Page 73 of Wayward

Now . . . here we are.

My guys. My new family.

On the edge of maybe getting back to whatever our new normal could be. That is, if we can convince Z that his dad can’t touch us.

Maybe I’m being naïve.

But I don’t understand why Ed cares so much.

I mean, I suppose it’s great to have Z’s protection—even if it feels like a prison sentence.

But I glance back at Easton.

The whole thing feels muddled and confusing.

And I want answers.

But I also want us to live—and not under the rule of Thayer Zambrano Senior.

We have rights. Or at least . . . we should.

I drift off to sleep.

My dreams are as jumbled as the situation. When I wake, there’s a blanket over me.

Zane’s grin flashes at me. “You hungry, Little Bird? Paul—the flight attendant—brought us dinner a little while ago, but he said he’d give you some when you woke up. It’s not great, but I’ve had worse. Even Dante finished his.”

I drink two bottles of water, finish off the food, and then—fifteen minutes later—the inevitable happens.

I’m not one of those girls who refuses to use the bathroom on planes. But I try not to. And it’s been a long time since we left the resort.

I lean forward and get Holloway’s attention, then point to the bathroom. He gives a curt nod.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and head that way.

Paul, the flight attendant, is sitting in his seat. “Can I get you anything?” he asks.

“I’m good. Just gonna use the bathroom.”

While I’m in there, I wonder about him. Someone like Paul. When I come out, I lower my voice and ask, “So . . . how long have you worked for the Zambranos?”

“Long enough,” he says. The way he lifts his chin tells me he has stories—and he’s not about to spill them.

I give him a wry smile and head back to my seat. I lean over to Zane. “How much longer?” I whisper.

“An hour, tops,” Zane says, giving my hand a quick squeeze before letting go—before Holloway or one of the guards can notice.

When we do land, it feels like the plane is actually driving us somewhere else. It’s a good forty-five minutes before we come to a stop.

The door opens, and Holloway heads down the stairs while the other guard scowls at us and points at our seats.

After another long wait, we’re taken off the plane—one at a time—and loaded into a sleek town car.

It’s dark outside the hangar we’ve been parked in.

This time, we’re all in one car. I’m sandwiched between Calvin and Sam again.

Across from me are Dante, Easton, and Zane, with the guys flanking him on either side.