Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

36. Willow

CHAPTER 36

WILLOW

PROMISE ME – BADFLOWER

“Willow. Wake up.”

Rolling over on a painfully hard surface, I can’t peel my eyes open. They’re too heavy. Glued shut. Pain and nausea roll over me in great, blurring tidal waves, both warring for supremacy.

“Ari,” I groan.

“It’s me, dummy. Your girl isn’t here.”

“Ari…”

“Willow!”

I manage to lift a hand and raise it to my stuffy nose, feeling the tender skin and bruising. The burst of pain at my touch allows me to peel my eyes open.

Everything hurts. My busted nose. My head. I can feel blood crusted around my neck and ears from the blows that knocked me into the arms of unconsciousness.

“Damn, girl. They did a real number on you.”

Following the familiar voice across the dank, low-lit room, the floors and ceilings made of damp concrete, I find a shadow propped up against the wall on the opposite side.

Lia’s shoulders are slumped as her head hangs low, obscured by the darkness of what looks like a disused basement. She’s sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest protectively.

“L-Lia?”

“The one and only.”

“What are you doing down here?”

She shrugs, wincing a little. “May have pissed Mr Sanchez off when you were brought in. It didn’t exactly go down quietly.”

As she leans forward, her face shifts into the weak beam of light leaking through the window at the top of the room. It reveals heavy bruising and swelling, warping her features into a misshapen caricature.

“Jesus,” I rasp.

“Not a pretty sight? You should look in the mirror. Not looking so hot yourself there.”

I can feel just how not hot I’m looking based on the steady hum of agony racing through my veins. Lyon delivered a brutal beating.

“The baby!” I panic and move to cup my stomach, searching for any signs of bruises.

There’s nothing, but the wet stickiness between my legs sends my pulse rate skyrocketing. Lia watches with widened eyes as I drop a hand between my legs, and it comes away smeared with red.

No.

Please, God, no.

“I’m bleeding,” I state numbly.

“Fuck.”

Eyes slamming shut, I feel the tears spill over. “This is all your fault.”

“I know.” Her voice is a broken rasp, betrayed by her pain.

Grabbing hold of my terror and strangling it, I reopen my eyes to pin her with an accusatory glower.

“You did this to me! What did I ever do to you?”

“It’s nothing personal.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I had to do as he asked.”

“So he’d continue to supply you, right? This has to be about drugs. That’s why you’re working for him.”

“Working.” She laughs bitterly. “I was bought and paid for, just like you. There’s no quid pro quo situation here. If I’m good, he gives me a bump. Simple as that.”

Stunned, I wrestle my aching body upright. “He bought you?”

Lia nods, silent.

“How long?”

“Months, I think. It’s hard to tell.”

I search for even a shred of sympathy but come up empty.

“I never would’ve done this to another woman when I was in your position,” I hiss at her. “Never.”

“But you didn’t stop him from killing them, did you? The women he hurt in front of you?”

“How… How do you know about that?”

She shrugs. “He likes to talk about you.”

With that disgusting realisation, I’m hit by a wave of pain and nausea. I can still feel myself bleeding down there, worsening the sense of panic that’s eating me alive.

I begin to hyperventilate, feeling the pressure of Lyon’s hands at my throat again. The baby has to be okay. It has to be. This is just a bit of spotting. Nothing to worry about.

My mantras ring hollow. I’m not even twenty-eight weeks. I can’t have this baby right now. That only worsens the terror causing me to fall apart.

“Willow?” Lia asks worriedly.

“Can’t… d-do… this…”

“Motherfucker,” she huffs. “This was not part of the goddamn deal. Alright, I’m coming over.”

Managing to ease herself up, she limps over to me, cursing the entire time. I distantly realise that she must’ve been the one screaming. She’s been beaten as badly as I have, if not even worse.

Lia slumps onto the cold, hard floor next to me then wraps an arm around my shoulders. Even if I hate her guts for landing me in here, I can’t help but lean into her, needing some sense of comfort.

“You’re okay,” she whispers. “It’s just a bit of blood. Breathe.”

