CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MIRI

Naja.

That's all I'm thinking about as we drive. And, for a moment, I'm grateful just to sit in safety. With Dragon driving, he can't hurt me. Not physically, anyway.

Shaw's like a statue next to me, his eyes facing forward, not glancing to keep an eye on me. I thought I saw something before as he was pushing us closer to the building. Fear, maybe. Something that I'm annoyingly familiar with, especially around these men. He was worried about his brother. I'd swear to it.

Now, I'm reliving the past, every second of the trauma and pain rushing back to my mind after staring up at the building in flames. The smell of smoke and the sight of fire flashed me right back there – like it happened yesterday, and the nightmares were waiting to wrap me in frightful sleep.

I could feel Naja's hand pulling me along as we stumbled through the burning carcass of the building to our freedom. Only we weren't. Naja ran back inside. She needed to help Jackson.

She didn't. Not really.

It was her conscience talking, or maybe it was her heart.

For a moment, as we drive in the quiet, I play out what might have happened if we had just gotten up off the ground, together, and walked into the streets of London.

Naja and I would still be together. Jackson might be alive. We might have found our way back home – our real home – after going to the police or the embassy.

A smile of sorts edges over my lips, fragile and delicate, as I imagine a world where things return to normal. Until I catch a glimpse of Dragon's eyes in the rearview mirror. Any glimmer or whisp of hope shatters under that stare, and I lower my eyes, focussing on my hands in front of me, worrying them over and over in my lap.

Looking out the window, I stare blankly as the city slides past.

"Where are we going?" I ask. But neither of them answer.

It helps. It fuels my anger at them, drowning out the fear. Remembering how brave Naja was, I know I have to be more like her. It was easier with Shaw, but Dragon makes me feel like a child under his glare. Gritting my teeth, I try to squash that sentiment – it won't do me any good.

He's just a man. He can't hurt me anymore than he already has.

The car slows and pulls into an underground parking garage. We park, and the brothers get out. I look down at the state of my torn and dirty clothes and wonder how anyone could look at me and not be concerned. What would I do if a girl in the same state walked past me in the street? But I know. I'd keep on walking.

It's not Shaw who pulls me from the car.

"Remember the deal. It's simple. Trouble for me means real fucking trouble for your sister." He stands next to the car door and waits for me to comply.

I do.

He walks us through a stairwell and then into a hotel lobby. Shaw does his usual and pulls all the attention off us. We're a few feet behind him, but I hear the charm in his voice when he talks to people. It's the same charm he used on me.

My blood fizzes with rage – at him, but also at myself. How fucking stupid.

I don't fight. I don't scream or run. I play along and behave.

When we arrive at the room, Dragon shoves me inside before closing the door behind him. I look around at the bland space. Big double bed. Desk. Chair. Even a seating area with plush cushions.

But I hear them outside, their voices raised and aggressive. It's not clear what they're saying, but it doesn't sound like a happy conversation. I linger at the door, edging closer to listen in, but then the voices stop, and the door flies open. I rush away and sit on the edge of the bed.

Shaw storms in first, running out of space in the room to pace and turning around by the window to glare at his brother. Dragon closes the door, trapping me inside with both of them. As soon as the door clicks shut, my pulse quickens, like the danger of this situation just registered and my body is catching up. A storm of tension descends as they stare at each other, linked in some silent fight. Words aren't needed. I want to cower and make myself as small as possible, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever this is.

Dragon moves first, not taking his eyes off Shaw.

He towers over me as he comes to a stop in front of the bed. My foot burns, sending shivers of pain up my leg, remembering what he did to my skin. He tilts his head at me, sizing me up, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how scared I am.

My jaw clenches, and I imagine Neil standing over me. I'm about to attack, showing him my best countermoves.

I don't.

Then he lunges forward. "Rar!"

I jump and scramble up the bed, pulling my knees up against my chest as my heart explodes in panic.

He just chuckles to himself.

"Don't fuck up." He points at Shaw before turning to leave.

I look to Shaw who just stands, watching the door. Then, he picks up the chair and lobs it towards the door Dragon just walked through. It doesn't do much damage, clattering against the wall before falling to the floor.

Shaw's left heavy breathing and staring daggers at the mess. This isn't the same man he's shown to me. He's manipulative, evil, and cruel. But this, this is something else. What happened between them to cause so much rage? I keep my thoughts to myself and stay huddled on the bed.

"Stop staring at me. Go and get yourself cleaned up."

"I don't—"

"Just fucking do it!" he yells at me, jolting me into action. I practically run to the bathroom and slam the door behind me, my hand trembling as I fight to twist the lock.

Just breathe.

One step at a time.

I run the mantra over in my head and go through the motions. Turn the water on. Peel off the rags of my clothes. Step under the water.

The heat is a blessing and immediately calms my frayed nerves. I feel like a mess, and as I run my hands over my arms, my mind plays back the vile things Shaw did to me in that cell. The bite of his hands, the grip on my body. They morph and flicker like a slideshow with the pleasure he gave me after our date. The attention he lavished, the simple manipulation that devastated all of my defences.

My eyes sting as the tears escape silently in the shower. I tilt my face to the water, helping to wash them away so they're hidden from everyone except me.

Crying won't help.

Crying won't get me through the next god knows how long.

