Renata
I know it’ll only be a matter of time before Kian figures out a way to free himself of the cuffs, so I fly through the house, trying to be as fast and as careful as possible.
I’ve been keeping tabs on the comings and goings of the mansion planning for something like this. I’ve rarely seen Kian’s men inside. They’re usually stationed at the gates, so there’s no way I can get out through any of the main entrances without catching their attention.
But I have a plan. It’s bold, it’s risky, and I have no idea if it’ll work, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
Instead of heading through the back of the house that leads to the ocean, I snake left and head to the cellar where I know my brother is being kept. I know there’s at least one guard stationed outside his cell door. So before heading down, I grab a long wooden ornament from one of the common areas.
I barely know what I’m holding, and I don’t care. It’s heavy enough that I know it’ll do the job.
When I step into the cellar, I scan the area quickly. The guard on duty—Donovan, I think his name is—is sitting on a chair just outside the cell. His head is bent forward, clearly in the throes of sleep. I sneak closer, realizing that his eyes are fluttering.
He’s not deeply asleep. And my footsteps are enough to stir him back to consciousness. Just as his eyes open, I smash the wooden ornament across his face.
He collapses immediately, sliding off the chair and thumping onto the floor. It makes a bigger sound that I anticipated, so I snap my head towards the staircase, expecting an army of Irishmen to come shove a dozen guns in my face.
Three seconds tick by and nothing happens.
Move, Renata! I yell at myself. You don’t have much time.
I grab the key hanging off the unconscious guard’s belt and use it to open the cell. Drago looks up at me, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“What was that noise?” he asks.
“The sound of your guard going down,” I tell him. “Come on, we don’t have much time. We’ve got to go.”
His eyes go wide as he realizes that he’s not going to die in this cell. I rush around and check the restraints they’ve put on him. They’re pretty easy to remove and I manage it without much difficulty.
“Fucking hurry up,” he growls, offering precisely no help whatsoever. “They could catch us at any moment.”
I dig my nails into his wrist.
“Ouch!”
“Shut up,” I hiss. “Do you want to alert the whole fucking house?”
His mouth falls closed, but he doesn’t look happy about it. He groans when I unwind the rope off his broken arm. It looks painful, but my sympathy for his suffering is limited. A taste of his own medicine is probably long overdue.
“Come on.”
“Do you have a way out of here?” he asks.
“I might,” I reply. “Come on and don’t make noise.”
He follows me back up to the first floor of the house. I hold my hand up while I check outside the door. It looks clear, so I gesture him forward. He sticks to me like a second skin as we make our way to the back of the house.
“This can’t be the way out,” he says. There’s panic in his voice, and for some reason, that gives me a strange sense of satisfaction. It feels good to take charge when the people around you are scrambling to keep up.
“Shut it,” I snarl at him. “And do what I tell you to do.”
His features darken, but I’m not scared of him anymore. I wonder if he can sense that in me.
He’s clutching his broken arm tight to his body as we slip outside and past the pool. I keep scanning the shadows, knowing that it’s inevitable that someone will spot us.
Right on cue, I notice one of the maids near the pool house. She does a double take when she catches sight of Drago. Then her eyes land on me.
As soon as they do, she darts inside, ready to raise the alarm.