Page 42

Hailey

I awake to the sound of the door to my cell opening, I most have fallen asleep so quickly—I think they sounded the alarm moments ago but my sense of time is warped.

It worries me that they’re choosing to wake me up in person instead of sounding the alarm again.

They must have a worse punishment in store.

"Hey, sweetheart." Sean slams the cell door shut, standing in front of me with a lingering smile. "You cold?"

My arms are wrapped tightly around myself, and I’ve been shivering for hours, maybe days. "Yes." The word is barely a whisper.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Well, Hailey," he continues, and I hate the sound of my name in his mouth. "I can take you to the showers, get you under some nice, warm water. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?"

I would kill for a warm shower right now, but the way Sean gazes at me, I know it isn’t just a shower. "I don’t know. Is that allowed? I don’t want to get in more trouble."

He furrows his brow, looking down at his clothes. "I’m the one in charge, right?"

I nod, biting my lip, trying to think of an excuse. I suppress the urge to scream at him to back off because I don’t want to be on his bad side. I'm hoping to get out of this with finesse, but I’m so cold, so tired. My eyelids droop from the exertion.

He claps his hands, and I jolt. I almost fell asleep again.

He grabs me by the arm, pulling me up from the bed.

I feel lightheaded and fall into him, my head resting on his chest. He can’t see my face, so I openly wince as he runs his hands through my hair.

It’s too familiar a gesture. "It’s going to be okay, Hailey. "

I’m shaking as he walks me out of the cell. I can’t get a read on Sean’s intentions. My gut tells me he’ll take advantage of me, but maybe he has actual feelings for me. If so, maybe I can use him to escape.

He guides me past other cells, where I hear prisoners crying or screaming. It’s haunting to think about how many are kept here and for how long.

We move through another hallway, mostly empty, with plain white walls and rows of black doors. I can’t tell if they’re offices or empty rooms. My heart quickens—could this be my chance to escape?

Sean’s entire hand wraps around my bicep. I’d have to jerk away to surprise him. But I’m shoe-less, hurt, and exhausted. I’m sure my situation would worsen if I got caught trying to escape. His grip tightens, almost like he senses my thoughts.

"You’re hurting my arm," I whimper.

He doesn’t loosen his grip. "Sorry, sweetheart. We’re almost there." We round a corner, and he swings open a wooden door.

The light flickers on, revealing a wall with three showerheads and nothing else. No privacy curtains. Just drains to wash off filth. The bleach smell is overpowering, and I try not to imagine why they’d need to use so much of it in here.

Sean locks the door. I had no power before, but that made me feel even more helpless. My throat tightens. I try to stay strong, defiant, but I’m at the edge and the tears won’t stop.

"Please don’t." I back away until pressed against the wall.

"I’m not going to hurt you," he purrs, standing so close he's pressing against me. "Relax, I’ll take good care of you."

I squeeze my eyes shut as his hand slips under my tank top.

"Such a cute little outfit," he taunts, unbuttoning my shorts. "Normally, we’d put new prisoners in orange suits. But we treated you special. Made watching your cell more fun."

I wore a sheer spaghetti strap tank and short jean shorts because of the heat that day. If I’d known...

His touch feels wrong. Every cell screams to escape. I squirm, which only pins me harder against the wall. He hushes me as I beg him to stop. He’s not hurting me, but it’s worse this way. I want him to get it over with, instead of dragging it out like some sick enjoyment.

I hear his belt jingle .

I knee him in the groin—an impulsive move I’m unsure will help.

"Fuck," he hisses. "And I was being nice to you."

His grip bruises as he presses me harder into the wall.

A loud knock interrupts. He clamps a hand over my mouth, glaring at the door.

"Sullivan?" A frantic voice calls from the other side. It sounds so much like Max’s, I wonder if I’ve lost my mind.

"One of the prisoners bit off a huge chunk of his wrist. There’s blood everywhere.

I tied him up so he can’t hurt himself more, but I don’t know shit about first aid. If one of them dies on our watch..."

I scream against Sean's hand. That voice—it's Max's.

"Put pressure on it. I’ll be out in a few," Sean shouts.

I whimper as his hand covers my mouth, my nose. I can’t breathe.

"I tied his wrist with the bed sheet, but it won’t stop. He needs stitches. His skin was pale when I left."

Sean curses, walking to the door as Max or my hallucination of him continues to plead.

The door whips open, and before I can confirm, a sickening crack sends Sean flying back, clutching his nose.

