Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

11. Willow

CHAPTER 11

WILLOW

JUST LIKE YOU – NF

Slick sweat covers my palms as I clench and unclench them in my lap. The hum of Killian’s truck cuts through the blare of horns and humming traffic all around us.

“Motherfuckers,” Killian snarls.

“Take a breath, cuz.” Zach laughs at him. “This is London. Traffic is pretty much guaranteed.”

“It’s everywhere!”

“Your point being?”

“Shut the fuck up, kid. You’re not helping.”

“Kill,” I hum anxiously. “Please calm down. I’m struggling to keep it together as it is.”

Glancing into the rearview mirror, he takes one look at my pale, clammy face and shuts up. We made the tough call to leave Arianna in Briar Valley while we left Wales and travelled into England’s capital city.

I didn’t want to risk anyone spotting her and raising the alarm. We’ve already seen that Mr Sanchez has allies in this country—the incident with Mason several months ago proved that.

“Sorry,” Killian mutters. “Where is this place anyway?”

“Ethan said we’ll know it when we see it,” Zach replies, the window open as he lights a cigarette. “Sabre HQ is huge.”

Crawling through the huge line of traffic, he’s finished his cigarette by the time we arrive in an intimidating business district. Massive skyscrapers kiss the clouds all around us.

The buildings are made of sleek panels of glass and polished steel, forming monstrosities that carve the city’s landscape. Killian’s grip on the wheel tightens. He really hates this place.

All around us, men and women run all over the place in their smart business wear and sleek high heels. No one walks at a casual pace. We’re far from the slow living of Briar Valley.

“That’s the place.” Zach whistles. “I recognise the logo from the news.”

The biggest building of them all lies up ahead in huge, tinted proportions. It stretches up so high, I can’t see the top floor, surrounded by low-hanging London clouds.

A logo is proudly displayed above the sprawling entrance steps, lined with dark-clothed security agents in black sunglasses. It’s an intricate thumb print, the text below pronouncing the words Sabre Security.

“We’re here,” Killian declares.

“Fuck me,” Zach exclaims. “It’s even bigger than I imagined.”

Following the signs into the parking garage, we’re screened by security and given a thorough checking over before we’re allowed through. Ethan has our names on a visitor’s list in preparation.

Killian curses constantly while attempting to park the truck between two slick sports cars, both worth more money than we’ll ever see in our lifetimes. It takes him three attempts.

“Bastard thing,” he hisses. “Let’s get this over and done with. I want to get home before the next snowstorm blows in.”

Zach claps him on the shoulder. “We need to worry about one thing at a time. Ethan’s booked us a hotel for the night.”

Cursing again, Killian climbs out in a storm of annoyance. He really is a grumpy son of a bitch today. I wish I could blame him.

“Willow!”

Walking through a rear entrance door, Ethan waves us over. He’s whispering into the comms slotted in his ear when we reach him.

“Yeah, they’re here. Alright, Hud. We can handle the interview if you need to head off early to be with Brooklyn.”

Finishing up his conversation, Ethan offers us a round of handshakes. Killian’s silently sizing him up with a scowl on his face.

“Sorry for that,” Ethan apologises. “You’ve caught us on a busy day. A friend of ours has gone into labour.”

“Bad timing?” I laugh nervously.

“Not at all. Thank you for coming in, Willow. We’re glad you’re here. Let’s go inside.”

He waves us in and scans his security pass to let us inside. That’s where my jaw drops. Led through a service corridor, the reception we step into is breathtaking.

A seemingly endless ceiling stretches into the heavens, while sleek floors and glass walls brighten the space. Much like outside, people buzz around in all corners.

Some talk on phones while others talk to one another, exchanging whispers and heated conversations. There’s an intense hum of energy from everyone amidst the hustle and bustle.

“We’re going to head upstairs and meet the rest of my team first,” Ethan advises. “Then we’ll have a chat about the investigation and your role moving forward.”

Without thinking, I take both Zach’s and Killian’s hands. I need them to hold on to me right now so I don’t run out of here screaming.

The elevator ride is full of tense silence until we arrive on a high level, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of London’s impressive skyline.

Holding the door open for us, we’re ushered into a big, plush office, complete with a dark-wood conference table, coffee trolley and several people whose heads turn in our direction.

“Everyone, this is Willow Sanchez.” Ethan gestures towards me. “And Killian.” He waves again. “Along with his cousin, Zach.”

We all smile tightly, feeling the tension and pressure. There are two men and one woman sitting inside, all in their mid to late thirties and wearing the same all-black clothing as everyone else.

