Chapter 5
1023 Words
Lauren’s POV
"Lauren, again. Shoulders back. Don't curl in."
I know I am trying, I mumble, raising my shoulders, though they would fain be sinking stones.
Mason walks around me in the training room in the Surrey estate. His eyes are keen, to the point--as a coach, or a drill sergeant. But his voice remains composed, unvarying, nearly soft.
Look headlong, he says.
I lift my chin.
"Good. Now speak. Loudly. As though you are telling a room full of hard-nosed executives to fall.
I take a breath. "Sit--"
"Louder."
"SIT DOWN!" My voice is cracking, though not breaking.
Mason stops. Gradually, a small smile draws on his mouth. "Better."
I blink. "You're... smiling?"
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
He coughs and looks away. "Focus, Lauren."
I laugh just a bit. But it's real.
I am not as frightened as I used to be in my days.
He steps closer. You are more than you seem.
I have never been told this before. Not like they meant it.
I feel my heart jump, just once.
"Again," he says gently. And this time, better believe yourself.
As I continue, later in the afternoon, along the silent passage, leading to the kitchen. The light of the sun is falling through the windows, and it is warm and calm--however, I still have a knot in my stomach because of training.
And I slow down, and I hear a whisper.
"--yes, she's here. She has just had another session. No, she hasn't left the estate."
My breath catches. It is one of the employees, a housekeeper, Emma. She is facing away, and her phone is stuck to her mouth.
She says she looks tired today; Emma goes on. "Probably stressed. Mason's pushing her hard."
I step back, and I cover my mouth with my hand.
No... no, no.
Do not call me again, she whispers. Everything will collapse in case he finds out.
She hangs up. Turns.
I get behind the corner in time.
It is pounding so hard that it seems to fill the entire hallway. There is a rat in the house--someone of the people we can believe--feeding information to those who are attempting to damage me.
I hurry to the room where I shut the door and lean on it, shaking.
What is it that it wasn't only the car brakes? But what would they think of all I do?
What if Emma isn't the only one?
The estate is no longer as safe as it was before. It feels like a trap.
I don't tell Mason. Not yet. I need to be sure.
The following day, I follow him when he goes out on a business trip to London.
I know it's reckless. I know he'll be furious. But there is a force within me--a new force--a bold one--that is driving me on.
I get into a taxi and pursue the black car with Celia Harrington and Victor Ashford. They drive into a closed restaurant - gold doors, high windows, the sort of place where secrets are exchanged like money.
I wear a hood and walk into the house and stand behind a big plant in the corridor.
Their voices are heard in a secluded chute.
The high voice of Celia snaps first. "She's getting stronger. That was not supposed to be the case."
Victor snorts. "She won't last. She's fragile. Just like her mother."
My hands clench. My mother? They don't even know her.
Celia stands forward--I can see half of her face up where I am lurking. We will never see what we want if Mason continues to protect her.
So, we get rid of him, says Victor. I will have no trouble then with her will.
Finishing her.
My throat dries.
Celia nods. "We need to act soon. I will have assistance on the inside of the estate.
My blood turns to ice.
They know someone inside. Or already have someone.
"You handle Mason," Victor adds. "I'll handle the girl."
My breath comes out shaky.
I need to leave. Now.
A single distortion, and they will notice me. I creep through the hall, at the door, and out into the cold.
Easy, easy, I find myself shaking on the street.
They want Mason gone.
They want me dead.
And somebody at home is aiding them in it.
I take another taxi and drive home to the estate with my whole heart.
I do not know how I will explain any of this.
The front door is open before I even lay a hand on it when I enter the estate.
Mason stands there.
He is furious.
"Where were you?" His voice is low, dangerous.
I swallow. "I--I went to London."
"Alone?" His jaw tightens. Do you know how wanton that is?
I do not belong to you, I whisper, although my voice is shaking.
"No," he says. But it is my duty to keep you alive.
I step forward. "I needed to know something."
"What?"
We are approached by a security guard before I get a chance to answer. "Sir, this was found at the gate. No return address."
Mason rips the envelope open.
Inside is a single photo.
My photo.
Seized this morning--before I departed from the estate.
My face, soft and calm. The time stamp was printed in the corner. I was even watched by someone when I had not even stepped into the taxi.
My heart sinks when Mason withdraws the little note behind it.
His brows are dark and cold in reading.
He hands it to me.
The note says:
You will not survive till the end of the month.
I drop the paper. I cannot even hold it with my hands, which are shaky.
"This is real," I whisper. "They're really coming."
Mason picks up the photo and looks at it so intensely that his jaw is shaking with anger.
And somebody nearby is assisting them, he says, with an icy voice.
I think of Emma. The phone call. The way she whispered.
But I say nothing.
Not yet.
Mason looks down the hall, his eyes as black as I have ever seen them.
- Writer
