Chapter Seventy-Four
Brooklyn
The whole room explodes before I even understand what Jackson just said. One second, Grant’s fingers are wrapped around my jaw, and the next, the hallway outside the office fills with noise so loud it rattles the floor. I hear shouting and boots slamming and something metal crashes hard against something else, and I freeze for half a heartbeat before Grant yanks me backward so fast my feet slide on the concrete.
“Little Bird,” he snarls near my ear, and my whole body jerks, because that voice lives in a part of my brain I don’t ever go near unless I have no choice. “You’re coming with me.”
“No,” I choke out, but he already has his hand on the back of my neck, pushing me toward the door at the far end of the hall, and I stumble because his grip hurts and because fear makes my legs shake.
I hear Jackson shout my name. It’s not Monroe’s voice now, it’s Jackson’s real voice, and it hits me hard enough to punch air back into my lungs. Grant drags me through the doorway and out into another hallway, and the concrete is cold under my shoes, and the lights flicker, and my heart feels like it’s trying to rip itself out of my chest.
“Let her go,” Jackson’s voice fires down the hall, sharp and furious and getting closer, and relief hits me so fast it feels like pain.
Grant digs his fingers into my arm harder. “He can try,” he spits, and he pulls me faster, shoving me ahead of him so he can keep one hand on my arm and the other near his belt, where I know he keeps a knife.
The warehouse outside the hallway fills with more shouting. I hear one man yelling orders and another calling positions. I hear men screaming something I can’t make out because adrenaline is roaring in my ears, and everything is moving too fast.
Grant shoves me through another doorway, and I slam shoulder-first into the frame before I can catch myself. I gasp and stumble forward onto a grated platform above the warehouse floor. Below us are more cages, more metal, more girls crying out because they can hear what’s happening even if they can’t see it.
“Keep moving,” Grant snaps as he pushes me again, and I have no choice but to run.
My breath comes sharp and painful, and the air feels thick and hot, and the metal beneath my feet vibrates under the weight of men running below us. I glance over my shoulder just long enough to see Jackson burst into the hallway behind us, his eyes locked on me with a look that’s pure terror and pure rage rolled together.
“Brooklyn,” he shouts, and I feel my whole body pull toward him like instinct, but Grant yanks me hard, and I almost fall.
“Stop pulling,” I cry as panic starts clawing its way up my throat because Grant is stronger than I remember, stronger than the last time I saw him, and my legs feel too weak to fight him.
I hear Jackson’s boots hit the metal grate, and the whole platform shakes under his weight. “Grant,” he growls, and his voice is lower than I’ve ever heard it. “Let her go.”
Grant laughs, short and sharp, and he jerks me backward against his chest. His breath hits the side of my neck, hot and disgusting. “She’s mine. She always was.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I manage through the panic clogging my throat. “I’m not yours, I’m not.”
Grant squeezes my face again, so tight my jaw aches. “Little Bird, you can’t lie to me,” he murmurs. “Not after everything I taught you.”
My stomach rolls. “You didn’t teach me anything except how to survive you,” I spit out, even though my voice shakes, because I want him to know I’m not that little girl anymore.
He shoves me forward suddenly, and I stumble down a narrow set of metal stairs that lead to another hallway. The space smells like oil and sweat and old blood, and I recognize it even though I’ve never been here before, because men like Grant don’t change, they just build the same cages in different buildings.
Jackson leaps down the stairs behind us, taking them two at a time. “Brooklyn, I’m right here,” he calls, and I feel strength hit my legs again, even though I’m still shaking. “I’m coming.”
Grant snaps around with a snarl and pulls out his knife. “Back off.”
Jackson freezes, but only for a second. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”
Grant drags me sideways toward a door at the end of the hallway. “Watch me.”
My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my teeth. “Jackson,” I gasp as Grant jerks me again. “He’s taking me outside.”
“I see you,” Jackson says, and his voice goes soft in a way that cuts right through the terror. “I’m right behind you, baby. Keep breathing.”
I try, but my breath keeps stuttering because Grant is dragging me faster, and the door ahead of us swings open as someone on the other side pulls it for him.
Cold air blasts out.
Fresh air.
Outside.
Grant’s trying to escape with me.
“No,” I choke, and dig my heels into the ground even though it barely slows him. “I’m not going with you. I won’t.”
Grant growls and grabs me by the back of my head, his fingers tangled in my hair as he forces me closer to the door. “You don’t get a choice.”
Jackson’s footsteps pound behind us. “Grant. Let. Her. Go.”
Grant turns and pulls me against him like a shield, holding the knife out. “You take one more step, and I’ll cut her.”
I freeze, but Jackson doesn’t. He steps forward anyway, slow and steady, eyes locked on the knife and then on me. “You won’t touch her,” he says softly, almost like he’s talking to me after I've woken up scared because of a nightmare that I'd just had. “You won’t lay one more finger on her. Not today. Not again. Not ever.”
Grant laughs, and the sound grates through me. “You think you matter to her.”
“I know I matter,” Jackson says, and there’s something in his voice that makes Grant falter. It's only for a second, but that's just enough. I feel it, and Jackson sees it, but then Grant snaps back into motion, dragging me toward the open door again. “We’re leaving,” he says to me, “and you’re gonna learn your lesson again.”
My stomach drops. “No,” I whisper, and I claw at his arm. “No I’m not. I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m not that girl anymore.”
He twists my face toward him with his free hand. “You’re whatever I say you are.”
That breaks something inside of me, and I scream, loud and raw, sounding more animal than human, and it gives the team exactly what they need.
Shouts echo from the hallway behind us, and boots slam loudly against the floor. I listen as someone yells something I can’t make out, and another shouts my name. Grant tightens his hold and jerks me through the doorway, and the cold air hits my skin.
Then, Jackson hits Grant from the side so hard the three of us slam into the concrete wall just outside the door. The knife skitters across the ground, and Grant roars at the loss as Jackson grabs for him.
I crash onto my hands and knees, breath knocked out of me.
“Brooklyn, get back,” Jackson shouts just as Grant lunges for me, but before he can get his hands on me, Jackson tackles him again, and everything becomes chaos.
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