“The b-b-baby…”

“Don’t even think that, Willow. The kid’s gonna be fine, alright?”

Rubbing circles onto my back, she guides me through breathing until I can suck in a clear breath again. I rest my head on her shoulder, waiting for the sobs to dissipate.

“We good here?” Lia drones.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“You’re my problem!

“I didn’t do anything.”

“If you hadn’t pulled this shit and ran away… I never would’ve ended up here. Do you know what he does to me, for fuck’s sake?”

“Yeah,” I answer flatly. “Trust me, I know.”

We sit there, cold and shivering. Even our hatred can’t keep us warm in this freezing cold lair.

“How the hell did we end up here?”

“Beats me,” Lia murmurs.

“Where are we?”

Her head lowers. “This is my old family home. Mr Sanchez needed somewhere to lay low while in England, and I wanted to avoid getting my ass beat this week.”

“So you gave him a place to hide?”

“I have to survive too, dammit. You know how the game works.”

Lifting my head, I glance around the basement. “We have to get out of here. There must be a way out.”

“There isn’t.”

“I cannot die down here!”

Pushing off her shoulder, I scramble to my feet, blinking the haze of dizziness away. The basement is seven steps across and nine steps wide. There’s nothing in it but us and a tonne of dust.

Trying the door in the corner of the room, it doesn’t budge an inch. Locked up tight. Even when I slam my shoulder into it and cause my body to scream in pain.

“Shit!” I throw my hands up.

“Found your magic escape route yet, Mystic Meg?”

“You’re really not helping.”

Lia curses as she probes her bruised face. “I’m being realistic.”

Leaning against the wall, I stare at her and imagine burning a hole through her head. “I really hate the sight of you right now.”

“Ditto, sweetie.”

My back skids down the wall as I sit back down and bury my face in my hands. I can only imagine what the guys are thinking right now. They’ll be losing their minds with worry.

God, I miss them. I miss them so fucking much. All those months I spent alone in that crummy apartment were just wasted time when I could’ve been with them, living the life of my dreams.

“I never should’ve left them,” I scold myself. “They were right there, and I walked away. God, I’m so stupid.”

Lia almost manages to look sympathetic. “He would’ve gotten to you one way or another. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? Why shouldn’t I blame myself? If I’d just stayed with the guys instead of pushing them away…”

But in that moment, I couldn’t even see them. All I saw was my trauma, staring back at me and taunting. I wasn’t able to see the overwhelming love they’ve given me in the past year.

“Do you love them?” Lia asks.

I swipe aside tears. “With my whole heart.”

“Then fight for them, Willow. He’s going to try to break you now. Don’t fucking let him.”

Staring at her through my tears, I somehow find the energy to laugh. “Thanks for the advice.”

“One captive to another.” She winks.

Falling back into silence, I watch her curl into a tight ball and squeeze her eyes shut. That’s when the tears hit me at full force again, too many emotions barrelling into me like a speeding freight train.

I did this.

I left them.

If only I’d screamed or fought back. Or found some way to raise the alarm without jeopardising Arianna. But deep down, I know this isn’t my fault. Not really.

Mr Sanchez would’ve found a way to get me back, whether through violence or subterfuge. It was this or watch the people I love suffer, and I’ll always do whatever it takes to avoid that.

Even sacrifice myself.

My unborn child.

My life.

I’ll die living with that guilt. The shameful guilt of realising that I’ve chosen one child over the other, allowing Arianna to live at the expense of my unborn baby. We won’t survive this place.

It feels like hours pass in a blur of tears and quiet, desperate sobbing. Lia stays silent, leaving me to fall apart in peace. My entire body shivers and shakes in the freezing cold air.

When the sound of heavy footsteps and voices breaks our solitude, Lia’s head snaps up as she quickly finds her feet.

“They’re coming.”

I let her pull me up. “What do we do?”

“Stay quiet, and don’t piss him off even more than you already have. Do you want another beating?”

“No.” I recoil, still feeling the sticky mess between my thighs. “I can’t take another.”

Both backing up, we press ourselves into the ice-cold wall so we’re as small as possible. At the last second, Lia takes my hand into hers and clenches it tight.

