Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

22. Willow

CHAPTER 22

WILLOW

THE STAGES OF GRIEF – AWAKEN I AM

Flicking through the case files, I fight to stave off an impending headache. There are hundreds of pages of witness testimony in here along with other case evidence and logs of information.

Ethan left the file with me when he returned to London a few days ago, asking me to read over the other women’s evidence to prepare myself to speak to the new victim that has been found.

It’s hard reading.

One woman, named only as Caroline, describes meeting Mr Sanchez in a bar in Norwich almost fourteen years ago. He offered to buy her a drink, but it must have been drugged.

Next thing she knew, England was a distant memory, and she’d been shipped across the world under a false identity, drugged up and compliant. Just reading it triggered a memory that I’d long since buried.

There’s a noxious, bitter taste in my mouth. Head spinning, I stumble and almost trip up the aeroplane steps until a man with an earpiece catches me. He’s tall and dark-haired with cruel, terrifying eyes.

“Careful, bitch,” he growls.

“Bring her,” another voice commands.

I’m lifted over the man’s shoulder, and the world flips on its head. Pain radiates through my jaw from the swift punch he delivered when I tried to run away earlier.

Blood is thick on my tongue, mixing with the taste of whatever they’ve forced into me. It’s been nothing but pain and blood since we left the club under the cover of night.

“Get on the fucking plane.” He takes a handful of my hair and yanks hard. “You’ve got a long flight ahead of you, whore.”

Flight?

Plane?

I want to scream. I want to beg for my life, run and leave these scary people far behind. What happened in the club… I can’t even think about it. The blood. The pleading. Mr Sanchez didn’t stop violating me even as I begged for my life.

Snapping out of the horrid memory, I feel a shudder wrack my body. I try not to think about those early days. What I can remember of that journey was hard enough to tell Ethan’s team.

It’s the same story.

Vulnerable women, targeted and drugged, taken from their homes to be exploited and abused at the hands of a monster. All different ages and circumstances but bound by their suffering.

There are countless other stories just like Caroline’s in this file. Heidi. Paula. Erika. I have no doubt these aren’t their real names, needing protection from someone like Mr Sanchez and his associates.

There’s a whole ring of them—powerful businessmen, hiding behind their confident smirks and blazing personalities to conceal the real source of their wealth and power.

“Shit,” I curse to myself.

Flipping to the section on the identified players in the human trafficking ring, I recognise several of the men who have been photographed with long-range lenses.

They’re his friends. Associates.

Bastards.

Mason’s in there, grinning widely as he drinks champagne with his wife, Georgina, outside a fancy cocktail bar. I recognise the dusty streets of the Mexican capital. I have no idea when this was taken.

When a hand lands on my shoulder, I startle from fear. Killian spreads his hands in surrender, a worried smile on his face.

“Only me. What’s all this?”

“Information.” I blow out a breath. “I’m preparing to speak to that woman Ethan told me about.”

“Sure you’re up for that?”

“No, not in the slightest. But I have to try.”

Nodding, he drains the last of his coffee then fills the kettle to boil another. He and Zach have been working all morning on the new cabin while Micah is back in the studio, finishing up his latest project.

Life has been normal. Too normal, almost. I can’t relax or feel safe while knowing that Mr Sanchez could be anywhere in the world right now, even England. He’s prowling ever closer.

“He needs to find the fucking bastard before worrying about more damn evidence,” Killian grumbles. “I’m sick of watching you torture yourself over this man.”

“Ethan will find Mr Sanchez. I trust him.”

“It’s Sanchez I don’t trust, not Ethan.”

“Are you still running patrols on the perimeter?”

Killian smooths his long hair, tied back in a messy ponytail. “Every night. The hunters are having a hell of a time catching deer while out there all night.”

“I bet Harold’s loving it.”

“To his bones.”

After kissing the top of my head, he brews a fresh coffee. I resume looking at the case files, nausea twisting in my stomach. Their faces are still staring back at me, those smiles burned onto my brain.

“You eaten today?”

I hum noncommittally.

“You have to eat, Willow. And rest. I don’t like you sitting there for hours, reading this shit over and over again.”

