Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

13. Willow

CHAPTER 13

WILLOW

HEAVY IN YOUR ARMS – FLORENCE & THE MACHINE

Clutching Harlow’s hand tight beneath the table, I take a sip of water to moisten my dry throat. We’re on the third hour of questioning as we wrap up our final session in London.

Having exchanged numbers the day before, Harlow offered to sit in on the session with Ethan and the Anaconda team for moral support. I didn’t hesitate before accepting her kind offer.

Having the guys here makes me feel more comfortable, but it’s harder to be honest in front of them. I don’t feel the same pressure with Harlow—she can clearly handle herself and isn’t shocked by my story.

“If I’m understanding correctly.” Ethan taps a pen against his lips, “Mason Stevenson is Dimitri’s supplier, yes?”

“He’s a fixer,” I reply with a sigh.

“How so?”

“Supplying is only half of his role. Whatever mess Mr Sanchez makes, Mason cleans up. Including the dead prostitutes.”

“I see. He’s more of a right-hand man, then.”

“You could say that.”

Keyboards tap and pens scribble. Brows are furrowed in concentration. Faces are pale. The deeper down Alice’s rabbit hole we fall, the grimmer their expressions become.

Mason is the tip of the iceberg. There are suppliers, fixers, security detail, dealers and so much more that props up Mr Sanchez’s legal real estate business’ foundation of evil and sin.

The version of him that exists for the outside world isn’t real. His slick smiles, designer finery and eloquent speeches at charity fundraisers are all part of that carefully constructed image.

Harlow’s grip on my hand tightens. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I whisper back.

“We can take a break if you need to.”

“I’m okay to continue.”

She offers me a smile of encouragement. Refocusing on Ethan and Warner, both leading today’s questioning, I blow out my held breath.

“Mason is the man who tracked us down several months ago. He later travelled to Briar Valley to threaten my daughter’s life if we didn’t return to Mr Sanchez.”

“That won’t happen again,” Tara interjects. “We’ll be providing you with round-the-clock security from now on.”

“Mason’s the real deal.” I lean forward, taking the time to look intently at each team member. “Don’t underestimate him. If Mr Sanchez has tasked him with bringing us back, he won’t rest until that’s done.”

“Don’t underestimate us,” Hyland grumbles.

Tall, well-muscled and broad-shouldered, he’s an even burlier version of Killian, something I didn’t think was possible. My Viking lumberjack has some muscular competition in this guy.

Despite the heavy scarring across his knuckles and continuous lack of a smile gracing his lips, Hyland is solid. I can see the goodness behind his grumpy disposition and gruff kindness.

“Threats aside,” Ethan intervenes with a frown, “Mason Stevenson could be our way in. He can lead us straight to Sanchez’s black market operations.”

“He also owns a successful real estate business and dabbles in investment banking, so he often travels across Europe.” I take another sip of water. “It won’t be hard to find him. Capturing him will be the issue.”

“How so?”

“Mason travels nowhere without his personal security detail and months of preparation. He’s careful. Conscientious. You won’t find a single shred of evidence to pin on him.”

“We’ll see about that,” Ethan quips. “I’m going to need a list of his known associates.”

Nodding, I take the pen and notebook he offers. I was invisible to all of Mr Sanchez’s men which allowed me to hide in plain sight, listening and observing their every move.

I know a damn sight more about their businesses, both legal and not, than any of those monsters would ever give me credit for. I just never had a reason to use the information until now.

Sliding the list of names back over to him, I bite my bottom lip. “There are more, but I can’t remember all of it. Most probably used false identities too.”

“Something is better than nothing,” Warner remarks as he flips through his notes. “What about Pedro? Was he involved in the darker sides of Sanchez’s business?”

A shiver runs down my spine, but I hold it together. My voice comes out raspy and forced.

“No. Only personal protection.”

“You’re sure about that?” he challenges.

“I have no reason to protect a dead man.”

Blanching, Warner ducks his gaze. “Right you are.”

The urge to snap at him again burns through me. I have to bite my tongue to hold a sarcastic retort in. I’ve made it clear that Pedro is off limits.

I won’t have his name dragged through the dirt, regardless of what his job was. Yes, he protected the animal who made my life a living hell. That doesn’t mean he’s to blame for Mr Sanchez’s depravity.

“I think we have everything that we need for now.” Ethan clicks his laptop shut. “You’ll be needed for further questioning should anything new come up, Willow.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you again for your cooperation. We’ll keep you updated on the case’s progress and ensure this information is put to good use.”

“What about our protection?”

“We’ll be following you back to Briar Valley,” Tara supplies. “Hyland and I will take it in shifts to ensure your security until the case is through.”

Killian’s deep, growing voice speaks for the first time. “We’ll arrange suitable accommodation for you in town.”

“That would be appreciated,” Hyland replies.

“I expect hourly updates,” Ethan instructs his team members. “Nothing gets past you. Understood? Willow and Arianna’s safety are my sole concern at this point.”

Tara dips her head in submission. “We’ve got this.”

