CHAPTER FOUR

Quiet slivers of conversation spilled through the open doorway of Father's office. The crack divulged secrets I was never supposed to hear but tended to simply because no one ever expected me to do anything about it. After all, no one worried about a lamp telling the enemy the plans to attack. I was less important than a lamp. A lamp gave light. I did nothing.

I picked at the tattered edges of my wounds. The raw skin stung but had already started to scab on both palms. They would eventually heal and become thin, white scars like the others.

I sighed and glanced up at an oil painting of two men in frilly collars hunting a beautiful, red fox in the distance. One held a musket, the barrel smoking as if recently fired while his friend gripped his shoulder with one hand and laughed. A small mountain of colorful carcass lay at their feet. Their plumage splattered crimson.

I loathed the monstrosity.

Even as a child, the scene chilled me as I sat outside my father's door, waiting to be acknowledged. I wondered if my last — my only — act of rebellion should be to toss the thing into a fireplace. There were at least five all over the house. By the time it was spotted, the foul depiction would be ashes.

But I wouldn't.

That wasn't me. I had no fight. No backbone. Years under Mother's ruthless reign had properly and thoroughly scrubbed me of any and all voice. I didn't think I would know how to fight back even if I was given the chance. Not without recognizing that punishment would be swift and without mercy.

I caught my fingers before they could dig clean nails into flesh again. They trembled as I unfurled the stiff joints. My breath wheezed across the curves of my ribs, jagged and scared even to my own ears. A deep part of me knew Mother couldn't possibly know I was thinking of misbehaving, yet I gritted my teeth over the rise of nausea building in my throat.

"Stop it. Stop it. Stop it," I whispered to myself, willing the chills to subside before I was sick outside my father's door.

Mother would beat me senseless. Then she would make me clean it.

I took another breath.

"Naya!"

The snap of my father's gruff bark shattered my attempts to self-calm. My body reflectively flinched before I caught myself and rose to my feet.

Heavy curtains of sunlight illuminated the sparsely decorated chamber, lancing off gleaming white marble and creating a blinding glow that momentarily stung the eyes. I winced at the attack, despite being prepared for it. My watery gaze drifted to the side view of the gardens that could only be seen from Father's office. The small corner overlooking an empty pond. I always wondered what else was there if I could find the courage to get closer.

I redirected my thoughts before they could show on my face and focused on the small, round man standing menacingly over the phone on his desk. His small hands pressed into the wood on either side of the device and he loomed close as if trying to intimidate the thing into complying.

"Hello, Father," I said softly from the doorway.

A thick finger was lifted to silence me. My father never even glanced away from the phone on his desk. His focused attention stayed on the device as if it owed him money.

"The money will be there. Tell Ripken I need just enough to cushion me until after the game. He knows I'm good for it," he told it.

"Joseph, you already owe Ripken. He's going to want that paid before he spots you anymore,"came the disjointed voice from the speaker.

A muscle coiled in Father's cheek, creating a ripple beneath the folds of skin. Impatience bunched between his heavy brows as he bent even lower at the waist to address the machine.

"I will have the money by tonight, Gordy. Enough money to pay for everything in full. I just need—"

"No can do, Joe. We're running a business here. You already owe us a lot. We're not covering you for more until you show some good faith, okay? I get it, you've been a customer for a long time, but we've been good to you, too."

Father huffed. "Gordy, you know my daughter's about to marry into the Brixton family, right?"

I winced as I was brought into the conversation as if I wasn't standing right there.

"Joe—"

"Jarrett Brixton," he said again as if the name alone had the power to sway the man's decision. "Who I have on good authority from the man himself is about to sign a massive contract with Lacroix. They're best friends. Known each other for years. Practically brothers. Do you know what that will mean for both of us? That's a seriously handy connection, don't you think?"

The voice on the other end sounded resigned and tired when he exhaled. "Look, I get it, but if you didn't already owe for the last two races, I'd say no problem, but you're two in the hole and already behind. Now, you come in tonight and do what you say and pay off your loans, done. We're good. We can talk new business, but as it were right now, anyone else, we'd already have Little Billy and Mac paying you a visit at your lovely home. You get what I'm saying? So, I'll write here that you're coming in tonight to square up, okay? Don't let me down, Joe. I vouched for you, and I'll take it personally if you go back on your word ... again."

The line went dead, and Father stabbed the disconnect button. He continued to glower at the device as if it had personally betrayed him. Seconds cracked around us in sharp snaps I could almost physically count. But I remain still and quiet, so careful not to disrupt his thinking.

