Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

WILLOW

T hey made it to a small, nondescript cottage that had no view of the ocean. What it did have was a clear, open field and, Mercy assured her, a roving patrol.

"I can't see anyone," said Willow, casting her eyes over the surrounding countryside.

"That's kind of the point. Trust me when I tell you they wouldn't be nearly as effective if they were easily spotted. But if any of those goons try to make a play for us, they'll be shut down before they know what's what."

"How long will I be here? What happens next? I hate to be a pain, but I have no idea what's going on or what to expect."

"Let me boil it down to you in one easy explanation. You are now in the care of the Shadow Sisters. We existed long before and will be here long after both the Shadow League and the Resistance. I work for and answer only to Brie Reynolds, who is the head of the Shadow Sisters. And while we work with the Resistance, we don't take orders from them. You have information that is vital to both law enforcement and the Resistance, but the Shadow Sisters will keep you safe regardless. If at any point in time we don't believe you are safe, we will move you."

"So, are we staying here?" asked Willow anxiously.

"Not for long. We are safe enough for a day or two, but if we can get you to one of Colby Reynold's strongholds, you'll be safer."

"Is Colby related to Brie?"

"Yes, they are ma… married. Colby is part of the Resistance, but he has always been an entity unto himself and has supported the Shadow Sisters for a very long time."

"You'll pass on the information I got out?"

Mercy nodded. "As soon as I get you settled, I'll see that it gets to where it'll do the most good, but again the Shadow Sisters keeping you safe has nothing to do with that."

"Then why help me?"

"Because you needed help. Our organization has existed for millennia based on the idea that women are often forced into untenable positions through no fault of their own. Our gender has been pawns of others for as long as anyone can remember." Mercy laid her hand on Willow's. "You're safe. I promise."

"I can't even imagine what you must think of me," said Willow, shaking her head. "I was a fool for so long, and then I didn't want to know."

"Stop that. You did what you had to do to stay alive, and then you chose to get out and to bring down LaFaucheuse. You gave me the information before I even had us out of there and told me to ensure that it got into the hands of those who could use it. You didn't make deals with it—didn't try and hold onto it until you were sure we would protect you. What you did was brave and heroic…"

"If not a little self-serving."

Mercy snorted. "What? You weren't supposed to try and save yourself? Don't be stupid. You dying wouldn't have helped anyone."

"But you don't know what I saw…" Willow whispered.

"The mind can play funny tricks on us when we're that frightened. I know you were terrified and still chose to act. I know the horrifying things you must have seen over the years, and still you chose to act. We'll get you whatever you need, including someone to talk to, but for now, get some rest. We'll be on our way within the next couple of hours."

It was no trick. She knew what she had seen, even if her knowing could make no sense of it.

Her mind whispered the words, but Willow chose not to argue. Instead, she started towards the small bedroom off the main living space. "Thank you, Mercy."

"You're welcome, Willow. Now get some sleep."

Willow slept fitfully for only a handful of hours. Her dreams were confused and violent.

In the dense forest clearing, tension crackled in the air as the two formidable beasts faced off. The grizzly bear, a towering mass of muscle and fur, stood on his hind legs, roaring a challenge that echoed through the trees. His eyes blazed with determination, knowing he had to protect what was his and all those who depended on him.

Across from him, the silverback gorilla bared his teeth, muscles rippling beneath his dark fur. The gorilla's eyes were cold and calculating, filled with malice. He had terrorized those in the forest for too long to be concerned with a mere bear.

With a sudden, thunderous charge, the gorilla lunged, swinging his massive arms with brutal force. The grizzly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a devastating blow, and countered with a powerful swipe of his own. His claws raked across the gorilla's chest, drawing blood and eliciting a howl of rage from the injured primate.

The gorilla retaliated with a flurry of punches, each one calculated to incapacitate. The grizzly absorbed the blows, his thick fur and hide providing some protection, but the force was undeniable. With a snarl, he surged forward, using his bulk to knock the gorilla off balance.

Both had sharp teeth and were massive, well-muscled killing machines, but the grizzly had the advantage of sharp claws that drew blood with each swipe.

The two clashed in a whirlwind of teeth and strength, each trying to overpower the other. The gorilla managed to land a crushing blow to the grizzly's side, momentarily staggering him. But the grizzly recovered quickly, using his immense power to grapple the gorilla and force him to the ground.

Pinned beneath the grizzly's weight, the gorilla thrashed violently, trying to break free. The grizzly snarled, his jaws closing around the gorilla's shoulder in a bone-crunching bite. The gorilla roared in pain, his struggles weakening.

With a final, determined effort, the grizzly slammed his full weight onto the gorilla, driving the air from his lungs. The gorilla's movements grew sluggish, his strength waning as he drew his last breath and succumbed to death. The grizzly stood victorious; his breathing heavy but triumphant as the silverback lay defeated beneath him.

The forest fell silent, the echoes of the battle fading into the distance. The grizzly raised his head and let out a roar of victory that proclaimed his dominance. The threat had been vanquished.