“Warner.” Ethan points at the salt and pepper haired man. “This is Hyland.” He includes the huge, boulder-like man in his wave. “And this is Tara. We’re the Anaconda team.”

The woman offers me a wave. Her long, light-brown hair is tied up in a no-nonsense ponytail that shows off her young face and cool, professional smile.

“Sit down, guys. Help yourselves to a refreshment.”

After introductions, we take our seats and a round of coffees. Ethan sets himself up at the head of the table to preside over us all.

“There are several teams at Sabre Security operating under different divisions,” he explains. “We’re one of the investigating teams. It’s a big operation.”

“Looks like it,” I croak.

“Our team has been investigating this human trafficking ring for over a year now, stretching from here to the United States, Mexico and Brazil. We’re looking at a massive international gang.”

My throat thickens with the surge of sickness threatening to rise up. I swallow hard, washing it down with a swig of coffee. Their eyes are all on me, even subtly when they think I’m not looking.

“How many victims have you tracked down?” Killian asks in a hard, angry voice.

“Officially? Over forty-five,” Warner replies. “Along with another thirty who refuse to go on record about what happened.”

“We suspect the real number to be in the tens of hundreds,” Tara adds with a shudder. “There are more people out there.”

Sliding my hand beneath my sweater sleeve, I stroke my fingertips across the fresh cut I slashed into my wrist this morning. I had to hide my face in a towel as I sobbed so Arianna didn’t hear.

Those women out there are me. We’re the same person, our blueprints reproduced and reprinted across the globe, over and over, for other people’s sick pleasure.

No matter what I say or do here, I can’t take back the pain and bloodshed I know they’ve suffered. Intimately. The memories are still raw in my mind despite a year passing since I escaped.

“Willow?” Hyland prompts.

I look up at him. “Yes?”

“We understand that you’ve requested protection. Our team will be returning to Briar Valley with you to ensure your security.”

“All of you?”

“Myself and Hyland,” Tara supplies.

“I’ll remain here with Ethan and the other teams to continue the investigation,” Warner finishes. “We’ll get the job done.”

“I… feel bad,” I admit in a low voice.

Killian rubs my shoulder. “Why, baby?”

“I’m taking them from their jobs and the investigation.”

“Our number one priority is to keep you safe,” Ethan offers. “That matters above all else, including the case.”

Absently rubbing my chest, I nod and force a breath. “I’ll tell you everything I remember about Mr Sanchez and his men. He had a lot of people working for him, and other business associates.”

“Any information you can give us will help.” Warner nods encouragingly. “We want to identify these people to ensure everyone involved is brought to justice.”

All drawing out laptops and notepads, the entire room’s focus is on me as they start a voice recorder. Sipping more coffee, I dive into a description of Mr Sanchez’s Mexico mansion and all its staff.

I get halfway through before it becomes too much. Just describing the marble floors and dark, brocade wallpaper brings up a plethora of awful memories, dipped in blood and tears.

“We understand that Dimitri Sanchez has a personal security team.” Ethan slides a file across the table to me. “Tell me, do you recognise this individual as one of them?”

Opening the file with shaking hands, I almost throw up at the photograph inside. Pedro’s face is staring back at me in printed pixels, displaying every last smile line and twinkle in his eyes.

“P-P-Pedro,” I gasp.

“He’s been missing for over a year,” Ethan says sadly. “We’ve also heard from Mexican authorities that his family disappeared at the same time he did.”

Buddum.

Buddum.

Buddum.

All I can hear is my heartbeat roaring in my ears, drowning out the rest of his words. I stare down into his familiar, love-filled eyes. A gaze that soothed me in the darkest of times.

He died alone. In agony. Knowing that his actions had cost him, and his family, their lives. I walked away from that mansion, but none of them did. I have to live with that.

“I... excuse me,” I blurt, my chair scraping back. “I’ll be right back.”

Zach tries to snag my sleeve as I pass, but I flash him a warning look and burst out of the room alone. I need a moment to take a breath without all of their eyes weighing me down.

Scanning the corridor, I spot the sign for a bathroom then run at full speed to escape. The stall door doesn’t even shut behind me before I’m on my knees and retching into the toilet bowl.

Over and over, acid spews up from my stomach and splatters against the pristine ceramic as I sob my eyes out. I can’t even stop when the bathroom door creaks open.

“Are you okay in there?” a female voice asks.

Uncaring of how gross it is, I rest my sweaty head on the toilet lid and suck in a breath. “Not really.”

