Page 8 of Risk (Mayhem Makers: MMM #3)

CHAPTER

SEVEN

McKenna

It took some time to get Isla out of her docile frame of mind.

I distinctly remember that mindset. Unlike her, I was tossed to the wolves without anybody to help guide me through the expected routine.

After making her something to drink, I ushered her to the bathroom and handed her a spare pair of my sweats and an overly large tank top that I know will swallow her because it does on me.

It’s a security blanket of sorts for me and I’m hoping it’ll give her the same type of relief.

I recall how much I wanted to scrub Marshall’s touch from my skin the very moment he dumped me in my first place, so I wanted her to have that opportunity to do so as well.

As she was breaking down in the shower, her sobs reached my ears—like scratches to a chalkboard, I needed to refocus and prepare myself for when she finally managed to pull herself out.

That’s how I found myself in front of the window, contemplating life.

When the bikes idled at the stoplight in front of my complex, I froze.

I didn’t need to see who it was on those bikes to know who one of the riders was.

He’s always had a sort of psychic, magnetic pull on me.

I have never needed to put eyes on him to know he was near or in the same room as I was.

He’s always been the ying to my yang.

Risk holds my soul in the pit of his hand. I just wish he’d been more careful with it.

When our eyes connect, I’m held captive.

I’m not sure if from this distance he can see the tears trekking down my cheeks or not, but in case he can’t, I don’t wipe my face clean.

I refuse. Those are mine and I’m not in a mental or emotional place to share them.

Needing to break this hold he has on me, I nod and close the blinds.

My hands grip the fabric of the curtains as I drape them shut.

My body starts trembling and I have to use the breathing exercise technique I learned online to calm my racing heart.

“Shit,” I mumble as tiny, dark specs waft through my vision.

“Breathe, Kenna. Just because he found out where you live doesn't mean he’s going to stop by.” Once I have myself convinced that life will go on as normal, I step back and walk over to the kitchen.

I’m not sure when the last time Isla ate was, but food is a comfort and if that’s all I can provide for her, then I’m gonna do it.

These next few weeks are going to be a shock to her system.

She’s going to have to learn how to cope.

I’m going to have to convince her to keep up her physical strength by getting enough sleep, even through the nightmares, and substance in her belly, even if she’s not hungry, otherwise, she’s going to stumble and fall.

And that’s one rabbit’s hole she’ll never be able to dig herself out of.

As we sit at the kitchen table, Isla looks up at me, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Why did he do this to me?”

“Because he’s an evil man,” I answer. It’s the only thing I can think of to say in response, because how else do you break it down into words so you can describe someone who’s as sinister as he is? It’s an impossible question to answer.

“Where did he get you, Isla?” I ask, changing the course of the conversation.

“A group home. It’s a transition house for teenagers who’ve graduated from the foster care system but are still in school and being supported by the state.”

I’m both shocked and disgusted by her explanation. “They took you from your house before you graduated. They can do that?”

“They had to make room for a new kid,” she excuses. “I was the oldest and closest to graduating so I was the lucky winner.”

Harrumphing, I say, “Doesn’t sound much like a win to me.

” I’m going to have to take her under my wing and keep her as safe as I can.

This is a dog eat world she’s been thrust into.

I’m sad on her behalf because there’s nobody out there to miss her and look for her, wanting to know her whereabouts.

I open up and tell her what I was thinking earlier, “This is going to be a shock to your system.”

“Already is,” she whispers. “How do things like this happen anyway? How do they get away with it? Isn’t there anyone we can report them to? Surely, there’s a program out there for people like us who are in this situation.”

“Those are good questions, ones I can’t answer because I have no idea, Isla. If I’d figured that out, I would’ve already reported this to the right channels so they could shut this operation down. I don’t know who they have in their pockets so I haven’t taken that leap and reached out to anyone.”

She drops her fork to her plate and leans back, cradling herself by wrapping her arms around her waist. “You think they are connected to someone higher up, don’t you?”

“I do,” I confirm. “They need someone to cover their asses. The things they’ve gotten away with are too convenient. Like you for example. How did they know how easy it would’ve been to take you without a paper trail following you?”

She leans forward, her eyes widening. “Are all of the kids they’ve taken from the system?”

“I wasn’t,” I tell her. “I came from a broken home with a single mom who’d all but given up on me.

Marshall wined and dined her until she stopped listening to her gut and gave into the loneliness.

I’m one hundred percent convinced she didn’t marry him because she loved him, but because she needed a companion.

They were never loving to each other; they were more like friends. ”

“You say ‘were’, does that mean they aren’t together anymore?”

“No, they aren’t,” I say with a shake of my head. “The first time he took me, he had what he wanted and stopped going home, abandoning her. He had to be with me at all times so he could break me in. I was a bit of a wildcard back then.”

“The first time?” The horror on her face at that realization has my shoulders slumping. I accidentally said more than I intended to. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone I could talk to in this manner and had a slip of the tongue.

“The first time,” I clarify. “I bided my time, gained their trust and once I had that, I ran.”

“How long were you gone for?” Isla asks, zoning in on me with interest. I can’t let her take the same road as I did, she doesn’t have the same skills as I do, she’s too innocent.

“Four long, glorious years,” I admit. “I’m also the reason why we now have tags. If we were to run, we’d only have a two day head start on them and we’ll be easily recaptured. It’s not worth taking the chance.”

“It is for me, McKenna. I don’t want this to be my life.”

“I don’t either, Isla.”

“But you’ve given up, haven’t you?” she asks.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve given up, Isla. I just have to find another way.”

“Are you even looking for that?” Isla probes, seeing me better than I want her to.

“It’s not safe, not yet. I have someone important to me that counts on me. I need to stay breathing so I can be there for him.”

“Him? Do you have a man, McKenna?”

“That’s a lot of questions for someone just now meeting me. Are you a spy, Isla?”

She lets out a grave, humorless chuckle before shaking her head. “For them, never!”

She can deny it all she wants, but now that the thought has crossed my mind that they may realize I’m not being the good girl they expect me to be, I’m wary.

How do I know they haven’t sent in a spy to report back my unauthorized activities?

Great, now I’m going to be walking on eggshells in my own home and am going to have to be more careful than I already am when I venture out on the weekends.

“The couch pulls out. I’d offer you my spare room but I use that for my videos. I’ll grab you a blanket and pillow. My advice to you would be to not try and leave, the first couple of weeks they watch you like a hawk. You may not see them, Isla, but they’re there.”

I’m going to have to come up with a valid excuse of why I can’t go over to my mom’s on the weekends to visit Phoenix because what I said to her is the truth, there’s someone hiding in the shadows—watching and waiting.

It’s a trap meant to lull you into a false sense of security where you think you’ve got the upper hand and nobody will notice you slipping out after dark.

Ultimately, escaping captivity is a survival instinct that isn’t easily ignored.