A chaotic, swirling mist flashing with a cacophony of noise, electricity, and shards of color enveloped the towering grizzly before fading away to reveal a broad-shouldered, well- muscled, naked man who seemed to display the wounds the gorilla had inflicted on the bear.

As the man turned toward her, Willow felt a rush of arousal and fear, and she stumbled back…

"Willow," said Mercy softly as she touched Willow's shoulder. "It's time to go."

"What?" Willow said, still caught in the last vestiges of the dream and momentarily disoriented before reality came crashing down on her. "Right."

They left the cottage in a different vehicle and drove to a small private airport. Willow glanced around. It wasn't much to look at, but again it was surrounded by an open field. It would be difficult for anything to sneak up on them there.

Waiting on the tarmac was a small, private jet. Mercy pulled up to the extended stairwell where a tall man in what appeared to be a butler's uniform stood waiting. There was something oddly familiar about him. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, the man headed toward them, opening her door and then Mercy's.

"This is where we part. The jet belongs to Colby and is here to take you to the most gorgeous island where you'll be safe."

"I thought you'd be coming with me," said Willow fearfully.

"No. I just get people out and to those who can keep them safe. Ensuring someone's safety over the long haul isn't really my forte, but I've been to Castello della Guardia. Don't let the thick castle walls fool you. On the inside, the keep itself rivals the most beautiful, elegant mansion you've ever been in. You'll love it there. It'll be like staying at a five-star resort. The guy in charge of your security is a man called Cage Weston. He can be a bit… uhm…" she seemed to search for the right word, "… taciturn, but there isn't anyone else I'd want ensuring my safety."

Willow's heart was racing despite the calm facade she wore. She trusted Mercy and didn't want to be turned over to anyone else. She'd waited months, planning her escape with meticulous detail, only to have the timetable moved up without warning.

A single misstep could have been catastrophic. But Mercy had gotten her here, and Willow had to believe she wouldn't hand her off to anyone she didn't believe could keep her safe. So now she was here, planning to board the private jet that would take her far away from the life she had been forced to lead.

She pulled Mercy to her and hugged her close. "Thank you."

Mercy grinned. "You're welcome. You'll be fine. Let others get your revenge or retribution for you. You just focus on having an amazing life."

Willow nodded and smiled before turning to ascend the stairs, each footfall taking her one step away from the life she had never wanted. The jet's interior was opulent, a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. Willow settled into one of the plush leather seats, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She had learned a lot during her time with Frank, snooping discreetly and piecing together the puzzle of his dangerous world. She had passed herself off as stupid, cowed, and oblivious, hiding her true nature behind a mask of naivete.

The dirt she had gathered on him and those with whom he did business, including the Shadow League, would, she hoped, prove invaluable. She believed it was the key to taking them down, to dismantling the network of power and corruption they had built. But there were complications—she hadn't understood that the Shadow League and the Resistance weren't even on the radar for law enforcement. She was a lone pawn, unprotected and at the mercy of a very wealthy and very dangerous man.

The engines roared to life, startling her as the jet rolled forward, gaining speed. Willow looked out the window, waving to Mercy and watching as the ground fell away beneath them. She was leaving behind a life of deceit and danger, but the fight was far from over. She clutched her bag tighter, knowing it held all that was left of the life she left behind.

Mercy would see that the evidence she had risked everything for would get to where it could do the most good. Willow knew she might be called on to testify or to offer information regarding things she had seen, but for which she had no corroborating evidence. She just had to survive long enough to use it.

The Shadow Sisters had been her first point of contact, whisking her away to the cottage not all that far from her and Frank's home. It had been an all too temporary haven, a place to regroup and rest before being moved to what Mercy had assured her would be a much safer place where they could plan her next move. Mercy had been kind, offering her warmth and safety, but the reality of her situation quickly shattered any illusion of peace. Willow's husband, Frank, had put out a contract on her. He literally wanted her head on a platter.

The Resistance had a plan, though, and promised to keep her safe. Now, she found herself on a private plane, this time heading to a fortress on a remote island where she was assured she would be protected. The stakes were higher than ever. Frank was a notorious arms dealer and was somehow involved with some kind of evil organization, and the evidence Willow had brought to the Resistance was damning. His involvement in arms dealing had led him to a partnership with the Shadow League who was far worse than he was, dealing in human trafficking, illegal medical research, drugs, and other nefarious activities.

Someone—he had yet to introduce himself—she assumed was with the Resistance sat across from Willow, his presence both comforting and intimidating. The stress of getting out and getting on this plane had left her feeling nauseous and woozy. Hopefully, it would pass. He was dressed like a butler, but she doubted that was his true vocation. Under the uniform, it was easy to see his well-honed physique, broad shoulders, and musculature. His hazel eyes held a depth of knowledge and strength that belied the role he seemed to be playing, which Willow found reassuring.

"We have extensive security measures in place," he began, his voice calm and measured. "The island is heavily fortified. We have guards patrolling the perimeter, surveillance systems covering every inch, and a special security force trained to handle any threat. You will be well protected."

Willow nodded, absorbing the information. The plan was to keep her in a safe, secure location until she was called upon to offer testimony. Mercy had assured her the likelihood of her having to go through a public trial was slim, and the evidence alone would be the nail in Frank's coffin. The Resistance wanted to protect her, but they also wanted to keep their ongoing fight with the Shadow League quiet.