“Kill,” I warn.

“It’s true. At least go and sit on the sofa where it’s comfier. You need to rest after what happened with the bleeding.”

“I am resting. Right here. Go back to work.”

“Fine.” With a curse, Killian heads back outside.

He’s been even more overbearing than usual recently, and I’m over it. While I appreciate everyone’s concern, it isn’t needed. I know how to take care of myself, and I have work to do.

Another lengthy case file later, Demon nips at my feet, demanding attention. I scratch her ears to satisfy her.

“You’re such a little attention hog when Arianna isn’t here.”

The cute as hell dog licks my hand in response then begins to bark. She’s getting antsy after being inside all morning.

“Come on, then. Let’s go for a walk.”

Closing the files up, I stick my head outside to look for the guys, finding them nowhere in sight. Only Tara is standing guard on the porch steps with her phone in hand, no sign of Hyland.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Good. Just getting ready for a walk.”

“Sure thing.”

Snatching my phone from the kitchen counter, I write a quick note for the guys on the pad stuck to the fridge then lace up my walking boots. I need to clear my head after reading those files.

Demon follows me outside when I whistle, letting me attach her lead so we can go for a walk in the dreary afternoon drizzle. I don’t mind the rain. It’s soothing to me.

Tara straightens as I step outside, her eyes flicking over me.

“Where are we off to?”

“Walking this troublemaker.” I waggle the dog lead.

She smiles brightly. “Let’s go.”

We leave the cabin and head into the woods together, enjoying the plush greenery and moss-covered trees. Everything smells wet and earthy. Wildflowers are beginning to bloom as spring arrives.

“I’d forgotten how lovely the town is in the spring.”

Tara nods, walking slightly ahead of me. “It’s definitely a lot different than London.”

“I bet. I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me.”

“You don’t have to apologise. It’s my job.”

“I just feel bad for pulling you both off the investigation.”

“I’ve been working for Sabre for a long time. Investigations come and go.” She hesitates, sparing me a glance over her shoulder. “It’s the people who matter most.”

“Even when they drive you insane?” I laugh. “Zach has a tendency to fill silence with humour.”

“Doesn’t he just,” she jokes before sobering. “This place has been a welcome break. Working for Sabre isn’t exactly easy or allows for much time in the quiet countryside.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime. I mean it.”

“Thank you, Willow.”

Deeper into the woodland, we pass Harold and Theodore out hunting. Both stop for a quick chat and to rub Demon’s belly. She loves all the fuss and attention that people give her.

Leaving them to continue hunting, I decide to push on, loving the fresh air and sense of freedom. The guys wouldn’t like me walking so far, but their over-protectiveness is stifling at times.

“There’s an outcrop up here.” I point ahead into the trees. “You can see the whole t?—”

A sudden, fiery burst of pain explodes through the back of my head. My hands and knees hit the earth, agony blurring my vision until the forest is a green blur around me.

Slumped over, I can just make out the bloodstained rock that’s clasped in Tara’s left hand. It hits the ground with a thud. My pain-filled mind is spinning at the sight of her looming over me.

“I’m so sorry, Willow,” she keens. “I have no choice.”

“Ch-Choice?” I slur.

“The threats he made… Look, I have a family too. I need to protect them. This is life or death.”

He.

Mr Sanchez.

Trying to push myself upright, I crumple when her boot connects with my lower back, shoving me back down. I’m too weak to fight back as warm blood trickles down my neck.

“Shit,” Tara curses in a panic. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Please. You d-don’t have to do this.”

“He’s going to kill everyone I love,” she sobs. “Unless I deliver you to him. That’s what he said when he tracked me down.”

“How long h-have you been working for him?”

Rather than answering me, she just looks sick. At herself. The world. Everything. The Tara I thought I knew was a lie all along. That’s when the missing puzzle piece clicks into place in my foggy brain.

“The accident… They followed us,” the words stumble out. “That was you, wasn’t it? You told them where to f-find us.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, reaching for her gun. “Now you’re going to come with me. We need to get out of here without being seen.”

“This will never work!”

“Get up and walk.”

