Page 18 of Vow to Protect
The door closes. A key turns in the lock. The click so distinct, signifying a reprieve from leering eyes and imprisonment. I scramble to my knees, shaking, practically naked and thankful to be alone.
Goosebumps shower my skin, wishing for compassionate warmth. A bra and panties don’t cover enough skin to ward off wintery shivers. My soles throb. I release the thin straps and slip my feet out of the shoes, rubbing pinched toes for comfort. It only gives me a moment of relief.
He’s coming for me again.
I crawl over the drafty floor and huddle up in the corner. A sliver of artificial light creeps in from under the door. Darkness will forever discipline the light. Hot tears plummet down my cheeks.
I want to go home, to my apartment where all my art supplies were once stored. Where the blue sky warms my skin, and the grandeur of independence covers white canvases with bold, bright colours.
My eyelids drift shut, and my forehead tips to my knees. My sister’s memory comes back to me, her face a constant in the darkness.
“Natalie? What are you doing in Barcelona?” I search my sister’s gaunt face and bloodshot eyes. She used to be stunning, with an hourglass body and flirty character. Right now, she looks like death has knocked on her door and handed her a timer.
“Can I crash with you for a while?” Her voice is weak, bland—listless.
“What happened? I thought you had a decent job in Dublin?” I lead her into my apartment and guide her to the window seat with the best view of the ocean.
“I needed to escape.” She shakes her head.
“Drugs,” I groan. “I thought you gave that shit up?”
“No, not this time.” Her forefinger aimlessly traces a circle on the window.
“Then what is it?” I demand. “You’re acting weird.”
“He’ll be hunting for me after I ran from the shipment.”
“Who? What shipment?”
“I've done terrible things. I can’t bring myself to admit what I’ve done—I’m on borrowed time, little sister.” She palms her eyes, hiding a pale face.
“I don’t understand, Natalie. What have you done? Who’s hunting you?”
“I’ll be safe here for a while.” Her fingers slide down damp cheeks, and she offers a faint smile. “I’ve nowhere else to go. He doesn’t know about you or my daughter.”
“Daughter?” I grip my paintbrush tighter. Natalie’s lashes blink slowly. “You have a kid? Since when?” We really don’t know each other anymore. That’s not a failing on my part. I reached out to her more than a million times over the yearsand never got a response. “Are you running from the father?”
“No, I’m running from Blaine Casey.” She clutches her belly and almost heaves as his name leaves her lips. “He owns me.”
“I’m confused.” I inch closer, noting her snow-white skin and a navy scarf wrapping her neck, even though the sun is warm outside. “Where’s your daughter now?” I drop down to face her, shocked that she has a child. She wasn't exactly the responsible type growing up. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a baby?”
“I couldn’t tell anyone, Raen.” Her lip draws in, and she inhales. “He’ll steal her if he finds out. I can’t go back there. I can’t lead those poor women into another trap.” Natalie whimpers.
I plead with her to tell me why the man will take her daughter and beg her to tell me who the father is. Natalie’s gaze drifts through the glass window, dazed and distraught. “She’s safe in Dublin with Brett.”
“Brett who? Why didn’t you bring your daughter with you?” I question.
“You’re not listening, Raen.” She sniffs. “He can never know about her. I’m only here because I was in a lorry, transporting…” She gulps. “That bastard will find me eventually, so I can’t stay in one place for long. If he knew about her, he’d sell her like he does all the other women and children.”
The prison door creaks, metal to metal. I blink into the bright new light. Law pauses at the entrance, surrounded by a halo of white. Confident strides cover the gap. Thick ebony hair is scraped back into a knot at his nape, highlighted when he looks back over his shoulder. Glacial blue eyes scream of all things dangerous and cruel. I don’t see the clothes behind his back until soft garments drop to my bare feet.
“Put them on,” he orders, then turns his back to me.
I don’t argue, nor do I question why he suddenly has manors. This man is handing me back to his rival. Surely he knows the level of cruelty Blaine is capable of, yet something tells me he would match him vice for vice. Perhaps I’m better off outside of this compound. Perhaps Lucifer has flipped a coin and offered me the lesser of two evils.
Without hesitation, I grab the man-sized sweatshirt and pull it down over my head. It swallows my upper body in warm jersey, like kind arms of comfort. My legs wobble uncontrollably when baggy pants hide skimpy cotton panties. I don’t speak once I’m dressed. He knows by my silence that I’m dressed, cocking his head to the side and angling his torso to check. When he faces me, Law holds out a thin vial.
“What is it?” I do my best to stand tall, masking nerves.