“Alright, then. You’re all free to leave.”

With a deep sigh of relief, Zach shoots to his feet. He’s practically itching with nervous energy and starts bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Killian’s warm hand grips my shoulder. “Come on, baby. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Yes please. I need to see Arianna.”

Letting him pull me to my feet, I summon what feels like a pathetic excuse of a smile for the Anaconda team. All offer their thanks while Hyland and Tara climb to their feet to follow us.

“Mind if I walk you out?” Harlow asks.

“Not at all.”

“My ride’s waiting downstairs for me anyway.”

Bringing up the rear, she tails us to the elevator, then we ride down in exhausted silence. Killian’s still holding my shoulder, drawing tiny circles into my skin with his thumb.

On the ground floor, Harlow skips ahead to meet the three shadows leaning on the reception desk. They’re talking amongst themselves, but two stop talking when Harlow approaches them.

“Hunter,” she chirps happily.

Tall, dark-haired and sporting a shiny metal disk that’s implanted into the side of his head above a scarred ear, the man throws his arms open to embrace her.

Hunter’s classically handsome and well-dressed in what are clearly expensive jeans. He moves with an air of authority, even in the almost-empty reception area. Everyone seems to gravitate around him.

His partner in crime is an intimidating boulder of a man who causes prickles of fear to stab into my scalp. He’s huge—bigger than Killian and Hyland—as though his body is literally carved from muscle.

“Where’s my kiss?” he growls.

Harlow pecks Hunter’s cheek. “Sorry, Enz. You’re still in the doghouse for messing up my takeout order last night.”

“I forgot one bloody dish!”

“The steamed broccoli is her favourite part of the meal,” Hunter snarks.

“Too right.” Harlow straightens and waves us over. “Willow, this is Hunter and Enzo. They used to run Sabre Security.”

“Before we handed it over to this lump of meat.” Enzo smacks the shoulder of the third man.

With raven-coloured hair, several shiny facial piercings and a body full of dark, intricate tattoos, he’s no less intimidating than his friends, though his blue eyes are warm with recognition.

“Willow,” he greets. “I’m Hudson Knight. My brother and I run the company. Heard a lot about you.”

I subconsciously curl into Killian’s side. “Nice to meet you all.”

“How’s the Anaconda team treating you?” Hunter asks.

Trying not to stare at his strange head implant, I shrug off his question. “They’ve been great.”

“You’re in good hands, Willow. They’ll take care of you.”

He smiles at Tara and Hyland, who both seem to blossom under Hunter’s praise. Despite not running the company anymore, it’s clear he’s still the true source of authority around here.

Hudson’s palpable authority is a little different, more entrenched in silent threat than overt power. He looks terrifying, but there’s also a strange softness about him that sets me at ease.

“Where’s Leighton?” Harlow pouts. “He promised me bubble tea.”

“At the hospital with the others and Brooklyn,” Hudson answers. “Want to head there now?”

“Yes! I am dying for baby snuggles.”

Turning back to me, Harlow pulls me into a tight, fast hug. Her lips touch my ear so she can whisper.

“You’ve got my number. Call anytime, night or day. I’ll be a non-judgemental listening ear.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“You’re not alone, Willow. Even when it feels like it.”

Reluctantly releasing me, she pecks my cheek and gives me a final stern look. All four of them gift us with handshakes and goodbyes before disappearing towards the parking garage.

“Shall we get this show on the road?” Hyland suggests. “It’s a long drive back to Wales.”

Killian cracks his neck. “Let’s get out of this damned city.”

“Not a fan?” Tara laughs.

“You could say that,” Zach answers for his cousin. “Killian’s allergic to people and traffic. You’ll see once you arrive in Briar Valley.”

Both nod, seemingly prepared for what will undoubtedly be a shock to the system. Our tiny, quiet town is the polar opposite of this people-infested sweatbox, even in the dead of winter.

After loading up into Killian’s truck with the other’s blacked-out SUV parked nearby, we peel out of the parking garage with a squeal of tyres. Killian is clearly desperate to escape.

“You alright?” Zach asks quietly.

I snuggle closer to him in the backseat where we’re both sitting. “Tired and I miss Arianna. But I feel good about doing that.”

“You were amazing, babe.”

“I hardly think so. All I did was tell the truth.”

“Zach’s right,” Killian chimes in. “You did so well. That questioning was rough to listen to, let alone face.”

Chest warm with appreciation, I lean between the seats to kiss Killian’s beard-covered cheek before cuddling close to Zach again.

“Thanks, guys. I’m glad you were both here. I know it can’t have been easy.”

Neither answers me. The truth is heavy in the air between us. They both knew what happened to me in Mexico, but hearing about the abuse first-hand has confirmed their suspicions.

I’m broken.

Perhaps irreparably so.

But around them, I want to be whole again. I’m desperate to stitch my shattered pieces together and live the life I always dreamed of while stuck in that soulless mansion.

