Juliette broke down. She normally wasn’t the sort to shatter under pressure, but between losing Killian and being kidnapped, her emotions refused to hold together anymore. They dissolved in a fit of sobs she hadn’t ever allowed herself. Maraveet said nothing. She didn’t tell her to be quiet or stop being a baby. She gripped Juliette’s hand and waited.
“Done?” she asked, not unkindly once Juliette had run out of tears.
Juliette nodded, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her coat. “I’m sorry.”
Maraveet shook her head. “It’s fine, but that is the only cry you’re going to get, understand? After this moment, you’re going to bottle it all up, all your feelings and never allow them to see you break. You’re going to become the perfect little mute doll, got it?”
Sniffling, Juliette frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Intensity shone in the other woman’s eyes, a green fire that washed through the chill in the room. “They will try to make us talk, to tell them whatever they want to know, but the minute we do, we will no longer be needed, do you understand? Give them nothing. No matter what they do to you or to me. The longer we hold on, the more time Killian has to find us.”
Cold bile tightened around Juliette’s throat. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
Maraveet grinned. “A few times.” Her smile faded. “Just be strong and remember it won’t be forever.”
Juliette opened her mouth to ask how she knew that when a soft click filled the room. It was followed by the sound of decompressing air. The square patch of wall disconnected from the rest just above the stairs and a door swung into view. A man, rail thin and dressed in jeans and a leather coat, ambled down the stairs, making sure to hit every step with a vibrating thump. He reached the bottom and stopped at the sight of Juliette.
“You’re awake! Good.” He ambled closer. “The boss was wondering when you’d be up.”
He reached for a set of keys hooked to his belt loop. He flipped through several before finding the right one. The rest jingled together loudly as he unlocked her door.
Juliette scrambled back, moving closer towards Maraveet. The other woman’s fingers tightened around hers, but the man marched in without missing a beat and grabbed Juliette’s free arm. He yanked her up and away.
The last thing Juliette saw before she was dragged up the stairs was Maraveet’s intense green eyes watching her through the bars, willing her to be strong.
Juliette had always considered herself reasonably strong. She had faced things most people would never dream of and she had survived. But everything in that moment felt lost and hopeless and shrouded with an impossibility she wasn’t equipped to handle. Not knowing what lay beyond the hidden door didn’t help. Not knowing what or who … no, she knew who. She remembered his face, his familiar, safe face. She had trusted him. Killian had trusted him. He’d betrayed them both. He’d brought her to that place and left her in a cage. Now, he was going to torture and possibly kill her.
The door opened to a spacious cabin straight out of the very concept of luxury. Maraveet hadn’t been wrong, they were in a boat, but not a freighter or fishing boat as Juliette has expected. It was a yacht, a grand, beautiful length of space draped in rich satin. Crystal drops glittered from the ceiling, showering the mahogany furniture with their golden light. The dark wood complimented the peacock blue throws adorning leather sofas. An iron stairway twisted up from the center of the room and opened to the second floor above. Outside, through windows draped in gossamer drapes, the heavens were as navy as the carpets beneath their feet and dotted by a swirl of snow that obscured any landmarks that might have helped pinpoint their location.
Despite the early hour, the cabin was occupied by a small handful of men. None of which she recognized as she was led closer.
“Juliette.” The voice could have been cut from silk. “You cannot possibly imagine how long I have been waiting for the moment when we would finally meet.”
Chapter 23
Vile, unstoppable hated scuttled along Killian’s skin, reminding him of a hundred spider legs creeping beneath his clothes. The sensation had his stomach churning, his skin crawling and his temper rearing its head. In the black slate of his window, his reflection glowered at him. Accusation and loathing oozed through the pane. It was a look of disgust and it was warranted. The things he’d said to Juliette would haunt him for the rest of his life. It would forever be the new reason he no longer slept. The excruciating look of heartbreak twisting her beautiful face had been all he could take. Had she stayed for even a second longer, it would have been the end of him. It would have sent him to her, the need to protect her be damned.
In his trouser pocket, the jagged corners of the pendent cut into his palm. The metal and gem felt ridiculously hot in his freezing clutches. Every so often, he’d run the pad of his thumb over the face of the girl and think of Juliette’s when he’d given it to her. The glow of elation in her eyes. The smile.
I had to do it, the pitiful voice insisted. She would have been next.
You don’t know that! The second voice screamed. I could have kept her safe.
It was the same war, the same argument and neither side was any closer to winning. But Killian agreed with the first. He had no guarantee he could protect her. He couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t lose her the way he’d lost Molly, Molly who he barely saw. If they went after her because of him, what was stopping them from going after Juliette? What was stopping them from taking her, hurting her … breaking her?
A new coldness gnawed at the pit of his stomach, the sort of sensation one got when drinking ice water on an empty stomach. It made the snakes there writhe in fury at being disturbed.
Losing her forever was a price he was willing to pay if it meant she would live. He would live with the agony so long as he knew she was somewhere out there, possibly happy.
A soft shuffle alerted him to the second figure hovering in the open doorway of his dark office. The harsh, yellow light from the hallway panted his enormous silhouette a murky black, but Killian would recognize Frank anywhere.
“You let her in,” Killian said quietly. “Those gates don’t open without your approval, nor does anyone, not even me, know the exact moment the staff change happens, except you. You disobeyed my orders.”
Frank never moved. “I did, sir.”
“Don’t ever do it again.”
Frank inclined his head. “Yes sir, but there is something you might want to know about Miss Romero when she left the manor—”
“I don’t.” He turned away from the window. “She is no longer my concern. You will never bring her up again, do you understand?”
“Sir, if I might—”
The man’s insistence only fueled Killian’s impatience. “I said no, Frank!”
The reluctance was unmistakable, even if his face was concealed in shadows. Killian could see it in the tightening of the man’s frame. But he relented grudgingly.
“Yes sir.”
Killian returned to the window, to the darkness and the company of his own miserable reflection.
“The Mishimoto Company is still waiting for your response to their offer to buy out the … sir?”
Killian blinked and raised his head. Frank was watching him from the other side of his desk, a large stack of papers gripped in both meaty hands.
“Yes, all right.” Killian straightened in his seat. “Just set it down and I’ll go over them when I’m done.”
Frank wisely said nothing as the folder was set gingerly on top of a teetering stack of other files and paperwork Killian should have finished days ago. The entire surface of his desk had become one wrong sneeze away from a paper avalanche. The OCD claustrophobic in him shrieked at the sight of his once immaculate work space. But the rest of him had no energy to give a shit.