Page 130 of Marks of Rebellion
It has to be the balcony she spoke of. There is only one. I study that area with my binoculars all day long, but my Flower is never in sight.
In the morning, a woman opens the curtains. In the evening, she closes them.
She has to be in there.
Carlos and other people come and go. Guards line the gates and surround the house. The more days that pass and I don't see her, the antsier I get to start taking out Carlos and his men.
That could kill her. Be smart.
What is he doing to her? Why doesn't she come out?
I search the internet on Kyle's phone for news reports about her, but nothing pops up.
The camp I set up is several feet into the jungle. I'm in camouflage and no one can see me, but I study the shifts the guards make and know them by heart.
When the time is right for us to make our move, Mack has a group of guys who are ready to be part of the stealth operation and kill everyone in our way.
He visits me every other day, swapping out remote phone chargers, and bringing food and water. I could hunt. Dirk taught me how. But a fire could bring attention to me, and I don't have time. My concentration is all on the fortress and how to remove her.
Where are you, my Flower?
It's sometime in the morning when the doors open for the first time. Two women step out, and I grab the binoculars.
When I see Vanessa, I have to hold myself back from moving closer. She's in a long white nightgown and is crying. The other woman moves toward her, and my Flower is visibly shaking.
A new rage boils in my veins. The woman leaves the balcony, and Vanessa falls to the ground, gripping the rails and sobbing.
The twisting of my heart is excruciating. I edge closer, even though I shouldn't. It's a risk one of her guards might see me.
She gets up and goes inside. An hour passes, and I start to get more worried when she appears again. She has curled her hair and put makeup on. She wears a beautiful, expensive-looking blue dress.
As she stares at the jungle, my heart beats faster and shreds into more pieces. So much sadness and pain are on her face.
Can you see me, Flower?
Suddenly, she sharply turns and goes inside.
I need to let her know I'm here.
The collection of red hibiscuses lay at my side. Every night, I've collected them from the jungle. It's the one thing I've done religiously, waiting for a sign that she is still alive, and for the moment I can show her I'm here.
Like clockwork, the guards change. It's the same as every day, and they spend a good few minutes not paying attention, talking with each other.
I quickly scatter the flowers on the edge of the lawn.
Another agonizing five minutes pass when she comes back out distraught, sobbing again.
What did he do to her?
She sits on the back of the balcony and leans back, and my heart stops.
Don't do it, Flower.
I'm here.
Baby, please don't do it.
Every second is torture. When she finally gets off, spins, and looks at the ground, her head lifts.
