I bypassed my childhood room and entered the guest room to find my soiled clothes gone and the bed moved back to its rightful space.
Arnauld heard me scoff and drawled, “Your every step here is being watched, Hallie.”
I sat on the edge of bed, crossed one leg over the other and put an elbow on my knee. Arnauld held my gaze without blinking when I asked, “Where’s my mom?”
“She’s in the east wing. This is the west.”
“Why is she in the east?” From memory, I was forbidden to venture into that wing during my months of childhood captivity.
“It’s the staff wing,” Arnauld explained.
My spine straightened. “She’s not staff, though.”
His jaw tensed on and off. “She’s under twenty-four-hour surveillance, and the servants’ quarters is the best place to keep track of her.”
“Fuck,” I hissed and ran my fingers through my tangled, air-dried hair. That complicated things. “How well do you know her?”
“Well enough,” came his guff reply as he backed toward the door. “I’ve got to go. Stay put.”
“Sure, because I’ve got so many places to be right now,” I called as he pulled the door shut.
Keys jingled and the lock clunked into place, leaving me in my fortress of solitude to consolidate a plan.
Chapter Nineteen
Hallie
By the time nightfall rolled around, I was ready and poised for action. I had the bedding knotted together and securely anchored to the heavy bed frame, waiting to be used. I’d let the bedroom grow dark with the waning light and kept the lights off to save my movement from being easily tracked from outside. After one final check through the second-story window to ensure the front yard was vacant and silent, I held a pillow against the glass and struck it with the abandoned showerhead.
The window gave a satisfying crack but didn’t shatter. I tapped at it until I’d created a hole large enough to hook my finger through and break the glass inward without shards falling onto the yard below.
Moving quickly, I ensured the bottom ledge of the frame was free from jagged points, then tossed down the makeshift escape rope made of joined linen.
Armed with only a long shard of glass tucked against my lower back and ignoring the tiny nicks to my skin as I maneuvered my way through the tight, broken window space, I gripped the sheets and hastily rappelled down the outside of my father’s white brick manor, wearing the fuck-awful pants and collared shirt that at least allowed me a decent range of movement.
I remained undetected as my bare feet soundlessly met the pebbled garden in the front yard. Pressing my back to the pearly white bricks, I paused a minute to regain my breath as well as hone my hearing, then kept to the shadows as I made for the east wing.
I rushed around the far end of the house and hid among the shrubbery in the manicured back yard. I had no idea which window was Mom’s. All I could do was wait for some indication.
As the hour passed, knowledge of my breakout seemed to go unnoticed. All seemed quiet and still—suspiciously so. I took a step out of the shadows and ran along the tree line toward the rear patio. Skirting around the outdoor furniture, I tucked against the brick exterior and stole brief glances through the large glass doors.
Despite having just broken outof the house, I held my breath and depressed the door handle. The door swung open, silently inviting me back into the dragon’s lair.
It inaudibly sealed me inside, and immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“You really are foolish, aren’t you, whore.” Mandla’s dark figure appeared from the shadows, head-bandage and white smile flashing in startling contrast.
My stomach dropped and my chest grew tight. I puffed a breath, forcing myself to think on the fly at the sudden turn of events.
Instead of taking flight, I launched into an unprovoked attack. Taking him off guard was my best chance of bringing him down.
He anticipated me grabbing for the collar of his shirt but made the fatal error of assuming I was stupid enough to not carry a weapon. While dodging his angered lunge, I gripped the long shard of glass at the back of my waistband and sliced it through the air in one seamless arc. It met his skin, and a satisfying yelp filled the foyer.
As he recoiled, I added another slice to the fingers of his opposite hand when he made a grab for me, then dug my fingers through his tightly coiled hair. I tugged hard to snap his head back, while in the same motion, ran the glass blade across this throat. It wasn’t enough to slice completely through, but I managed to pierce the artery. Glossy sheets of blood ran down his neck as he moved, reflecting the smallest traces of light in the otherwise shadowed room.
Mandla came for me, teeth bared, whites of his eyes wide and startling, and seemingly unaware of the gushing blood.
I fought the natural instinct to escape his grasp, instead letting my soul-deep training override all other senses. I clung to his front and tried to maneuver my body into a position where the hold was supreme over his size and strength.