I think of my brother now. He’s off kicking ass. He wouldn’t let himself be concerned with something as simple as a little lost human, but he also wouldn’t judge me for saving her. He wouldn’t tell me to ditch her. No, my brother is too good for that. He’d ask me how I was going to save her.
“You can’t keep her here forever,” he’d tell me, and I know that’s true.
I need to figure out what I’m going to do with Fiona and fast.
I can keep her locked up. I can. She’ll be safe and she’ll be secure, but she won’t be living. Something tells me that what Fiona needs most of all right now is a purpose. She’s had everything she’s ever known completely stripped from her life. She doesn’t have money or a family or a home anymore.
She doesn’t have anyone.
Just me.
I’m all she’s got.
Am I really going to sit around and let her wither away in my room? Am I really going to be that person? It’s bad enough that I can feel LeBlaie’s goons closing in on me. Either the police will find me or his paid mercenaries will find me and no matter who reaches me first, it’s not going to end well for any of us.
But can I really just let Fiona sit around until that happens?
There’s something about her I hadn’t counted on. I hadn’t counted on the fact that she’s not terrible. I hadn’t counted on the fact that she doesn’t seem scarred by the world. She’s sweet and innocent. She’s much too innocent for me: much too innocent for Dreagle.
How can I really keep her locked away?
Finally, I realize I can’t. That’s not the kind of man I’m going to be. It’s not the kind of man I am.
I won’t be the kind of man who steals away a woman’s life and locks her in a little box. Fiona isn’t a toy to be taken out when I get bored. She’s not someone I should be locking away and pulling out to play with. She deserves better than that, more than that.
But I can’t let her go free.
The decision weighs on me and finally, after what feels like hours, I come to the realization that she needs something to do and I need someone to help me. Searching the ship will go a lot faster with an extra set
of hands on board. Won’t it?
I wonder why I didn’t think of before. She can help me look for whatever LeBlaie hid on the ship. She can help me find whatever he was carting on this vessel. She can help me get my freedom and I can give her hers.
When I reach the door to my room, I pause and listen.
Nothing. I don’t hear her crying, don’t smell any tears or sadness, but that doesn’t mean anything. Surely she hasn’t gone to sleep. She wouldn’t have. She was too upset when I left her and I doubt much has changed, but then I get it.
I get her scent, and it’s not sadness I smell.
It’s anger.
She’s royally pissed and I’m guessing she’s got some sort of plan. When I walk through the door, she’s going to try to take me out. Maybe she’ll hit me over the head or maybe she’ll try to rush past me. I don’t know, but I do know I need to be careful.
I underestimated Fiona.
Everyone did.
That’s why her hands are damaged and that’s why she’s still alive. People look at her and they see a dainty princess, a socialite. That little tigress is so much more.
I key in the code to open my door, press my palm on the little sensor box, and push the door open. Then I quickly dart to the side before the door finishes opening. Sure enough, Fiona comes charging out of the room with two pens: one in each hand.
She screams as she runs, barreling into the hallway, and crashes into the opposite wall before falling onto the floor.
“Were you going to try to stab my eyes out?” I ask. “That’s not very nice.”
“Neither is locking me up to be your prisoner,” she spits out as she rights herself, then scoots back against the wall.
“You’re right, and that’s why I’ve come up with an idea.”