Page 27 of Dark Knight

Her big brother. The one who has vowed to protect her with everything I am until Saint finally lays claim to her.

“What’s going on, sis? What do you know?” I try to remain calm as I sit her down on a couch and crouch down in front of her. My patience to have Bea in my arms again is wearing thin.

“I knew Bea’s sisters in high school. They were a couple of years older, and I didn’t even know Bea existed until you brought her home, and I still haven’t met her.” Her voice is barely an octave above a whisper—a sign of her own insecurities and nervousness.

“What about them?”

“They’re cruel, Nolan. Like really cruel.” She pauses, and I don’t believe it’s for dramatic effect. “They went to camp with me.” Sucking in a harsh breath, tears form in her eyes. Nobody fucking knows what happened at that goddamned camp a few years ago, and for a family of men who will do anything for the women we love, it’s been a point of contention for all of us. Especially my father, Damien, and me.

“Please, Lake, please tell me.”

Dad comes to sit next to her now, an arm wrapped across her shoulders.

“They used to talk about smothering their bean plant. We all thought it was an inside joke, but now, I think it was about Bea. They’re as bad as their mother, and Nolan, she is a viper. She’s ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what she wants, so if she wants Bea out of the picture, that will happen.” Swallowing roughly, her cool, blue gaze darts around the room before settling on me again.

“They used to say they couldn’t wait to take their bean plant to the Hamish Plantation. I thought that was a psychological institution, so it never made sense, but then I overheard the parentals talking about Bean Plant Daley, and it clicked. That has to be it, right?” The tears she's held back spring free, sliding down her face, and my heart breaks for my sister all over again.

“Lake, you beautiful genius, I fucking love you.” Gripping either side of her head, I bring her in close to kiss her on the forehead. “You’re the best, sis. The fucking best, and as soon as I bring Bea home, you’ll meet her. She’s going to love you just as much.”

“Just bring her home, Nol. The things they do…they’re cruel.”

Nodding, I have one destination in mind.

Hamish Plantation.

They’re going to suffer my unleashed wrath before I’m finished with them.

Chapter12

Bea

Lights are out. The facility lays silent, and a storm wages war outside. I was able to shove the fork I hid days ago in the frame of the bed between the wall and post right where the straps connect. To focus their attention fully on me while I was being tied down again, I began screaming and kicking my legs, making it impossible for them to fasten more than a quick strap around my wrists. Lucky for me, they didn’t do them up tight enough.

I discovered today that I’d been here for nearly a week. Strapped to a bed, relying solely on people who wanted to hurt me for any type of care. I haven’t showered since that first day, and to say I feel disgusting is an understatement. But that’s not the worst of it.

I’m barely eating at this point because I always feel so sick to my stomach. I'm weak and sense I’m running out of time because I overheard the doctor telling Laura that they scheduled my sanitization for the day after tomorrow.

Sanitization.

As if I’m dirty. As if the idea of me having babies is so disgusting. I want them. I didn’t think I did, but then I met Nolan, and I want as many as he’ll give me.

If he still wants me.

I doubt he does. All this trouble for a girl he barely knows. I got him arrested for goodness sake. He probably hates me.

Which is why I have to rely on myself.

Hence, the stupid fork and the theatrics today.

Pulling on the wrist that’s looser, it takes a few minutes and some lip-biting, but I’m finally able to free my hand. It hurts like hell from the pressure of yanking, but I manage to unbuckle the opposite hand before working on my feet.

One of the first things I noticed after I began to hatch my plan was that there were no cameras in the rooms. I suspect it’s so they can hide the abuse I’ve heard goes on here, but I’m glad for it. Grabbing the fork from its hiding place, I look out the window. I don’t know if I’m in the front, back, or side of the building, but I’m only three stories up. Which means the fall is going to hurt, possibly break something, but I won’t die. I hope. I don’t even know if the window will open. Thankfully, there aren’t any bars covering my escape, or I’d be royally screwed.

Using the fork to chisel along the seal of the window from where they painted it shut, I keep my escape as quiet as possible, but I’m beginning to sweat the more time that goes by. I’m afraid I might have to break the window, then I feel it budge.

Jamming my lips together so I don’t squeal my excitement, I give one final shove, and it opens. Leaning out, I become soaked from the rain, but I think I’m on the side of the building because I don’t see anything out here but darkness.

Going back to the rolling table in the room with a pair of folded pants and socks sitting on top, I slip them on. They won’t do much good to protect me, but it’s better than running around with the flimsy nightgown. Next, I grab the sheets off the bed and tie them together. If I can just make them long enough to shorten the drop a little, that’s all I need.

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