Father didn't hit. He left the violence to Mother. That was her specialty. Father was worse. He was indifferent. I was one of his paintings, there in passing and occasionally in need of correction by someone else, but unmemorable in his life as a whole unless I could somehow be used to sweeten a deal. He was never allowed to sell me or let anyone else touch me. Mother would have his head, but everyone liked a pretty girl they could grope under the table.

"Unbelievable." He muttered at long last but caught himself and glanced in my direction as if only just remembering I was there. "What are you doing? Where's your mother?"

"I'm not sure, sir, but you asked to see me?" I murmured.

He straightened, hands at his back as he pivoted to face me fully. "Yes, come in. I don't have much time." he motioned absently in the direction of the wood back chair facing his desk. He rounded to his side and took the soft leather chair that rolled smoothly over the glossy floors. "I hear today is the day."

I didn't feign ignorance. "Yes, sir."

Father nodded slowly. "Good. Excellent. Jarrett will be a good addition to the family."

I didn't think so, nor did I say anything. I simply sat with my fingers in my lap and waited for him to continue.

He cleared his throat. "Do you have everything you need?"

Not sure in what manner he meant, I simply nodded because even if I didn't, Father didn't actually want to hear it. It was a courtesy question. Like idle chitchat about the weather.

"I don't think I need to tell you just how important this ... arrangement is for our entire family. The Brixton family is very well connected and could open a lot of doors for us all. You will conduct yourself in a manner that will reflect well on your mother and I, and you will behave the way a man in Jarrett's position will appreciate. Understand?"

Again, I nodded. This was everything Mother had already gone over in lengthy detail, but he seemed intent on stressing the matter to me.

"I am sure he will take very good care of you so long as you remember that his needs must always come first." He shifted in his seat. Evidently as uncomfortable by the conversation as I was. "Is there anything you need?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you."

Father nodded slowly, gaze moving over his papers. The phone. His papers. The window to our right. His papers. He cleared his throat. "All right, well, I suppose that's everything. Go make sure you're ready for your trip this evening. I unfortunately will not be here to bid you farewell but call your mother when you arrive and I will see you at the wedding."

I rose promptly. "Thank you."

He said nothing as I left his office. He didn't stop me or tell me he would miss me. There were no emotions and that was fine; I wouldn't know how to respond to it anyway.

With nowhere to go, I returned to my room. I did another walk through to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Only a week's worth of clothing had been left out which had been packed up since that morning. My toiletries were already stowed away along with my makeup and hair things. All my luggage was piled by the front door downstairs. The room itself had never been cluttered with things and continued to look exactly as it always had, yet there was an empty hum to the air. Already the bed I grew up in looked foreign. I wondered if Mother would turn the space into a guestroom. Maybe another closet for her shoes. Whatever would ultimately become of it was no longer my concern, except...

I wandered over to the window seat and gingerly perched on the edge the way a guest would when visiting a stranger's home. Reluctant, but polite. I took in the familiar view beyond the gleaming glass and knew this was the only thing I would miss. The view of a garden I wasn't allowed in. It had always been a comfort through much of the pain. I had spent hours sitting there, watching the day slip into night, lost in a book. Part of me wondered if Jarrett had a window seat at his estate and what kind of view it would have.

I had never been to his family's estate, despite Mother's many attempts. He would have most likely had his way with me years ago if it weren't for Malcolm insisting I never be left alone with him. He hadn't cared that Jarrett had power, influence, and wealth. He was immune to the threats and bribes, unlike our parents. In the end, I supposed it didn't matter.

At five exactly, Mother was in my doorway. She'd swapped her earlier day wear to a navy-blue skirt and white blouse. It was the delicate string of pearls at her throat that made me curious; she only ever wore them when she and Father were going out somewhere they would be noticed.

"The car is here, Naya," she declared stiffly, far more than usual. "Your bags are already loaded."

I rose off my window seat, dressed and ready in the chosen white dress, silver heels, and no jewelry. Mother wanted all of Jarrett's attention on the plunging neckline barely restraining my breasts and the deep slit up my right leg. Porsha, Mother's personal stylist, had piled my hair up into a sleek knot at the back of my head, leaving my neck and shoulders visible where the thick straps of the dress started. The soft material — as little of it as there was — wasn't designed for comfort. It was far too light for the brisk weather, but Mother insisted that the first outfit Jarrett would see me in had to be elegant, but seductive. It had to be worth the six years he had to wait for me.

"Your coat is downstairs," I was informed. "Make sure it is properly fastened when you land and let him undo the buttons."