“Breathe in through your mouth, so you can’t smell it,” she advises kindly. “Want me to get you some water?”

“I’m f-fine.”

“You don’t look it.”

The sound of a tap running precedes her reappearance at the stall doorway. A wet paper towel is pressed against my forehead as she cleans the sweat from my face.

“That’s it, deep breaths.”

She sucks in a loud breath then blows it out for me to copy. Following her lead, I make myself recreate her exaggerated breathing to free up my lungs. The shadows at the edges of my vision begin to fade as each intake relieves some of the pressure.

“Give me your hand, I’ll help you up.”

“Th-Thanks.”

Putting my faith in the complete stranger, I let her drag me to my feet and flush the toilet. Turning to face her, I realise she’s a similar age to me, at least in her mid-twenties.

Her mousy brown hair is long, almost brushing her lower back, framing flawless blue eyes that compliment her porcelain skin and slightly crooked nose.

Something about her makes me pause. Maybe it’s the haunted look in her crystal-clear eyes. Or maybe it’s the darkness wrapped around her features that seems to call out to my soul.

“I’m so sorry you had to witness that,” I choke out.

She shrugs. “I’ve seen worse. You looked like you needed a friend. I’m Harlow.”

“Willow.”

“Our names are kinda similar, huh?”

I move to the sink to wash up. “I guess so.”

“That means we were meant to meet each other in here,” she jokes.

“I guess so.”

“You’re not Willow Sanchez, are you?”

“You know me?” I look up at her.

Harlow smiles reassuringly. “Nothing bad, I swear. Ethan told me you were coming in today. I was hoping to catch you at some point.”

“Do you work here or something?”

“Not really,” she says mysteriously. “It’s complicated. I wanted to say hi and see how you’re getting on with the team, but it seems my question has been answered already.”

“It’s going okay, I just freaked out a bit,” I admit with a short laugh. “It’s intense, going on the record in front of strangers.”

“I’ve been there.” She holds my gaze. “It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do, but I promise, this is the right thing for everyone.”

Her voice tells me that she understands, perhaps more than anyone has ever been able to before. I can see it in her eyes, the familiar pain and heartache mixed in with that darkness.

She’s been where I am. I can’t fathom how or why I know, but that kind of trauma reveals itself to fellow survivors. We can see each other’s pain for what it is as clear as day.

“How did you do this?” I ask honestly.

Harlow offers me a hand. “Not alone.”

Even though she’s a stranger who I barely know, I trust her. The shadows in her eyes are so familiar, I can almost taste them, but there’s light too. It clings to every part of her—the glimmers of hope.

With a deep breath, I take her hand. “Thank you.”

She winks. “Don’t mention it.”

Chest still tight, we exit the bathroom together and head back down the corridor. Harlow refuses to release my hand, holding on tight so I don’t fall over in my dizziness.

“You do this on your terms, though.” She squeezes my hand. “Don’t let them push you to your breaking point. Take another break if you need it.”

“You’re suspiciously well-versed in how all this works.”

“Personal experience,” she admits.

“As part of this investigation?”

“No, not this one. My case wrapped up around six months ago.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Her lips twist in a rueful smile. “The owners of the company keep me around. For now.”

I have a feeling this is an inside joke that I’m not privy to. I’ve yet to meet Ethan’s bosses, but if they’re anything like this place, they must be intimidating.

Outside the door, I almost freak out again. Harlow stops in her steps before the panic attack can fully take hold and places her hands on my shoulders so she can encourage me to breathe again.

Dragging in deep gulps of air, I make myself remain calm. It’s just a room full of people. I’ve faced far worse and survived. Blood. Pain. Death. Torture. I can tell my story and live through it again.

“Remember, you’ve survived 100 percent of your worst days,” she says with a knowing wink. “You sure as hell can survive this.”

“Shit.” I laugh shortly. “Maybe we were meant to meet each other today, Harlow.”

Her hand squeezes my shoulder. “I don’t believe in maybes anymore. Only fate.”

“Is that so?”

“Doesn’t everything happen for a reason?” she challenges. “We’re here right now because we’re supposed to be.”

“I’m not sure that I believe in fate.”

Harlow shrugs. “Then believe in yourself. It’s the same thing. Believe in the fact that you’ll get through this because you have to.”

Blinking away tears, I rest my hand on top of hers. “Thank you, Harlow. I’m glad we bumped into each other.”

She smiles. “Me too. Ready to do this?”

“As I’ll ever be.”