I deserve that chance at happiness. We all do—especially Arianna. Now’s the time to put the past aside and fight like hell for it, even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Winding through the afternoon traffic, Killian curses and swerves his way out to the motorway heading west. Hyland and Tara follow behind in their SUV.

“How do we feel about those two?” Killian asks.

“They’re helping us,” I point out.

“I know, just don’t love the idea of inviting two strangers into Briar Valley. How do we know they’re trustworthy?”

“Because Ethan trusts them,” Zach answers. “We have to respect his judgement. He assigned them to this job for a reason.”

“I still don’t like it. Strangers don’t belong in Briar Valley.”

“If you want me and Arianna there, then you’ll accept them too,” I snap at him. “That’s final.”

Jaw setting in a tight line, Killian nods once. “Fine.”

He swerves past a slow-moving lorry, and my stomach lurches. I’ve been nauseous, awash with anxiety, the entire time we’ve been in London. His sour mood isn’t helping.

An hour into our journey, Killian lays down on the accelerator. I watch our speed creep up, frowning at the back of his head. We’re on a quiet country road, heading through rural England.

“Kill?”

He doesn’t acknowledge me.

Tara and Hyland are a couple of cars behind us, maintaining a safe distance since our last stop for coffee and fuel. Between us, the other two cars are nondescript and unassuming.

“Killian? You okay?”

Still nothing.

When he abruptly brakes before speeding up again, Zach seems to catch on to something. He glances over his shoulder to look through the rear window, his brows furrowed together.

“Take the left here,” he orders.

At the last second, Killian indicates and quickly turns with a squeal. The blacked-out SUV follows along with one other car—a dark-red, new model with tinted windows.

“They’re following us,” Killian clips out.

“How do you know?” I glance between them.

“They’ve been tailing us since we left London,” he responds grimly. “Watch this.”

Laying down on the accelerator once more, he takes another turn then speeds ahead, leaving the other two to catch up. The red car follows, battling to regain the distance between us.

Right on cue, Zach’s phone rings. He answers with a barked grunt.

“Yeah?”

On the other end, I can hear Hyland’s raspy growl.

“We thought so too. What should we do?”

As he speaks, an invisible demon wraps its claws around my windpipe and begins to twist. Wrenching. Strangling. Clenching. Air ceases to fill my lungs as panic sets in.

“Who is it?” I squeeze out.

“Could be nothing.” Zach takes my hand into his. “Breathe, babe. We have security with us.”

“What if it’s him?”

“There’s a gun in the glove compartment,” Killian reveals, sending a swarm of hornets through my belly. “Just not a legal one. Zach, grab it.”

“You have an illegal gun?” he barks. “Jesus, Kill!”

“I’m not fucking apologising. I got it for exactly this reason. Now take the damn thing, and be ready.”

Swearing under his breath, Zach ducks between the seats to take the gun out. It’s a small, compact model, different from Killian’s usual hunting rifle. I feel the colour drain from my face.

This is real.

It’s happening.

Cutting in front of a slow car, our tail quickly approaches. Also undercutting the dawdling driver, Tara and Hyland are hot on their heels, sandwiching the suspicious vehicle between us.

When it drops back slightly, the vice around my lungs eases enough for me to drag in a stuttered breath. My relief is short-lived, though. The red car quickly surges forward. I scream as it rams into us from behind.

We lurch to the side, and Killian fights to keep his truck on the road. The car doesn’t hesitate before slamming into us again—harder this time, causing metal to groan in protest.

“Fuck!” he roars.

With another ram, he loses control of the steering wheel, and we careen off the road. We fly over a grassy slope, heading straight for a wooden fence.

“Killian!” I scream.

But it’s too late.

There’s no time to move out of the path of danger. At the last second, Zach throws himself on top of me to shield my body, an almighty bang of airbags exploding as we make impact.

Crunch.

Smash.

Shatter.

Pain explodes through my body as we’re jerked forwards, the truck falling onto its side and beginning to tumble. The warmth of blood seeps across my head, and I can hear Killian’s yelling, but it sounds far away.

Please , I whisper internally.

I can’t die like this.

When the truck eventually crashes to a stop, I’m somehow still conscious. The weight of Zach’s body is crushing me, still slumped over my curled-up form. Killian has fallen silent.

The stench of smoke invades the vehicle. All I can hear is my own roaring heartbeat which slams against my ribcage in a painful beat. Agony is pulsating through my extremities.

“Willow!” I hear someone shout.

My eyes feel heavy, almost too heavy to hold open. With the last wisps of my strength, I heave Zach’s weight aside and manage to lift my head. The awaiting sight cuts off my hammering heartbeat.

Zach.

No.

Bright-red blood pours from a huge gash in his forehead, slashed wide open by a jagged shard of glass. He’s unconscious. Slumped over. Rapidly paling and bleeding profusely.

I scream. Beg. Plead and wail. His eyes don’t lift. Killian remains silent. Voices and shouts surround me before the blast of a gunshot pierces the ringing in my ears. Then silence.

The last thing I see before I black out is Zach’s slack face.

Empty and lifeless.