A chill crawled with serrated pincers down my spine at the image of Jarrett's face, his eyes watching the slow descend of his fingers undoing the snaps of my coat to reveal everything underneath. But I would need to get used to it, I reminded myself. He would be doing much worse than taking my coat off come tomorrow.

Fingers tight, trembling knots of fear at my sides, I followed Mother downstairs. It was by the sheer grace of God that I was capable of each step securely to the bottom when my kneecaps were practically numb.

Asa, Mother's driver, inclined his dark head to me. His warm, brown eyes met mine with their usual kindness. "Miss Blackwell."

"Hello Asa," I managed around a tongue plastered to the roof of my mouth.

"Asa will drive you to where Jarrett's car is waiting to take you to the airport," Mother informed me.

Maybe it was the woozy sensation of reality finally catching up to me, or the brittle terror of knowing my life was officially over, but my mouth forgot to keep closed.

"Wouldn't it be easier to simply have one car take me?"

Perfectly painted lips the color of freshly spilled blood thinned, and I immediately regretted saying a word. "Do you truly think that highly of yourself? The fact that Jarrett was kind enough to even have his plane ready for you, never mind a driver, should be enough for you."

"Of course," I murmured softly, cheeks warm beneath the several layers of makeup Porsha had carefully baked on my face.

Huffing, Mother turned to Asa. "Do you have the address?"

Asa gave a short inclination of his chin. "Yes ma'am."

Mother snatched her velvet shawl off the antique hallway table. It was draped around her shoulders before she faced me once more. "Remember everything I told you. This isn't the time to get sloppy. Not with the wedding in only a week."

Swallowing the thick paste coating the lining of my esophagus, I nodded.

"Good."

Without a goodbye or even a kind word of farewell, Mother headed to the door. The clap of her pumps reverberated as loud and endless as my heart pounding in my chest.

My mouth opened, prepared to call after her, suddenly desperate for a mother I knew didn't exist, but not wanting to be alone. Yet, nothing came out. Then it was too late. She was gone and I was left standing in a home that had been mine for twenty years with not a soul to offer a single word of comfort. I didn't want to cry. The makeup had taken hours to apply, and all my things were packed in the back of the car, ready to get shipped off to some place I didn't even have the full address to, to live with people I had never met.

"Miss Blackwell." Asa offered me the smallest hint of a smile as he held out my coat. I hadn't even noticed he was holding it.

Grateful for the distraction, I moved forward and allowed him to hold it up for me to slide into. My fingers stayed bunched. I knew the slick sensation smeared across my palms wasn't just sweat, but blood, and the coat was a pristine white.

"Thank you," I whispered out of habit.

There was pity in his eyes when he met mine. The little twitch in his lips this time was sad, but he was an employee at the end of the day and had a job he needed to do.

Without a word, he pulled open the door and waited patiently for me to step through.

Only Mother's town car, a sleek, black Lincoln idled in the driveway. There wasn't a single sign of either of my parents, or Malcolm, as Asa opened the back door and helped me ease into the soft, warm leather.

"If you're ready, Miss Blackwell?"

I snapped my belt into place before lifting my gaze to meet Asa's in the rearview mirror. "I am. Thank you, Asa."

He pressed the button and the car started forward. "We'll be arriving in forty-five minutes, Miss." One gloved hand lifted off the wheel and hovered over the button to activate the privacy window. "Let me know if you need anything."

I thanked him again and sat back as he pulled the dark glass between us, leaving me alone in the dark confines of my new prison.

Mother rarely ever pulled the privacy window up. I guessed Asa was giving me a safe space to fall apart or scream if I needed. I was grateful for the small gesture of kindness, but I hated being alone in the silent darkness. The sun was nearly all gone and all I had were the passing streetlamps to filter in.

It's not the same!I willed my frantic brain to believe.

But the confined space. The sharp plunges of night. I was struggling to breathe.

Chest wheezing, I clawed at the felt ceiling. My nails scraped and fumbled until I found the plastic light and the button that illuminated the space.

Not the box.

Of course, it wasn't Mother's linen closet converted to become my punishment box. I was leaving that behind. I never had to sit in there again.

Still, the hot chill created a sticky layer of sweat across my body. I felt the wool collar of my coat graze the back of my clammy neck and I shuddered.

Not the box.

Not the box!

I didn't close my eyes, but I eased into my seat, ignoring the uncomfortable brush of clothes against my skin.

It was at that moment when I finally got my heart rate down the car came to a rolling stop at a red light. I was watching a group of girls jog across the street, wondering if they had any idea how lucky they were when the door on my other side flew open and a dark figure jumped into the backseat.