"It's crucial that you stay out of sight and follow our instructions to the letter," he continued. "Your safety is our top priority, but we can only protect you if you cooperate fully."

"I understand," Willow replied, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. "I'll do whatever it takes."

The flight was long, giving Willow ample time to reflect on the events that had led her to this point. She had married Frank at her father's behest, knowing that somehow her not agreeing to do so could harm her family. She never quite believed Frank was the charming, successful businessman he portrayed to the world, but she thought his wealth could make her happy. It wasn't until later that she discovered his true nature, the darkness that lurked beneath his polished exterior. Her attempts to gather evidence against him had been dangerous, but she had managed to keep her cover, pretending to be the oblivious, subservient wife.

Now, the culmination of her efforts was within reach, but that didn't mean the path ahead wasn't fraught with danger. The Resistance had promised to protect her, but Willow knew she couldn't rely solely on them. She had to be vigilant, ready to act if things went wrong.

As the jet banked and began its descent toward the island, Willow's anxiety spiked. She peered out the window, seeing the sprawling castle below, surrounded by dense forest and a high, fortified wall. It looked like something out of a movie, and she hoped it would be enough to keep her safe.

The jet touched down smoothly, and the man guided Willow off the plane. A group of guards met them, their expressions stern and professional. They escorted Willow into the castle, where she was introduced to the head of the security team, who seemed to give some kind of deferential nod to the butler. She was given a brief tour of the premises, pointing out the areas to which she had access and those she did not.

The castle was a fortress, with reinforced doors and windows, hidden safe rooms, and an array of high-tech security features. Willow felt a little more at ease, knowing the lengths they had gone to in order to ensure her safety. But the knowledge of the danger lurking just beyond those walls kept her on edge.

Over the next few days, Willow settled into a routine. She spent most of her time either in her room reading or going over the information she had handed over to Mercy. The butler was never far from sight and checked in with her regularly, updating her on the security measures and offering words of encouragement.

"Don't you think I ought to know your name?" asked Willow one morning as he set breakfast on the table before her. She'd forgotten what Mercy had told her.

"Weston, ma'am."

Talk about taciturn. She remembered now his name was Cage Weston.

"Weston? That's it, just Weston?"

"Yes, ma'am."

So that's the way he wanted to play it; well, okay.

"Not much of a talker, are you, Weston?"

"No, ma'am," he answered before stepping back.

Willow shook her head. The sooner this was all over, the better. If she thought Weston was taciturn, he was nothing compared to those who came and went never saying a word.

Despite the precautions, Willow couldn't shake the feeling of being hunted. She knew Frank wouldn't give up easily; nor, she guessed, would the Shadow League. Their combined reach had to be long, and the resources they commanded vast. The castle's security might be impenetrable, but Willow had seen what Frank could do to those he felt had betrayed him. She knew she had to be at the top of that list and that he wouldn't rest until she had breathed her last. She knew she couldn't afford to let her guard down or depend solely on others.

One evening, as she sat by the bedroom window, gazing out at the darkening sky, there was a knock before Weston entered her room. There was a look of concern on his face that immediately put Willow on alert.

"We've received some intel," Weston said, his tone grave. "It seems your husband and the Shadow League have hired a group of mercenaries to track you down. They're highly skilled and very dangerous."

Willow's heart sank. She had known this wouldn't be easy, but the reality of the threat was daunting. "What should I do?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Nothing. We just wanted you to know. We've doubled the guards and increased surveillance," Weston replied. "We're doing everything we can to stay ahead of them. But I need you to be extra cautious. Don't leave the main keep without my permission and keep the phone we gave you with you at all times. If anything seems off, hit the panic button."

Willow nodded, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She couldn't afford to let fear paralyze her. She had come too far, risked too much, to let Frank win.

As the days passed, the tension in the mansion grew palpable. Willow remained vigilant, constantly aware of her surroundings. She trusted the security team, but the knowledge that Frank's mercenaries were out there, hunting her, kept her on edge.

One night, unable to sleep, Willow wandered the halls of the great keep. The quiet was unsettling, every creak and rustle amplified in the stillness. She found herself in the library, a room filled with towering shelves of books and a large, ornate fireplace.

As she stood by the window, staring out into the darkness, she heard a noise behind her. She turned, her heart pounding, but it was only Weston.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice soft.

Willow shook her head. "Too much on my mind."

Weston nodded, understanding. "I know it's hard, but you're safe here. We won't let anything happen to you."

Willow appreciated the reassurance, but the fear was always there, lurking in the back of her mind. "I just want this to be over," she admitted. "I want Frank, his minions, and their cronies to be brought down and put away. Then maybe I can start over."

Weston looked like he wanted to say something, thought better of it, and then said, "You will. You're stronger than you realize. You will get through this."

Willow took a deep breath, trying to draw strength from Weston's words, but there was something about them that made her wonder if he really believed them. She had to believe that she could make it through, that she would see justice done. For now, all she could do was stay strong, stay vigilant, and trust in the people who were fighting to protect her.