12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

L ayla inhaled a sharp breath when she heard his words. He didn't even look like the words he'd said bothered him. A prisoner?

And then Jackson closed the door. The sound of the locking door spurred her into action, despite how dangerous the whole place felt. She rushed forward and tried the handle, hoping she had just heard things, and this man hadn't really just locked her in a room. But the handle didn't turn. She tried it several times before she banged on the door.

"Let me out, you fucking bastard! This wasn't our deal!" she screamed.

Panic welled in her chest again. She'd put herself in this situation because she'd been desperate to keep Brit safe. Jackson had known she would agree to anything. He had taken advantage of her. For someone who had claimed to hate people who went back on their word, he was doing the same thing. He'd said she wouldn't be a prisoner! Jackson had made her think she would be free to come and go.

She banged on the door again, ignoring the pain it caused.

"Take me back to my sister! You can't keep me locked in here. I don't want to do this anymore!"

She didn't know how long she banged and how much she shouted when the door was unlocked again. She moved back moments before it was shoved open with so much force it would have hurt her if she hadn't moved.

Jackson entered the room, and his icy gaze pinned her to the spot. If she had thought he had been angry before, that was nothing compared to what she could see now. His eyes held burning hot fury as he walked towards her.

Instinctively, she stepped back. His anger was overwhelming, and it brought a sense of helplessness within her. She hadn't felt this hopeless since the early days after their mother had left them.

"You know we're in the middle of a dangerous forest, but you think shouting your lungs out and drawing attention is a good idea?" Jackson growled.

"I just want to get back to my sister," she whispered.

"Your sister is safe as long as you behave," Jackson said.

Behave? Behave?! Was she a child to be told what to do?

But she had already known this was Jackson's nature from the way he held himself and spoke to people. He seemed like the type to want to control everything, and she had ignored that red flag.

"Please don't lock me in," she begged.

She was still stepping back. She'd known the room was huge from the brief look she had taken, but now the open door, her only route to freedom, seemed miles away.

"It's for your safety, and everyone else's," Jackson said.

"That doctor said I'd be safe inside," she argued.

"Not if you keep screaming and giving everyone a fucking headache."

She bumped against the bed and realised she had nowhere to run. Jackson continued advancing until there was hardly any space left between them. And even with all her panic, anger, and fear, her body tensed because of his proximity. He looked like he had freshly showered—his hair was still wet, and she could smell the scent of his soap. And all she could imagine was how he would look naked.

She didn't want to have these thoughts about him, not when he terrified her, but she couldn't stop them. It scared the shit out of her. What did that say about her, that she could be attracted to someone who locked women away? Someone who scared her without having to do much?

Jackson's hand came up, and she flinched. He paused. Her body relaxed when she realised he wasn't trying to strike her. Maybe not now. But she could sense that he was capable of it.

He brought his hand to the back of her head and grabbed her hair, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"I'll give you one pass, Layla, because you don't know me yet," Jackson said.

His voice was deep and husky, the danger in it unmistakable. They were not lovers or friends, so his move was nothing but abusive. And yet all she could think of now was their bodies touching again. Her brain had short-circuited, and all her thoughts were unlike anything that had ever run through her mind. Instead of telling him to leave her alone, she whimpered. Whimpered, like she was begging him to do something.

Jackson's nostrils flared and his face became harder.

"If you defy me again, I will put you outside the compound gates and then tell my men to deal with your sister," Jackson hissed before he let her go.

She didn't realise he had been holding her up until she fell back onto the bed. Her legs shook, too weak to support her. Her whole body trembled as if she was coming out of some sort of trance.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow we get started," Jackson said, and he marched out again.

This time, when he locked the door, she did nothing. What could she do? Where could she go with no weapons and no clue how to get back to Brit?

Tears slipped down her face before she angrily wiped them away. There was no time for weakness. Being forced to grow up too early had taught her that. She would assess the situation as she had planned and decide on the best way to save her sister.

But first, she would shower and sleep. Though it was the middle of the night, the heat had only reduced slightly, so she was already sweaty even after a shower at the hotel. And rolling in the dirt hadn't helped.

She stood and looked around at what would be her cell for the next few days. Someone had put her bag inside the door; it looked completely out of place. Whatever this mansion was, they had furnished it better than the hotel. The quality was miles ahead. The enormous bed stood on a pedestal in the middle of the room. For the first time since she had stopped growing, she wouldn't have to sleep with her feet hanging over the bottom or curled in an uncomfortable position.

Thick rugs covered oak floors, and deep, comfortable sofas were on one end of the room while two doors were on the other. When she opened one, she realised it was a walk-in closet, bigger than the trailer she had called home and full of clothes. She had no idea why anyone would own so many clothes in the first place, and she wasn't interested in finding out the answer. The next door was the bathroom, and that took her breath away. Did all the rooms have bathrooms of this ridiculous size? It even had a seating area and double sinks, like bathing was a community exercise. Everything was shinier and more expensive than anything she had ever seen on the other side of the tracks in Wolfdale.

Maybe Jackson could afford to pay her the amount he had promised after all since he could afford to stay in places like this.

But thinking of him reminded her of his face, of his anger when he had barged into the room. Of the locked door that imprisoned her. And of the threat to her sister's life.

She was angry when she finally stood under the shower spray and washed all the grime off. She was still angry when she dried herself on one of the soft, super fluffy towels she found in a cabinet and wrapped her wet hair in another.

By the time she had roughly brushed her hair and put it in a braid while it was still damp, she couldn't imagine why she had let Jackson affect her so much. He was just a man, and the moment he had revealed his arrogance, these inappropriate feelings should have gone away.

But he was right. It was the middle of the night, so she couldn't do anything now but rest for whatever was to come. The mattress welcomed her body like a lover when she lay down. When was the last time she'd slept on a bed that wasn't lumpy? She couldn't even remember.

There had to be some sort of voodoo at work because her body relaxed entirely despite everything, and her eyes drooped. And as she fought her sleep, she realised there was no pain in her body. None at all. She'd knocked her arms a lot as she'd rolled over rough terrain, including the sharp stones and shrubs, before she had slammed into that tree. She'd hurt like a bitch.

But now she felt better than she had in a long time. Rejuvenated. Like she could face anything and win.

As sleep finally claimed her, she saw her sister's face again, and her resolve to take care of her strengthened. Her anger and resentment were useless here. It was Brit who mattered. She shouldn't be thinking of how to escape but how to stomach staying with a man like Jackson.

She didn't have to like him if he kept his word; at the end of it all, she would walk away. For Brit, she would do anything. Endure anything.

Even carrying a child for Jackson.