Page 108 of Gilded Locks
“No!” She twisted and spit, dropping to dead weight again. Slithering out of his grip and shoving him back. The cuffs fell and he fumbled to catch them. When they clattered to the floor, she snatched them up then—CLICK.
Cole looked at her with wide eyes, jerking his arm from the desk bolted to the wall. “What did you do?”
“I…” She rushed forward and snatched the keys off his belt, tossing them into the closet. “I’m sorry. But I have to go.” Against every rational instinct, she left the observation room.
“Marigold!”
She rushed out of the room and raced down the hall, her footsteps muffled by thick carpet as she raced toward the conference room. From the corridor, she could hear the sound of heavy fists slamming into battered flesh. Jordan’s pleading was lost against the grunts of pain.
She pushed open the door and rushed inside. “Stop!”
The room fell silent.
All eyes turned to her, but it was Jordan’s reaction that made her blood sing with dark satisfaction. His face went white with shock. “Mari—gold,” he coughed. “You have to help me!”
She folded her arms deliberately over her chest, showing him that she had no intention to intervene on his behalf.
“Please,” he begged.
She let the sight of him sink into her mind, giving it a permanent home. Maybe she was disturbed, because in that moment, whatever loyalty she felt for this man was gone. His blood was not her blood. They were no longer family. He was nothing.
She slowly rounded the table, her eyes never leaving him as the other men watched her carefully, deferring to her lead. “I begged too,” she confessed softly. “When they dragged me away, my bare feet sliding helplessly on that cold linoleum floor, I pleaded for them to listen.” She paused to let that sink in. “And when they strapped me to that table, and forced that rubber guard in my mouth, I screamed for you or father to come save me. Do you know what the they told me?”
Jordan’s panicked gaze settled on her, but even now, beaten and bloody, he’d never tell the truth. He would always put himself before others, choose that self-serving hate over love or trust, because he was the one that was broken. Not her.
She stood before him, as he panted on his knees, Hunter holding his head up by the hair so he could look at her. “They told me you and Father ordered it. That you requested every level of treatment, no matter how controversial or cruel.”
Understanding dawned. He was not only powerless here. He was at her mercy now.
“You fucking bitch,” he seethed. “You set this up.”
“Language,” Hunter warned, smashing his face into the table.
Jordan sputtered blood and gasped for breath. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“No, you won’t.” She waited for him to look at her. “You’ll never hurt me again. Or anyone else for that matter. I’m not going back, Jordan. But you’re going away for a very long time.”
He dragged his sleeve under his nose, ruining his jacket, and sneered. “You think the world will just open for you if you spread your legs?” He laughed and spit blood on the floor. “You’re not that pretty. And you’ve never been special.”
Stone and Ash cocked back but she held up a hand, ordering them not to strike. “Doesn’t that make this that much sadder for you? Imagine, being brought down by an ugly, unremarkable female.”
“You’re a whore!”
She smiled in the face of his fury. “Maybe I want to be.”
“I’m not the only one looking for you. They know you killed that guard.”
She swallowed at the memory of Willum. “Self-defense.”
“Your word against theirs.”
“In a month, Whitmore won’t exist. Your sister wasn’t the only one being abused,” Ash informed. “It, and all its complacent benefactors are going down.”
“You’re done,” Stone said.
“Fuck! You!” Jordan went ballistic, thrashing, spitting venom and blood. Until he was on the floor, the echo of Hunter’s fist resounding like a gunshot through the room.
That time, Jordan didn’t get up.