It's Max. He’s here, in a guard’s uniform, gun in hand—the same weapon responsible for Sean’s crushed nose.

I fall to the ground, shaking and sobbing.

Max’s face shows devastation—it must be shocking to see me. I barely ate during our breakup, and considering the past days, I must’ve lost weight. There are bruises I barely feel anymore amid everything else.

Max steps inside, still staring at me, distracted from Sean. I see Sean pull his nightstick from his hip.

"Max!" I try to warn him, but it's too late.

The nightstick slams into Max’s shin, and he cries out, dropping his weapon. He kicks it across the room, away from Sean, and punches him in the stomach.

They continue fighting. I sprint toward the corner where the gun was kicked, feeling defenseless. I can’t fire with them fighting so close—I might hit Max.

Max gets struck in the face, his eye tearing from the blow. But he knocks Sean to the ground, pinning his arms.

Sean squirms beneath Max, not giving up. Max is larger, but Sean’s training would have pushed him to his limits many times. He spits in Max’s face, but Max pins an arm with his leg and tears off Sean’s belt—it was unbuckled to assault me minutes ago.

He wraps the belt around Sean’s neck.

I hug my legs, convulsing with stress and cold. I no longer fear Max losing. Watching him strangle Sean feels like a car wreck—I can’t look away. The gurgles, Sean's changing color, his flailing...

The body goes limp.

I exhale, thinking it’s over. Max checks his pulse.

Then he turns rabid, slamming Sean's head against the ground until it's deformed and still .

I sit, motionless. I watched Max kill someone in front of me before, but nothing compares to this.

"Hailey..."

He crawls to me, shaking from the fight.

"I'm so sorry," he says, taking me into his arms as I sob. Relieved the ordeal is over but traumatized from everything that’s happened to me in the past few days.

I can't find words as I cry into his chest. The relief of feeling safe and warm in his arms is indescribable.

"Are you hurt?" he asks. "Did he... did they?"

"No. They hit me a couple of times, but they didn't let me sleep or eat. Anytime I moved in my cell, they'd sound this alarm. My ears are still ringing."

He holds me closer. "We're going to get out of here. I'm never letting you out of my sight again. I don’t care what my family says. I don’t care if the cult sends more people to find you. I'll destroy anyone and anything that gets between us."

My vision blurs as a red puddle spreads from the body’s head.

He tilts my chin, keeping my eyes on him instead of Sean.

"I love you. I regret how I handled everything with that marriage arrangement.

I should have run away with you weeks ago.

" He wants to say more but can't manage the words.

I wipe a tear from his cheek. I've always had walls up, afraid those who helped or liked me had hidden agendas, but Max genuinely cares. I feel his love radiate from him.

I'm not sure who kisses first, but soon my legs wrap around him, and his tongue is in my mouth.

I run my hands through his hair, feeling safe and loved.

Everything about him is comforting: his scent, his strength, the way he looks at me.

I want to suspend this moment and not think about the fact that we still need to get out of here.

He must realize the same, as he cups my face, dark eyes worried. "We're almost out of here, baby. But I haven't planned this next step. I need your help before people realize who I am."

I nod. "Did you see any orange jumpsuits around? Like a prison outfit?"

He shakes his head. "No, but there are storage closets I haven’t checked."

"Look there. If I can wear one, we can move through the base unnoticed."

He kisses my head and pulls away, glancing at the body. "I'll be back soon. Rest your eyes so you don't have to stare at that."

I nod absently, staring at the body, worrying he'll move before forcing my eyes shut.

A hand on my shoulder makes me jerk awake and scream, momentarily forgetting my surroundings.

Max crouches down, holding the prison outfit I described. "How'd you find it so fast?"

"You were sleeping. Let's get you changed. It looks warmer, at least."

I scan his face—Sean did a number on him, but there's a fresh cut on his lip.

"What happened? "

He helps me up then pulls off my shirt. "A guard came in. He made me nervous, so I took him out."

I furrow my brow, wondering how long I was asleep. He helps me into the new outfit.

"Ready?" he asks, his hand gently on my arm.

I nod, warmth in my chest with Max by my side as we prepare to leave.

A woman sobs through her cell door as we pass where they’re keeping the other prisoners.

"Can we help them?" I ask.

He stops, considers it, then shakes his head. "Too risky."

I know he's right, but a pang of survivor's guilt hits as we leave.

"I wouldn’t have lasted long."

He squeezes my side. "You're the strongest person I know. You'd have made it."

Outside, he holds me in a way that doesn't look affectionate as we pass guards and members leaving a late shift.

