Page 4

Willow

R ough hands shook me, waking me from a deep sleep.

“Up, Willow. Get up now,”Ms. Milligan hissed.

Dazed, my eyelids fluttered open to find an angry Ms. Milliganhovering over me, her lips twisted into her usual snarl. Panic instantly consumed me.

Had I slept through my alarm?

If I had, it was certain punishment for sure. At the thought, the scarson my back inflicted from the last time I’d overslept seemed to start burning. They’d only just healed.

I bolted out of bed, blinking the sleep out of my eyes, andstanding to full attention, ready for my orders. It was only when I was fully awake that I realized my tiny room was bathed in darkness, aside from the dim glow of the lamp on the bedside table.

I glanced at the clock sitting next to the lamp.

12:01 am.

My eighteenth birthday.

Not that anyone would be celebrating it, and I’d eat my ownnightdress if anyone so much as wished me a happy birthday.

“What’s going on?”I asked in my confused state, internally cringingwhen Ms. Milligan’s scowl deepened.

I knew better than to ask questions.

“You’re graduating,”she snapped before shoving a pile of clothes inmy hands.I was suddenly wide awake, unsure if I was more surprised that she’d answered or at her telling me I was graduating. “Don’t just stand there, Willow. Go and get dressed. You’ve got two minutes or you’ll be going to your new home dressed as you are.”

She raked her disapproving gaze over my nightdress which wasalmost as old as me and covered in stains.

Dumbly, I stayed standing where I was, staring down at the pile of clothes, confusion coursing through me.“I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t, you stupid girl,”Ms. Milligan barked.“Besides, it’sbetter if you don’t understand.”

Her words added to the trepidation building inside me. Graduatingwouldn’t lead to anything good.

Ms. Milligan began opening the only set of drawers I was permitted tohave in my room, pulling out the contents, and dumping them into a bag. When my journals were unceremoniously tossed in, I headed to my little ensuite to get changed, knowing I wouldn’t get any more answers from her.

My hands shook as I discarded my nightdress, my headracing with a myriad of thoughts, each one worse than the last.

I’d been on edge in recent weeks with my eighteenth birthdaylooming. Despite Director Welch’s previous promise that I’d never graduate, I couldn’t help but worry that his promise was empty. Especially as over the last two weeks, he’d avoided being anywhere near me, something which was unusual. I couldn’t remember a time when he’d gone longer than a few days without requesting to see me.

Pulling on the customary black pants and long-sleeved, high-neck,black top I was always required to wear around the house, I headed back into my room where Ms. Milligan was checking her watch, a deep frown creasing her brow.

“About time. Let’s go.”Shoving my bag into my hands, she spun andstormed out.

Knowing it would be pointless not to follow, I trudged behind her, aball of anxiety knotting tighter in my stomach with every step I took.

The halls of Peartree House were silent, the one hundred girls whoresided there knew better than to roam the corridors at night. A strange feeling of sadness descended through me as we made our way toward the main entrance.

Was I really leaving the house?

I hated it there, but in the past eight years, it had become my home. Ididn’t have any friends, I wasn’t even allowed to talk to the girls unless it was to pass on orders, but I found comfort knowing they were always there. Comfort I doubted I would find in the place I was going.By the time we reached the main staircase, a tremor had taken over my entire body, and I wanted to vomit from how frightened I was. Upon seeing four burly men waiting by the front door, my feet decided to stop walking.

Each man was huge, and each wore a black suit. From the bulgesstrategically placed around their bodies, it wasn’t hard to tell they were armed. A sense of foreboding seeped into the marrow of my bones, and as Istared at the men, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was being handed over to Death himself.

“Move, Willow,”Ms. Milligan hissed, noting I’d stopped.

For the first time in a long time, I met her gaze.“I’m scared,”Iwhispered, hoping that the woman, whose assistant I’d been since the day I arrived here, would show me kindness and help me out of the situation.

I should have known better.

She gripped my arm painfully, her nails digging into my flesh.“And soyou should be. You’ve been claimed by James Carter, and he is someone you don’t want to anger. If you think my punishments were bad over the years, they will be nothing compared to what Mr. Carter will do to you if you don’t behave. If you want to survive him, Willow, you will do whatever he asks of you, do you understand what I’m telling you?”

My bottom lip wobbled. I understood perfectly well what she wastelling me, and the realization of what lay ahead made bile churn in my stomach.

Being practically invisible in the house gave me an opportunity to gaininformation others weren’t privy to. Staff at the house believed I wasn’t listening when they held conversations, but I was always listening.

A shudder passed through me at recalling what I had heard twoweeks ago about Mr. James Carter. The staff had spoken freely about how brutal he was, and how he was known in inner circles as The Executioner.

When he’d visited Peartree House two weeks ago, he’d rejectedevery girl he’d seen, and left disappointed. Or so we were told. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been a problem if a man left disappointed, it happened at times, but James Carter was one of the key members who funded the program.

Rumor had it that he was furious his money was being spent on aprogram where the assets weren’t meeting expectations.

So why then, had he claimed me? If none of the other girls had methis expectations, I certainly wouldn’t. It didn’t make sense.

Not giving me a chance to reply, Ms. Milligan dragged me down thestairs, my feet slipping several times as I tried to keep up with her while the unimaginable terror weighed me down.

How had I gone from being promised I’d never leave Peartree Houseto being handed to a man known to murder people?

When we reached the bottom, Ms. Milligan let go of my arm.“Willow,you will go with these men. Do what they say, when they say, and do not speak to them.”

With a final sneer at me, she turned and headed back up the stairs.

That was it. Eight years of being by her side.