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t.”

The door clanks open, old and groaning on abused hinges. Lyon steps into the room first, followed shortly by Mr Sanchez in a fresh blue suit, his hair slicked back to unveil his impish grin.

“Evenin’ ladies. How are we feeling?”

Neither of us responds.

Prowling into the room, Mr Sanchez glances around the space with a sneer. He doesn’t even spare Lia a glance, far too fixated on staring at me like he’s discovered a hidden treasure.

“No more funny business.” He points his index finger at me.

I stare up at him, petrified and unable to hide it any longer.

“My patience has now expired. You’re going to do as I say, when I say it, or your baby will pay the price.”

A shudder rolls over me. “Yes, sir.”

He grins at me. “That’s more like it. We’re leaving this country by sunrise, but I’m not going anywhere without my daughter.”

“You’ll never get to her.”

“Oh, I know.” His grin widens. “That’s why you’re going to call those bastards and convince them to surrender my girl to me. We’re going to be a big, happy family again.”

Alarm pierces my chest. “They’ll never do that.”

Pulling a gun out of the holster around his waist, Lyon points it at me. “They will if they don’t want to hear us blow your fucking brains out.”

Storming across the room, Mr Sanchez grabs hold of my chin and yanks hard so I’m forced to look up at him. Righteous fury burns in his blue eyes, sending stabs of fear throughout my body.

“Don’t test me again, Mrs Sanchez. This is your final warning. Don’t forget what you are to me.” He inhales deeply. “ Replaceable. ”

I gulp hard, looking between him and the gun. “What do you want me to do?”

“Good girl. You’re going to call those men and lay out the terms. I want Arianna delivered, safe and sound. She will be alone.” He emphasises the last word. “Else you’re going to pay the price.”

“Delivered where?”

“I have men waiting near Manchester airport.”

My blood chills. “The… airport?”

His eyes sparkle with malice. “This piece of shit country isn’t our home, wife. We’re returning to Mexico as soon as we have Arianna.”

Pulling out a phone, Lyon hands it to me, the gun still aimed at my chest. “Call their number.”

With trembling hands, I take the phone, shakily tapping in Zach’s number and putting it on speakerphone. All I can see is that gun pointed right at me, a second away from firing and ending everything.

Mr Sanchez doesn’t move an inch, still invading my personal space and staring down at me as I let the phone ring. When Zach doesn’t answer, he growls out a curse.

“Again.”

“It’s an unknown num?—”

“Again!” He slaps my face, reopening my split lip.

Licking blood from my mouth, I hit redial then wait, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. I’m a second from giving up hope when the line engages, and a familiar voice causes my adrenaline to spike.

“Who is this?” Zach answers wearily.

“Zach,” I rush out. “Don’t hang up the phone.”

“Holy fu… Willow? Is that you?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I trip over my words in a panic. “You have to listen to me, Zach. I don’t have a lot of time.”

The gun inches closer, still trained on me. Coming to an awful, gut-wrenching decision, I crush the remains of my hammering heart, knowing I have no other choice. I won’t surrender Arianna.

“No matter what they do to me, do not give her to them! Don’t give them Ari!”

Whoosh.

Thud.

Mr Sanchez’s fist connects with my stomach, and I fall, crashing to my knees. I can’t help but cry out as a hot burst of vomit spews from my throat at the sudden avalanche of pain in my belly.

“Willow!” Zach’s voice screams.

I watch through my streaming tears as Mr Sanchez picks up the phone. “I want my daughter back. You’re going to bring her to me, or I’ll kill your child. The choice is yours.”

“Listen here, asshole?—”

Drawing back his foot, Mr Sanchez boots me in the rib cage. I shriek in agony, curling inwards to try to protect myself from the blows raining down. It’s all I can do.

“Stop it!” Zach howls. “Stop hurting her!”

“The girl,” Mr Sanchez hisses. “Manchester airport. Two hours.”

Zach hesitates. “We will never surrender Arianna to you.”

“Then listen to the sound of your child dying.”