Unable to stand up alone, she’s forced to drag me to my feet. More pain bursts behind my eyes as the blood continues to flow from my head. I’m woozy and dizzy, so much that I can only stagger.

“I’m sorry, Willow. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

“Then s-stop this.”

“I can’t do that.”

“What h-happened to this job being about the p-people?”

I can feel the gun pressing into my back. One shot and that’ll be it. Over. She’ll send me and the baby hurtling into the arms of death with a single, split-second decision.

I can’t let that happen.

Not now. Not like this.

Focusing on the sound of Demon chasing after us and barking like crazy, I ignore Tara’s cursing and try to formulate a plan. She’s clearly acting impulsively after seeing an opening to snatch me.

That’s my advantage. Her panic. If I can find the right opening, I have to make a run for it. I’ll die on my feet fighting to be alive before letting her shoot me in the middle of a forest.

“There’s a mountain road out of Briar Valley up ahead,” Tara instructs, the gun still painfully pressing into me. “Take a right, and keep walking.”

“What’s your plan from there?”

“God knows,” she mutters. “Staying alive.”

“When did he contact you? How?”

“Enough talking! Just walk.”

Ducking beneath a fruit tree, I spot several cabins in the distance, through the underbrush. Briar Valley is far below us. As far as anyone is concerned, I’m safe with Tara. No one is coming for me.

I have to do this myself.

Alone.

With a breath, I deliberately trip over a rock and fall to my knees again with a dramatic cry. Pain slices through my legs, but it’s overshadowed by the violent hammering of my heart.

“Get up,” Tara hisses.

“I can’t.”

“I don’t have time for this!”

Ducking down to slide her hands beneath my arms, she’s momentarily distracted. This is my opening. Murmuring a silent prayer, I dig my heel in and prepare to strike.

Rising above her as fast as my unsteady body will allow, I move quickly and snap out my balled-up hand. It collides with her left cheek harder than I was expecting, and she falls backwards.

Something in my brain clicks. I shift into a strange, focused state where all I can see is the bead of blood on her cheek from my punch. Keeping up the momentum, I hit her again.

THWACK.

Tara falls flat on her ass, grunting in pain. I take the chance to bolt away from her into the nearby trees. The forest passes in a terrifying blur around me as Demon chases, hot on my heels.

“Willow!” Tara shouts.

Screaming as loud as my lungs will allow, I race back in the direction we came, hoping to come across somebody. The woods are unrecognisable in my state of complete and utter panic.

“Willow! Stop!”

“Leave me alone!” I scream back.

Dodging through fir trees and wild berry bushes, I don’t notice the tree root until it’s too late. Hurtling through thin air, I fall again, scraping my hands on a thorny bush in the process.

Face-planting in a muddy puddle, I scramble and try to find my feet again, but it’s too late. Demon whines as Tara approaches, a trail of blood staining her face.

“There you are.” She grimaces. “You have a hell of a right hook.”

“Get away from me!”

“I can’t do that, Willow. Come quietly, or this will get messy for both of you.”

Tara nods at the swell of my small bump. I protectively cover it, feeling a surge of fury. She’ll have to go through me to touch my baby. I’ll rip her fucking face off with my bare hands.

“Touch me again, and you’ll live to regret it,” I spit at her.

Lifting the gun, she trains it on my midsection. My heart stops dead in my chest, and the tears almost threaten to fall, but I hold them back, refusing to show her even the smallest shred of weakness.

“Move,” she snarls.

“Please, Tara. Don’t do this.”

“I have no choice.”

Before I can stand up again, there’s a distinct, metallic click. Footsteps crunch over fallen twigs, and a figure emerges through the thick tree line with a hunting rifle raised high.

“Hands up,” Harold barks, holding the gun steady.

Tara switches her aim to him. “Back off, old man. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Well, you’re pointing a fuckin’ gun at my girl here, so I think that it does.”

Shuffling backwards, I grab Demon and hold her close to keep her safe. She’s snarling her head off and far too ready to throw herself into the fight despite still only being a tiny puppy.

“Final warning.” Tara cocks the gun threateningly. “I’m leaving with Willow, one way or another.”