A hood was shoved back, revealing a mop of pale curls and familiar blue eyes.

"Malcolm?" I took in his black jeans and black hoodie. A drastic change from his usual slacks and button downs. "You scared the heck out of me. What are you doing?"

"We don't have a lot of time." He raised a hand and rapped three times on the privacy window. It rolled down just enough for Asa to shove a backpack into our side. The window rolled back once Malcolm had it. "I need you to really listen to me and not speak, okay?"

The urgency in his voice had a fresh wave of cold soaking into my skin. It filled my core with a pit of snakes.

Hungry.

Slimy.

Writhing.

Malcolm was always such a cool, calm person. To watch him rip open the bag and rifle frantically inside had my stomach whimpering. But I swallowed my questions because he told me to.

The car started forward. The jolt startled me.

"I have everything you need in this bag."

I tried to process all the familiar words he was speaking that I couldn't recognize. My attention dropped to the black cavern he held open for my scrutiny.

Neatly rolled up bundles of fabric mostly in dark shades. He shut and zipped the main pocket to open another one tucked between the shoulder straps, almost entirely hidden from sight. From within, he drew out a clear, plastic baggie large enough to hold an entire book and several items.

"Passport. New ID. Credit cards." He paused to catch his breath, lick his lips. "A whole new life anywhere you want, Naya."

My sheer bewilderment forgot not to speak, and I heard myself ask, "What?"

He stuffed everything back into the pack and stowed it between his feet to face me fully. "Tell me you don't honestly want to marry that piece of shit."

I shifted. Uncomfortable. "Mother—"

"Naya!"

I flinched and dropped my gaze. "No."

"Good, because I'm not letting you. He's a monster, Naya. He treats his wives like slaves. He ignores his kids. The only ones getting any of the Brixton inheritance are the kids from his first wife. The rest barely get by. He's not going to treat you right. He paid a lot of money and I mean a lot to keep you ... untouched, and a lot more once they deliver you to him. You are nothing more than property."

Maybe he expected me to be surprised by the revelation, but I already knew all this. He'd been paying a monthly allowance to my parents to keep me safely tucked away until I was of age and then until his last divorce was finalized.

I'd basically been put on layaway so no one else could have me. A blessing in many cases when so many of Father's friends showed too much interest.

"He's going to hurt you, Nay," Malcolm said as if reading my thoughts. "He's had wives already. You're basically being sent to him to be his fuck toy."

I flinched at the word. "Malcolm."

"It's going to be okay," Malcolm assured softly. "I have everything planned." He nudged the bag again. "It's everything you need to escape."

"Escape?" I mumbled, glancing down at the bag. "You're going to hide me in there?"

Despite the urgency in his eyes, my brother smiled. "I wish it were that easy, little sister." The smile faded. "We're going to make you disappear." The bag was given a shake. "I have a whole new life for you in here. New name. New ID. An apartment in the busiest city in London. A bank account. Everything."

He was talking too fast now. Caught up in his own urgency.

"Malcolm, wait—"

He shook his head. "We don't have time, Naya. We have to be quick. I have a guy who is going to drive you two provinces over and put you on a plane to London. When you get there, you will follow the directions I've written in the book. Everything is in the book. You're entire cover story. Follow it."

My mind reeled. The information piled over me, a mountain of words crushing me.

"How long did this take you?" is the only question I can blurt out.

The corner of his mouth twisted. "A long time. Four years, but I had to be careful. I couldn't take too much money at one time without Father asking questions. I had to pull a lot of strings. Everything from your ID to your apartment were paid for under a shell company that has no ties to us. No one will ever find you if you're careful."

"Why?" I breathed, fear a barbed cage around my panicked heart.

This was madness. It was reckless and dangerous. So much could go wrong.

"Because even if Jarrett was a decent guy and he accepts that you changed your mind, Mother and Father can never pay him all that money, Naya. And it was a lot. They could sell everything they own and not come close, and that's only if Jarrett will even accept the money. The wedding invitations have gone out. People — important people — are expecting the wedding to happen. Jarrett's reputation is on the line and he's not going to let anyone make a mockery of him, especially not a plaything he paid for and anticipated for six years. He will make you walk up that aisle and he will make sure your life is a living hell for humiliating him. He will hunt you down to the ends of the earth, Naya. He will never stop and I'm not going to sit by and let some sick fuck hurt you."

