Page 74 of Filthy Feck

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CONOR

PRAY - SAM SMITH

The so-calledemergency landing had us disembarking at Helsinki Airport.

An hour later, we were guided onto a private jet where we set off on the next leg of a journey that I was completely in the dark about. Our final destination was still a mystery even after we landed.

We were still in Eastern Europe—the weather alone told me that. Never mind the guttural language Black uttered as she spoke to the driver of a limo that was idling on the concourse, its engine surrounded by dancing eddies of steam as the heat tangled with the frigid air.

I wasn’t sure if I was about to be hit over the head and dragged into the trunk, but no, the door was held open for me and my carry-ons were handled with care and deposited where I’d imagined I’d be sitting for the next part of our journey.

It was only when we were on the road that I worked out our eventual destination—Dubrovnik.

“She’s in Croatia?” I sputtered.

Black sighed. “Not much gets past you, does it?”

“I’m getting pretty fucking sick and tired of your sarcasm.”

“Ditto.” She sniffed. “Luckily for you, I’ll be leaving shortly. My job was to deliver you where you need to go. My task is almost complete.”

“Probably for the best. When Star realizes you double-crossed her,” I taunted, “you’ll need to be on the other side of the world.”

For the first time, I knew I’d said something that scared her.

Her throat bobbed.

That was it.

A bare whisper of a micro-gesture.

But it was enough.

Satisfaction filled me, enough that I sank back into the leather seats and just settled in for the ride once I’d updated my brothers who were clucking over my messages like mother hens.

Me: Change of plans. Flight rerouted and am going to be staying in Croatia. Will be in touch when I know more. DO NOT blow up my messages because I won’t answer.

A half-hour later, the sun barely peeking over the mountains as we climbed up a hill, I realized we were approaching a massive building that sat on the edge of the coast.

While it was modern in design, it was built like a fortress. There was no taking away from that.

Upon our approach, like a light switch being turned off, it was dark, and in the distance, a lighthouse flashed. Close enough that I knew there had to be islands dotted nearby.

Large gates opened for us as we passed by them, and we were taken down a long driveway that had us circling the property to reach the front where an entrance could be seen.

Two water displays decorated the facade on either side of the doors, and because of the temperatures, steam drifted on the air around them, making me wonder if this was how the Pevensies had felt as they tumbled through a closet into Narnia.

“This is where I leave you,” was Black’s stony retort.

“I won’t say ‘miss you,’” I mocked, relieved to be away from her, to be honest.

Even though her explanations had further cemented my opinion that she was a headcase, sometimes, those who weren’t in their right mind had a way of speaking the truth as no one else could.

By this point, I had no idea what I was expecting.

A talking lion would make sense in the grand scheme of things. I hadn’t been restrained, my personal effects hadn’t been taken away from me, and my cell phone was still in my jacket pocket.


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