Harold refuses to back down, inching closer to the gun instead. I want to grab him and scream at him to run away. She’s unhinged and more than ready to shoot him.

Everything happens so fast, it’s a petrifying blur. Tara lunges at the same time Harold moves to squeeze the trigger on his rifle. The pair smash into each other, then there’s an almighty bang.

Ears buzzing, I desperately crawl through the mud to reach Harold. He’s fallen backwards, winded and pale-faced. I search his body for injuries, but find nothing.

Opposite him, Tara is gasping in pain. She’s curled up tight and clutching her stomach where blood gushes out, encircling her in a crimson puddle that soaks into the moss.

“Gotcha,” Harold wheezes. “Are you okay, Willow?”

“N-No.”

“It’s alright, kid. I’m here. You’re safe now.”

After struggling to lift himself, he pulls me into a side-hug. I peel his hands away to crawl closer to Tara. She’s still conscious and trying to cover the gushing wound in her midsection.

“We can’t let her die!”

“She deserves it,” Harold spits. “Self-defence.”

“Help me!”

Muttering to himself, he pushes Tara’s hands away and uses his own to apply pressure to the wound. I just watch. I’m barely able to hold myself upright, let alone tend to her. Blood is still trickling from the back of my head.

Reaching for my phone, I blink through my dizziness to find Zach’s number. He always has his phone on him. The ringing sounds far away as I sway, battling to remain kneeling upright.

“Hello, hot stuff,” he answers. “To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your heavenly voice?”

“Zach,” I sob.

His tone immediately changes.

“Willow? What is it?”

“T-Tara… she… H-Harold shot… Help. Need help.”

“Woah, slow down. Take a breath, babe. Where are you?”

“N-Near St David’s Pointe, below the outcrop you sh-showed me.”

“Hold on, babe. We’ll be there soon.”

Clutching the phone in my bloody hand, sobs begin to rattle my frame. Over and over. Violent, chest-aching sobs that I can’t control. We came so close to losing everything.

“Willow,” Tara chokes out. “I’m s-s-sorry. He didn’t g-give me a choice.”

Blood is trickling from the corners of her mouth as Harold struggles to keep her conscious. She’s ghostly white and staring at me with so much pain in her widened eyes.

“You always have a choice,” I reply shakily. “Always.”

Another wave of dizziness taking over, I lay down on the moss-covered ground, and my eyes slide shut. I can hear Harold repeating my name, but it’s easier to curl inwards to protect my belly and let the darkness take over.

It feels like hours have passed before approaching voices and shouting startles me back to reality. Tara’s unconscious a few metres away while Harold shakes her, over and over again to no avail.

“Willow!” Killian’s voice echoes through the woods.

Harold shouts back, directing them over to our blood-slick tangle amidst the trees. When the first pair of hands reach for me, I yelp and battle against them, terrified of being touched.

“Baby,” Killian pleads, his voice low and broken. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

“K-Killian!”

I’m lifted onto his lap, and Zach leans over us both to cup my cheeks. He searches my face and eyes, wearing a look of total panic that sends my own anxiety spiralling again.

“What happened?” he asks urgently.

All I can do is point at Tara, unconscious and bloodied.

“Who shot her? Is Sanchez here?”

“Tara t-tried to take me,” I weep, still cuddling my bump. “She’s w-working for him.”

Zach swears colourfully, glancing over the scene as he tries to process the madness around us. Killian is also cursing beneath me as his hands find the source of the blood covering my mud-stained clothing.

“Fuck,” he says to himself.

“She… hit me with… a r-rock.”

Gently probing my head with soft fingers, I hiss when he hits a sore spot. Killian kisses my hair and apologises, holding me so tight in his arms, I almost can’t breathe properly.

“She was supposed to be protecting you!” he growls in a deadly tone. “I’m going to fucking kill her myself. She doesn’t deserve our help.”

“No,” I gasp.

“Willow—”

“Get D-Doc. Help her.”

Curling my arms around his neck, I snuggle into his flannel shirt, needing the comfort of familiarity. The pain in my head reaches its peak, and my vision darkens again, swallowing me whole.

Fading.

Fading.

Gone.