“Hello, Wren,” Kingston’s smooth English accent sends a warning shiver down my spine.
Will someone give me a fucking break!?
Men run behind him, opening doors, the metal clanging of keys loud as it echoes through the halls. There’s still the odd pop of gun fire up above but it’s obvious Kingston is the winner here.
“You’re hurt,” he comments, with a cock of his head as his eyes drop to the blood seeping through my fingers, “I don’t think Silver will be best pleased with me bringing you back broken.”
Confusion has my head snapping back, “W-what did you say?”
“Let’s go, Wren,” he curls his fingers, beckoning me forward.
It may be fucking stupid, real dumb but I go, grabbing Rory as my weak legs carry me towards the man that I have no doubt has been the star of many a nightmare.
When I get to him, my legs give out but he doesn’t let me hit the floor, no, his arms snatch out, grabbing me before I can break my nose on the concrete.
“Not pleased at all,” he tuts, mostly to himself as I’m dragged back into a standing position and hoisted up. Fog clouds my mind, coming in heavy at the edges but I can tell I’m moving, or maybe I’m floating.
“Don’t you die on me, love,” Kingston says, “I need you alive and kicking.”
“You’re going to use me too,” my voice is weak, small.
“It’s more of a peace offering,” he tells me.
“W-why?”
“Your man has a lot of power, I’ll be stupid to get on the wrong side of him but I need his help.”
“You’re taking me to Lex?”
“I am, love, now stay alive,” he orders, “I hate it when people die on me, especially since I’ve gone to all this trouble.”
“Rory…” my voice trails off.
“All the girls here will be taken care of,” Kingston says.
I know the moment we step outside.
Cool air washes over my feverish skin and even in my current state it lights something inside of me. My lungs expand as I suck in the fresh air, feeling the wind on my face, teasing through my limp and unwashed hair. Freedom.
I’m free.
A numbness begins to spread through my body as Kingston continues to carry me away from the house but I don’t fight it. I’m not going to die inside that house, inside that prison. I’m not going to be left to rot in a ditch. I’m free. I feel myself being lowered, the pain in my side a dull throb compared to the fog inside my head.
“There goes the car seats,” a feminine voice chimes from somewhere in front of me.
“Shut it, Belle,” Kingston orders, climbing into the back with me, “drive. Now.”
The movement of the car has my stomach rolling and I gag though nothing comes up and then my eyes roll back, my consciousness slipping.
“Oh no you don’t,” Kingston shakes me roughly as he presses something into my side, “What did I say, love? Stay alive.”
But that shit was easier said than done when all I wanted to do was sleep.