He was right, of course. I'd considered running a thousand times over the years. I'd lain in bed for hours imagining intricate escape plans that involved everything from putting sleeping potions in everyone's porridge to jumping out the window and climbing the perimeter wall. None were feasible or logical, but it was better than marrying the man who snuck into my room at sixteen and tried to taste me before making any offers.

"What if they find out you helped me?"

He shrugged, leaning back. "They can't do anything to me. They can try. I don't know anything." He shook the bag again. "I haven't looked in here. I have no idea what your name is or where you're even going, except London."

A dull roar had started somewhere at the back of my mind, the electric shriek of a dentist drill from a great distance. My terror overlapped with the horrifying knowledge that I was never going to see my brother again. My best friend. He was packing me up in the dead of night and erasing me from the world to protect me.

"Wait. I'm never going to see you again?"

For the first time since leaping into the car, Malcolm broke eye contact. "It's too risky. Family will be the first suspect. The timing is too convenient. They will know you could never have done this alone and I'm your twin. I'm the reason you weren't Jarrett's child bride. They will watch me the hardest. Jarrett most of all." His throat flexed with his swallow. His fingers tightened on the bag. "Until he's distracted by another child, it would be best if you stay hidden."

That could be years.

Years and years.

Decades.

A lifetime.

The ball of serrated tears lodged in my throat blur his handsome features and spill down my cheeks, ruining hours of Porsha's hard work.

"What if he never stops?"

A muscle bunched in his jaw. "Then you will always be safe. I'll make sure of it. That's what's important."

"No!" I lunge forward and sink my nails into his forearm. The material of his sweater bunch beneath my stiff fingers. "I can't. I can't just leave you. I can't just ... I can't live without you, Malcolm."

He took my damp cheeks between his hands and peered intensely into my eyes. "You will, do you understand? Promise me! Naya!" he snapped when I sobbed and shook my head. "Promise me that you will stay away from here. That you will not contact me."

"Don't do this. I'll marry him—"

"No!" He gave me a harder shake. "I won't let you do that. Now, pull it together, kid. Your ride is coming up."

"Come with me. Please. Please ... don't..."

He ignored me. "Take the bag, Naya. Only this bag. Wiley is waiting for you. He's a good guy and paid very well to take good care of you." He raised his head and peered at the passing streets. "Okay, we're almost there. Asa will continue to drive to the meeting point. When they come to get you, the car will be empty. That's how long Wiley has to get you as far away as humanly possible."

"What about Asa?" I blurted. "He's going to get in trouble—"

Malcolm shook his head. "You snuck out at a stop light. He didn't notice. The GPS will show he never made any stops or detoured from the plan. He'll even arrive on time."

"What about you? Won't they suspect?"

"I'm currently in a meeting with six other people who will attest that I was there the whole time."

"How—?"

"None of that is important. Did you hear everything I just told you?"

Mind a cyclone, I could only manage a feeble nod. "Your friend Wiley is waiting for us. He's going to drive me ... why so far?"

"Because the first thing Jarrett is going to do is have all the regular places checked. Airports. Train stations. He might even extend the search to the province over, but by the time he thinks to extend the search even further, you'll be gone. You'll be another face in a sea of other faces."

"I'm scared, Malcolm. I don't know how to do anything."

He pulled me into his arms. "You'll learn and you'll live." He pulled back to peer into my face. "You're going to be free, Naya, just like I always promised you." His gaze flicked up to the window behind me. "Okay. We're coming up. Remember to trust no one. Absolutely no one. Do you understand? Jarrett knows people everywhere. When you get to London, buy a box of hair color and color your hair. Give yourself a cut. Do whatever you have to do to look as little as you do right now as possible." He looked over my shoulder again. "Okay, Wiley is the only black car parked right outside your door. When Asa stops at the lights, you're going to jump out."

"Malcolm..."

"Don't argue! It's coming up. Get ready." He zipped up the bag and held it, face focused as we rolled slowly to a stop. "Now!"

Hands slick with sweat and shaking, I falter for just a moment before catching my fingers into the door latch. It gives much too easily given the sudden gravity pulling me down. Everything was happening with a fuzzy, yet oddly strange clarity I was having a hard time registering.

But I was in the street. The world rushed around me in vivid flare of lights and sounds I barely had time to process when Malcolm shoved the bag out after me.

"I love you," he said, breathing hard. His blue eyes too bright in the darkness if the cabin. "Don't ever forget. Now, go!"

He grabbed the door handle and yanked it shut before I could open my mouth.

Then he was gone and I was standing in the middle of a deserted street, clutching my whole world stuffed in a backpack.