I've never been out here at this hour before.

It's quieter than the usual hum of brainwashed members chatting about how excited they are about their new promotion or guards barking at those in the correctional program.

Walking through the base is strangely anti-climactic. I expected to be caught, but we blend in enough. The only odd thing is the wounds on Max's face and blood on his shirt .

I glance left, recognizing an old coworker. She's my age and one of the few with a sense of humor. Recognition turns to rabid anger on her face.

"Traitor!" she screams.

Max tenses with anger but maintains our cover. I keep my head down.

"You know her?" he asks once we're out of earshot.

"Office friend."

He growls, glancing back.

"Don't look back," I say. "What she screamed was expected."

"Let's just get out of here."

We walk in tense silence toward the main entrance.

"How do we get through the gate?" I ask as we approach the parking lot.

"I have keys to one of the SUVs."

"Yeah, but we’ll need to get someone to open the gate for us."

"Fuck."

He unlocks a car, opens the passenger door, and helps me in.

"Am I going to have to shoot my way out of here?" He holds up his gun.

I lean forward, gripping my wrist, forcing myself awake.

"Tell them you’re taking me to my father’s.

If they complain, get angry and call them stupid for forgetting.

" I touch the gold bars on his shoulder.

"This uniform means you're high up in rank.

Act like it, and we can avoid more violence tonight. "

"Oh," he nods. "That explains why no one bothered me. Everything was almost too easy until I found you. "

He closes my door, joining me in the driver’s seat.

"Don’t hold back. Gaslight the hell out of the men at the gate," I murmur before we reach the exit. I squint, recognizing the guard. "His name’s Lopez," I say before Max opens the window.

Lopez leans down, glaring at me, then Max. "There aren't any trips scheduled tonight."

"What!?" Max snaps, making me jump. Perfect.

Lopez narrows his eyes at me. We've interacted enough; he knows me as the leader’s kid and we worked together to help build one of the dormitories when we were short on members with a background in construction.

"Burke ordered me to take her."

"Tonight?"

"Do you think I’d be in the fucking car right now if I wasn’t suppose to take her tonight?"

Lopez grinds his teeth. "I’m going to call him."

"Call him?" Max scoffs. "Don’t you dare break rank and call him Lopez! You think he wants to have the same boring, fucking conversation with your ignorant ass that I just had with him at this hour?”

"I didn’t mean any disrespect. This is highly unusual, sir."

Max shrugs. "Of course it’s unusual. We’re dealing with the Burke family directly."

Eyes on my feet, I shiver in the draft from the open window, blown away by Max's performance.

"Fine," Lopez says. "When should I expect you back? "

"Noon," Max shrugs.

Lopez moves away from the car.

Max rolls up the window, exhaling.

When the gate opens and we drive through them then down the road, I cry with relief. I thought I'd die in there.

“I want to hug you, but I’m paranoid he can still see us,” Max says.

“I know, I know.”

He grips the wheel, eyes on the rearview. “My car's parked a mile down the road. We'll swap it and get you somewhere safe.”

“Okay,” I say.

Far enough away, Max touches my shoulder, though we're both still worried. All it takes is for Lopez to realize he made a mistake and sound the alarms.

Finally, I see a car parked by the roadside. “Is that it?”

“Yes.”

He swerves off and parks. I let myself out, unsteady from adrenaline and stress. Max nods toward the car's trunk. "Get in. I have to check something."

I sit in the passengers seat, watching the mirror as he pops the trunk. I hear a grunt and struggle, then see him drag a pale figure in underwear to the field. I turn away, shutting my eyes as he raises his gun.

A yelp escapes me at the shot. Max rushes to join me in the car .

"Was that the guy you took the uniform from?" I don’t know who else that would be unless he had some unrelated mafia business on top of everything else.

"Yes," he starts the car. "I don't know how he was still fucking alive. I'm sorry you heard that."

I shrug, my mind shifting from the shock to how cold and tired I am. My hands shake as I fiddle with the heat settings, cranking it to eighty.

“What the fuck?” I mumble when it doesn’t heat up.

“Shit, you must be so cold. Let me turn the A/C off.”

He adjusts everything until I feel warm air blasting in my face.

I desperately needed his help with that, controlling it feels like I’m trying to launch a rocket right now.

I slump into my seat, finally feeling safe in this car.

Now that we’re out of that SUV, they’ll have a harder time tracking us.

His hand wraps around mine, pulling it up to his lips.

When he lets my hand fall to my lap, I feel my body fall into a sound sleep.