Page 62 of Take My Crown

“Like what?” Isabella asks.

“Like a bitch,” I say.

Isabella laughs. “I serve your father, not you. He wanted me to befriend you, so I did what I was told. See, your dad found me in London using my body to pay for my life and I wanted to die. I hated myself and he showed me I could be so much more. You were so wrapped up in yourself, you never thought to ask anything about me or see how loyal I was to your father. That’s what a real heir would do…you are just a silly girl who one day might be turned into someone important. Or you’ll have a kid who will be.”

“Yeah, like a good little lapdog,” I sneer, even though what she said is so true. I didn’t ask Isabella anything about herself and there is a good chance my dad does want me for the kid I might give him one day. He never wanted me to rule.

“Give me an excuse to tase you. I dare you,” says Isabella, pulling me towards her to undo my handcuffs.

Like I was going to do anything to play into her hands.

She undoes my cuffs and I rub my wrists, more instinctively than because they are hurting.

“Now if you’re a good girl, I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning,” Isabella says. “If not… I know just how long someone can survive without food. Your father wants you alive, but right now I don’t think he really cares what condition you’re in.”

“You’resick!” I snap.

Isabella lifts her taser. “Now, now. I must advise you to behave yourself. I have the authority to make the next few days very uncomfortable.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s the Archaic spirit!” she sarcastically replies.

Isabella retreats and I hear the familiar sound of the door locking behind her.

I run up and kick the door, knowing full well it isn’t going to do anything, but it makes me feel a teeny bit better.

“You think you’ve won,” I mutter. “There’s no way you’re getting away with this.”

I stare at myself in the mirror, seeing the utter mess I am. On my one cheek, three lines of blood streak my pale skin and my tears look like puddles under my eyes.

My eyes…they look broken. I look broken.

But I can’t be.

Romy, Archer, and Declan need me. My dad might think I’m just a tool for him to boss around, but I am my mother’s daughter. Apparently she was good at running away with precious things of his, like me. I can run away with the guys, too.

He has underestimated me…he might not see me coming because of that. I grin to myself in the mirror, not seeing a broken girl anymore. I see an heir, a warrior, a woman who won’t give up.

I see my mother.

I stuff my bed in that old classic way that is meant to fool people into thinking I am asleep and switch off the lights. It is unlikely to fool anyone, but maybe it might buy me a few extra minutes.

Ducking down on my hands and knees, I crawl over to the window, keeping to the shadows. What no one knows is that I have secretly been working away at the bars that are meant to trap me inside until they are loose enough for me to pull them out. I have left them in place until the time came for me to escape. I knew I would only get one shot, so I have been waiting for the perfect moment to escape.

That moment is now.

Cautiously, I pull back the curtains, trying not to let any extra light into the room as I sneak behind it. I softly take the bells off, leaving them on the floor. Carefully, ever so carefully, I open the window, thanking my lucky stars it is always kept well-greased, so it doesn’t squeak as I push it up.

I reach out and grab a bar, gently twisting it until it finally comes free. Slowly, I place it on the floor and take hold of the bar next to it. A few moments later, I pull that one out of the wall too. I do the same over and over until the window is completely clear. I pull myself up onto the windowsill, leaving my legs on the inside as I lean out towards the drainpipe.

Stretching out as far as I can, my fingertips only just brush the metal. Looking down at the ground, it looks further away than I remembered. It is a good thing the doctor is in the house–I might need his help once he is done with Archer.

Taking a deep breath for courage, I pull myself out a little further, trying to press myself into the wall as if I were Spiderman to give myself the illusion of security. This time I manage to get hold of the drainpipe with one hand. Clinging on for dear life, I twist my body so my other hand can also catch the drainpipe.

I stay where I am for a moment, heart pounding. Then, I pull myself out, bracing myself against the wall as I walk my feet along until I am wrapped around the drainpipe.

“All right, Ivy. You’ve got this,” I whisper to myself, as I slowly shimmy down to the bottom of the pipe.

---