Just breathe.

One step at a time.

The panic begins to rise, like it does so often, and part of me wants to succumb to it – to get lost in a full-blown attack, but that's a weakness I can't afford. So I wrestle it as if it were a physical opponent until it relinquishes its grip on me.

I use the bottles of soap and shampoo on the wall of the shower and scrub my skin raw as if that will do some good, but it's action. I need to do something, so I take the win.

Clean and warm, I dry off and stay in the bathroom, away from Shaw, as long as possible. The heap of fabric on the floor is dirty and stained, and it smells of smoke. None of that helps to keep my mind focused on the now. It makes me want to throw up at the thought of putting it all back on. So, I pull the scratchy robe off the hook and wrap it around me.

Leaving the bathroom, I take measured steps and sit back on the bed. The robe stays wrapped tightly around me, hiding as much of my skin as possible. The chair's righted and back in the position in the room. "I need new clothes. And I've not eaten properly in days." I know he's heard me. His eyes haven't left me. I can feel him watching, but I keep mine looking dead ahead.

The stillness of the room and the quiet of Shaw begin to unnerve me. "Did you hear me? Clothes. Food. Or are you planning on dragging me to wherever Naja is naked and starving?"

I finally cave and look at him. He's motionless, standing like a guard in the corner of the room. There's no smile, no emotion of any kind on his face, almost like he's resigned to something.

Maybe I should take his advice and just accept what's coming. But Naja didn't. She wouldn't. And Landon wouldn't. He'd fight. God, he'd bring down the world if anyone touched him; I know that.

I straighten my spine and repeat my point. "I'm fucking hungry, Shaw," I yell. It's one thing to be brave with Shaw in the room, and I take advantage of that before Dragon comes back.

Without a word, he moves to the phone on the desk and picks up the receiver.

"Room service. Two burgers, fries and two cokes. The Knightly Suite." He hangs up but doesn't address me.

It's like he's switched off. Well, great. At least there's food.

The minutes drag on painfully slowly, and with only my thoughts for company, I get pretty frustrated really fucking fast.

The image of Naja on that screen is about the only thing holding me together. She's why I'm doing this.

One step at a time.

The knock on the door makes my heart thump in my chest, but it's only the room service. Shaw fetches the tray and places it on the table next to the puffy chairs. No words or instruction. He lifts the cloche and takes his plate to the desk but remains standing as he eats his burger. I watch him, and with small, measured moves, I go and fetch my plate, bringing it back to the bed. The waft of salty chips and juicy meat hit my senses, and a pang of hunger clenches in my gut.

I dig in, shoving the burger into my mouth and tearing through the layers. It's delicious, and I enjoy every bite. The fries are next, shovelling them in as soon as there's room in my mouth to chew. The plate's clean before I'm full, but at least I won't starve now. Food is energy, and energy means I have a fighting chance. Not to escape but to survive.

My expectations have rearranged in my mind. Now that I'm outnumbered and overpowered in every way possible, fighting isn't an option. Stay alive. Get to Naja.

Those are the two things at the forefront of my mind.

The door clicks open, and I push the plate away from me as Dragon comes back into the room. He surveys the tray and plates, and for a moment, I expect him to rage at Shaw or me. But he doesn't. He dumps a bag on the bed. "Get dressed."

Another flashback. This time, the trainer yelling out commands as we walked the room she kept us in and made us dress in scraps of material to please their customers, or even the Cortez brothers themselves.

I pick at the corner of the bag and let it fall open. Jeans and a T-shirt. A few other items that all look reasonable, and I actually feel relief douse me.

"Get on with it. We have a plane to catch."

I take the bag back to the bathroom and do as I'm told.

A plane isn't good. A plane means America, surely? That's where they're from. Is that where Naja is? How will Landon know I'm there? The questions and thoughts spiral as I pull on the fresh clothes. And the confidence to ask questions evaporates now Dragon's back in the room. So, I stand and wait for my next command when I leave the bathroom. I can't help Naja or myself if I'm broken.

Without any spoken words, Dragon leaves the room and turns to me as if I should be in step behind him. I look to Shaw, waiting for him, but he just looks through me, as if I'm a ghost, and grabs his suitcase.

I follow, though, and Shaw follows me.

The car is waiting outside the hotel rather than in the garage, and for a moment, I look out and wonder if I'll ever be back. Just for a moment, before climbing inside.

If I had run, would I ever be able to live with myself? Would I ever be safe? They came for me after all this time. What could I do to keep myself safe? Naja couldn't, Jackson couldn't. And I know I don't want to put Willow in danger. Could Landon keep us all safe?

The airport is busy, and we wait, tediously, for the flight to board. Dragon presented the fake passport and boarding passes with no problems. It was my last hope that someone else might intervene. But they wouldn't leave anything to chance. Not after all of this, would they?

Shaw remains stoic as we move to business class on the flight. Dragon takes a seat next to me, with Shaw on the other side. I look over at him, but he keeps his head facing forward.

Dragon looks comfortable and relaxed in comparison. And that's enough to keep me wary.

At thirty thousand feet, there's nowhere to run, so I resign myself to enjoying the little comforts that business class offers. They can't hurt me here, so I have the length of the flight to build my resolve.

Stage one: get to Naja. Then, we can get to stage two.