Brother. The word echoes in my mind as I turn off the camp stove and start collecting cooking utensils. I try to imagine what Kit’s brother might be like. Is he also blond and unnervingly handsome, with those strange cat-like eyes? Does he also swing between charming and terrifying like a pendulum?
Suddenly, an image forms in my mind: a whole family of them, gathered around a table for Sunday dinner. A father with the same golden hair and sharp features, carving a roast while casually discussing who they’re planning to kidnap next. A mother, beautiful and cold, passing the potatoes. Several siblings, all with identical green-gold eyes, comparing notes on their various hostages.
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, unexpected and slightly hysterical. I clamp my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. Once I start, I can’t stop. The laughter pours out of me, tears streaming down my face as I double over, clutching my stomach. It’s not even that funny; it’s just so absurd. All of it. Being kidnapped, becoming the camp cook, pink sweatshirts, Kit having a brother—
“You okay in there?” A voice calls from outside the door.
I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. “Fine,” I call back, my voice still wobbling. “Just… just packing up.”
I wipe my eyes and get back to work, gathering pots and pans, camp stoves and cooking supplies. I’ve just about finished when the door opens again, and two of Kit’s men walk in.
They start carrying out the bins of supplies I’ve packed, not even acknowledging me.
“Can I help?” I ask, surprising myself with the offer. But anything is better than sitting around waiting.
One of the men shrugs. “Sure. Take that box.”
I pick up a box of dry goods and follow them out of the kitchen. We head down the corridor, which I now know leads to the emergency exit. For the first time since my escape attempt, I’m being allowed to go outside.
The sunlight is just as blinding as it was three days ago, and I blink rapidly, trying to adjust. As my vision clears, I see a line of pickup trucks parked in the lot, men moving back and forth loading equipment and supplies.
I set my box in the back of the nearest truck as directed, then stand for a moment, taking in deep breaths of fresh air. The freedom I’d so desperately sought is just yards away; the tree line, the forest beyond. But I know better now. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Not in this bright pink outfit, not in these unfamiliar woods.
Or is there?
My gaze shifts to the trucks. I can’t help but wonder, if I could get out here unnoticed, maybe one of them would have the keys in it. And if I was in a truck, would they even bother chasing me down at that point?
No. That’s insane. There are so many things that could go wrong. So many ways it could end badly. But a small voice in my head argues: what if they’re taking me somewhere even more remote? Somewhere where escape would be truly impossible?
“Let’s go.” A hand claps down on my shoulder, making me jump. It’s Scorpion, his close-set eyes watching me warily. “Boss wants you inside until we’re ready to move.”
I allow myself to be led back into the warehouse, through now familiar corridors, and into the main room. My foldingchair sits where it always has, a small island in a sea of organized chaos. Men are dismantling equipment, rolling up carpets, carrying out furniture. No one is paying any attention to me.
“Stay put,” Scorpion orders, then moves away to help with the evacuation.
I sit, hands folded in my lap, watching the activity around me. My mind is racing. If I‘m ever going to make another attempt, now might be my only chance. Everyone is distracted. The doors are open. Vehicles are running.
It’s stupid. So, so stupid. But the thought of being taken somewhere new, somewhere unknown, terrifies me more than the prospect of being caught again.
I stand, keeping my movements casual. No one looks my way. I drift toward one of the doorways leading to a corridor I’ve been down before. Still, no one calls me back. I step into the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The corridor is empty. I can hear voices and the sounds of movement from rooms on either side, but no one is in sight. I walk faster, trying to remember which way leads to the side of the building where the trucks are parked. Left at the junction, then right… or is it right, then left?
I turn right at the first intersection, then left at the second. The sounds of activity grow more distant behind me. Am I going the wrong way? I pause, trying to orient myself, when I see it: a door at the end of the corridor with daylight peeking around its edges.
Hope surges in my chest. I move forward, picking up my pace. The door grows closer with each step. Ten feet away. Five feet. I reach out, my fingers closing around the handle—
A hand clamps around my wrist, stopping me cold. I don’t need to look to know who it is.
“Didn’t we just have this conversation?” Kit asks, his voice surprisingly calm. “About you wandering off?”
I turn to face him, expecting to see anger, but his expression is almost… resigned.
“I was just—“ I start, then stop. There’s no believable lie I can tell. “I’m scared of where you’re taking me,” I admit finally.
Something flickers in Kit’s eyes. He studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “Come with me.”
He doesn’t release my wrist as he leads me through the corridors, not back toward the main room but toward the emergency exit. We step outside into the sunlight, and I blink against the brightness. The trucks are still there, being loaded by Kit’s men. Some are already full, tarps secured over their cargo.