beside me like a sensible girl, and we will leave.”

“And Sorcha?” My voice cracks despite my best effort.

Her gaze sharpens. “If you scream, if you run, if you fight, if you alert that man guarding reception, my son will interpret that as escalation.” There’s something in the way she says “my son” that makes me want to vomit.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s bruising my ribs. If Liam is walking into something else… If there’s a chance Brian is outside and might hurt the two men trusted to protect me, or if Sorcha… I swallow the panic swirling in my body. Sorcha. The only person who’s been truly nice to me since I got here.

If something were to happen to her, her sick brother would be all alone. And that’s not even thinking about Liam walking into a trap. I can’t risk it. Brian is police. He has access to all kinds of resources. He can make terrible trouble for the entire Mahoney family if I don’t do as I’m told. There is no choice.

I square my shoulders. “Fine.”

“Good.” Her head tilts. “You really thought this was your happily ever after, didn’t you? That you’d survived? Silly girl, you were specially chosen.”

Chosen. Used. A pawn without a sliver of agency over anything. I despise this woman. She opens the staff door like she fucking owns the place. My mind’s racing, throwing up all kinds of ludicrous scenarios. The truth is, though, that I’m trapped. Once again, I’ve put Liam in danger, and there isn’t a thing I can do about it. Not without risking something happening to Sorcha.

The corridor beyond the door smells of bleach and clean towels. It’s nothing like the dim serenity out front. My slippered feet slap softly against the polished tile floor as I follow her.

“Walk normally.” She keeps her voice to a murmur. “You look like you’re being marched to your execution.”

“Aren’t I?”

She gives a soft laugh. “Oh, my goodness. So dramatic. How has my son dealt with you all these years?”

We reach a metal fire door, and she pushes it open. Cold air hits me in the face. Do I try to use my phone? Do I leave behind a slipper? Something to tell them which way I’ve been taken?

We step out into the rear car park. A dark saloon idles near the bins. Brian’s sitting inside looking like the cat who got the cream. One-upping the Mahoneys must be his idea of winning gold at the Olympics.

My stomach plummets. This wasn’t impulsive. It was as arranged as Liam having me bait Brian to the middle of nowhere. Except he’s right here.

I stop.

Brian’s ma grabs my wrist. “Don’t.”

My gaze flicks toward the street beyond the car park. If I run, if I scream, the security guard out front might hear. I open my mouth.