Her goodbye to me.

It was more than what Director Welch had said, he was nowhere tobe seen.

“Mr. Carter is waiting,”one of the men said, grabbing the bag from meand pulling open the front door.

“After you,”another man said, indicating for me to exit.

My legs felt like they had been buried in slabs of concrete as I mademy way out of the house and down the three steps to where a big, black SUV awaited. One of the men opened the back door and waved a hand indicating for me to get in.

Reluctantly, I did, the knot in my stomach tightening so much that Icould barely breathe. If there was a slim hope of me trying to throwmyself out of the car once it started moving, that hope died when two of the men got in on either side of me, blocking me in.

The other two men took the front seats, and the engine rumbled tolife. Within seconds, we were speeding away from the only place I’d known for the past eight years.

The next few hours passed by in a blur, the only thing I could focuson was the overwhelming fear that had taken up residence deep inside me. After we’d driven away from Peartree House, the men took me to anairport to board a private jet. I was escorted into a bedroom where a sandwich and a bottle of water awaited.

Before the man locked me in the bedroom, he ordered me to eat, andinformed me that the flight would take several hours, but he didn’t say where we were flying to, and with Ms. Milligan’s warning ringing in my head, I didn’t dare ask.

I ate the sandwich, or as much as I could given that every mouthfulfelt like I was swallowing razorblades, before lying down on the bed to consider my new predicament. Emotional exhaustion soon won over though, and before I knew it, I was awoken by a knock on the door.

The same man who’d escorted me to the bedroom opened the door,and shoved a pile of clothes in my hand, along with a pair of ballet pumps, telling me to get changed, and that we were landing shortly.

When the plane landed, and the man came to collect me, I’d changedinto a form-fitting white dress which stopped just below my knees and had lacy white sleeves.

The dress was beautiful, and as I’d been pulling it on, I tried toremember the last time I wore a dress. It certainly wasn’t at Peartree House, I was only allowed to wear clothes that covered as much of my skin as possible. I must have worn dresses as a little girl, but if I did, I didn’t remember.

Years of pain and brainwashing had made me forget my life before Iarrived at Peartree House. I couldn’t even remember the names of my parents, and if I ever tried to recall my past, the scars marring my back would start burning until I was writhing in agony, so I never let myself think about who I was before my tenth birthday.

From the plane, I was put into another car, once again flanked bythe men. The tinted windows of the SUV were too dark for me to see out, and aside from flashes of trees and mountains from the front windshield, I was completely clueless as to where we had landed.

By the time the car came to a stop outside an enormous house, theafternoon sun was beginning to set. The place was a stark contrast to Peartree House. Where Peartree House had been built in the 1800‘s, and had weathered over the years, the house I was staring at was sleek and modern, with sharp edges and windows. Although, it looked as if it was just as big as Peartree House.

The car door was opened by a man waiting on the steps wearing asharp black suit, his grey hair slicked back. The men who’d escorted me got out, one indicating for me to follow.

“This way,”he said, leading me to an open front door where asevere-looking woman waited.

Something about her reminded me of Ms. Milligan. Not necessarily inlooks, this woman was evidently a lot younger than Ms. Milligan, but in the way she held herself, and the scowl etched on her face.

She didn’t say a word as I passed by, and once I was inside, sheclosed the door, an ominous thud echoing through the cavernous house.Terror prevented me from taking in the interior. The only thing I could concentrate on was putting one foot in front of the other as I followed the man to meet my fate. Even breathing was a challenge.

He led me up a marble staircase, and with every step I took,the sense of impending doom washed through me. When we reached a door, he knocked on it, which was promptly met with a gruff, ‘Come in.’

Pushing the door, the man stepped aside to let me in. Doing mybest to steady my nerves, I crossed the threshold. My feet faltered as the door behind me closed, trapping me in what was obviously a bedroom, along with two men who were both watching me.

I recognized one of the men immediately. The man who’d stared atme when I delivered him a glass of scotch two weeks ago.

James Carter.

My stomach plummeted to the soles of my shoes.

“Come here, Willow,”he said, his voice deep and full of an unspokenthreat.

The last time I saw him, he was sitting. Now, he stood, tall anddominating. Broad shoulders were enclosed in a tight-fitted, light gray suit jacket, and it was obvious from the way his shirt clung to him that he was nothing but solid muscle underneath. Matching suit pants framed his muscular thighs, and it was easy to see why he had the nickname, The Executioner.

Like many of the men who came to Peartree House, he was devilishlyhandsome, with a strong jawline and smatterings of stubble, plump lips, and dark brown chocolate eyes that matched the short hair on his head.

When I reached him, my heart was racing faster than a speedingtrain, and my throat had dried up from the intensity of his scrutinizing gaze.

“Are you ready, Mr. Carter?”the other man said.

James tore his gaze away from me, nodding his head once. Whenthe man handed papers to James, he took them before pulling out a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket.

Bewildered, I watched as he signed his name.“Sign here, Willow,”hesaid, handing me the pen and pointing to a line under my name which had been typed out.

His tone left no room for argument. With a shaky hand, I took the penfrom him and as my fingers hovered over the paperwork, I quickly scanned my eyes over the document, but with chaotic thoughts spinning in my head, the words blurred into one.

“Now,”James barked, glaring at me.

Not wanting to risk his wrath, I wrote my name where he’d indicated,wondering what on earth I was signing. The second I lifted the pen from the paper, the man snatched it away.“Do you want to exchange rings?”

Rings?

“No, I’ll sort that later,”James said, ignoring the confusion I was surewas etched on my face.

“In that case, we’re done. Congratulations. You’re now married.”