Page 73 of Cruel Master
We walk mostly in silence, though Juliet pauses to look at things I’d have walked right past. Toadstools growing in a colorful patch. A squirrel. Some little blue flowers. When she bends to pick one, a raspy man’s cough cuts through the quiet.
Juliet freezes, hand reaching for the flower, and looks from left to right. I do the same, an odd feeling creeping over me. There’s no reason someone else shouldn't be walking the same path, but my skin prickles all the same. It sounded close, but no one comes around the bend. No more sound follows.
Juliet frowns and stands without collecting the flower. For the second time today, I vacillate over what to do. Call out? Go back and try to find the source of the cough? Both feel like overreactions, but at the same time, it’s one more weird thing to add to the list, and I don’t like it. Even less now that Juliet is out here and vulnerable.
My tension has passed to her, and she stares around. The shadows press in, and I make a decision, pulling out my phone. “This has been nice, but we need to get moving.”
I check the GPS and reorient myself. It was probably someone walking on a nearby path. Sound echoes weirdly in the forest. Nothing to get jumpy over.
I’m still holding Juliet’s hand, and she doesn’t seem inclined to tug it out of my grip as we walk to the gate. It takes around ten minutes, and the closer we get, the more I wish I’d saved this for another day.
I wanted to solidify the reality of her situation, but maybe I should have let her explore the inner parts of the Compound instead. She’s acting like a weight has been lifted, and I’m about to slam it back on top of her.
As the path bends left, giving her a glimpse of the gate, her hand tightens on mine, and she stops.
I look, too, and try to take in the scene through her eyes. The wall stretches up, sheer and unclimbable, but topped with barbed wire anyway. The gate is closed, and the hinges are barely visible in the smooth metal. That won’t be the worst of it for her, though. The worst will be the armed soldiers.
Growing up in Scotland, where not even the police are armed, Juliet never got used to the presence of firearms. She freaked out when she saw my father’s hunting lodge-themed study, complete with shotguns mounted to the wall. Right now, she’s looking at two soldiers. One holds an automatic weapon, while the other stands ready to search any cars that come through.
I take a look at Juliet’s face. Pale, eyes locked on the guards.
“The wall stretches the entire perimeter, and there are guard stations placed within sight of each other all the way around. As well as the barbed wire, the wall is also electrified. No one gets in, and no one gets out.”
She stays silent for a long moment, staring at the guards. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “So if I ran at that wall right now, they’d shoot me?”
A surprisingly sharp question, given her obvious fear. It would be easy just to say yes, but I’m not going to get into the habit of lying to Juliet. “No. Most Wards try to escape when they first arrive. They’d deliver you back to me for punishment.”
“And they know. They know the women here are prisoners?”
“Of course. They’re paid well not to ask questions.”
It’s the wrong thing to say, and I realize it when Juliet tenses. Money. Since the sale of her company, she’s got plenty of it, and before I can take a breath, she rips her hand from mine and rushes toward the gate, arm waving.
“Please. My name is Juliet Stewart. Get me out of here, and I can pay you five million each. Look me up. Please. I swear it.”
Shit.
My instincts tell me to rush after her, but I force myself to walk at a leisurely pace. The guards both look to me, and the older one says, “Sir?” voice raised to compete with Juliet’s shouting.
“Restrain her for me. Thank you.” I can’t believe my voice is as calm as it is. I knew this was a possibility, but Juliet’s relaxed state on the walk lulled me into complaisance. Stupid. Everyone warned me the first few weeks are unpredictable. Wards can be calm and happy one minute and running for the gate the next. It takes a while for them to accept their new reality.
Bribing the guards is a clever plan, though. I’ll give Juliet that.
“Please. I have money. Ican—”
The unarmed guard steps forward to meet Juliet. She flails at him as he grabs her, and it’s torture to make myself stand and watch as he wrenches her hands behind her back.
She needs to know, or she’ll keep trying to escape.
It doesn’t make watching it any easier. Juliet kicks out, catching the guard in the shin, and he grunts, then takes her legs from under her, knocking her down to her knees more forcefully than he goddamn well needed to. She yelps as her knees bang on the concrete; it’s too much. I’m there before I realize I’ve moved, ready to unleash hell on the asshole as he locks her into cuffs.
I force myself to stop, though. She needs to see the consequences of her actions.
“I’ll take her from here,” I growl at him.
The guard nods and steps back, and I glare down at Juliet, resisting the urge to ask her if she’s okay. She’s panting hard, and her face is tight, but I think it’s more with anger than pain.
In her white dress, she looks like a penitent kneeling to ask for forgiveness, but her eyes blaze as she looks up at me. The relaxed version of her I glimpsed on our walk is dead and buried, and I’ve only got myself to blame. This was a bad idea, and now I have to punish her even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing.