As Mr Sanchez lifts his foot to kick me again, Lia flashes across the room. She moves so fast, her bruised body is a blur. I scream as she tackles Mr Sanchez with her remaining strength.

The pair hit the floor and roll, wrestling with each other. Lyon snarls a frustrated curse as he retrains the gun on their tangle of limbs, fighting for a clear shot.

All I can see is Lia. Teeth bared and brows furrowed, battling for her life. For my life. For what’s right. Not even Zach’s bellows of my name pierce the slow motion bubble that’s encapsulated us all.

The bang of a shot being fired slices through the room, silencing everything. Mr Sanchez pushes Lia’s limp body off him before rolling up onto his knees, now covered in fresh blood.

“Fucking whore!” he bellows.

“Lia!” I yell.

But it’s too late. She stares up with blank, empty eyes, slumped across the floor as blood pools around her from the hole in her chest. Dead. Gone. I can’t restrain the hysterical sounds coming from me.

“Wanted to do that for months.” Lyon smirks.

“You killed her!” I wail.

He turns the gun back to me. “Silence, little bitch!”

“My child!” Mr Sanchez howls. “I want my fucking daughter!”

Through the chaos, a familiar voice cuts through the haze. The first voice I heard when I woke up in Briar Valley, terrified and alone. My protector. The man who had the courage to start this whole adventure.

“We’re here, baby,” Killian croons through the phone. “Hold on for me. I’m coming for you.”

I look down at the fallen phone as an almighty crashing sound devours his voice. The small windows high above us shatter into thousands of pieces, sending shards slashing through the air.

Gunfire swallows everything. My stuttered breathing. My hammering heartbeat. Mr Sanchez’s furious shouting. Flashes break through the darkness, and bodies begin to swing into the room.

Launching himself at me, Mr Sanchez takes me down before the first black-clad agent can collide with him. We hit the ground and roll together, both warring to gain the upper-hand.

“You’re mine, Willow!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. “You will always be mine!”

Wrapping my hands around his throat, I dig my nails in and squeeze with all of my strength. It isn’t enough to throw him off, but I’m able to flip us over and manoeuvre myself on top.

“I was never yours!” I spit in his face. “Not for a single second of those ten years! Rot in hell!”

His fist connects with my face, throwing me off again and allowing him to climb back on top. With blow after blow raining down on me, I begin to choke on a mouthful of blood.

“They don’t get to have you.” He punches me in the throat. “No one else gets to have you but me!”

With my eyes falling shut, the pummelling suddenly ceases. So much pain is running through me, I can hardly feel it anymore. My brain has found its familiar numb space and switched off to it.

This is it. My end. In those dark, desperate seconds, all I can see is them. The men who saved my life, time and time again, with their unconditional love. Their acceptance. Them. I’ve lost that forever.

Until there’s a touch.

A whisper.

The brush of softness.

Roughened fingertips stroke over my face, swiping through blood and over bruises to push sweat-stained hair aside.

“Baby,” a grief-stricken voice murmurs. “Open your eyes, princess. Come back to me. Please, please come back to me.”

But I still can’t open my eyes. Not yet. The world is slipping through my fingers like quicksand, and I can’t hold on to it.

“I love you,” he whispers heart-brokenly, his voice fractured with agony. “God, I fucking love you. Open your eyes for me, baby.”

“Kill,” I moan groggily.

He sucks in a sharp, relieved breath.

“It’s me, Willow. I’m here.”

Fighting with my last vestiges of strength, I peel my eyes open and look through the blur of pain and tears up at my saviour. He’s here. Real. Looking down at me through his own tears.

Killian.

It’s always been Killian.

Sliding an arm underneath me, I’m lifted upright where I manage to curl into his chest. All around us, Sabre’s men infiltrate the basement, carrying heavy weaponry and fearsome expressions.

“You’re here.”

Killian presses the gentlest of kisses to my forehead. “I made a promise, Willow. And I never break my promises.”

Lingering over us, Ethan pulls off a thick facial shield and sheaths his gun. He takes one look at me and blanches.

“Jesus, Willow. What have they done to you?”

All I can do is sob, “The o-others?”

“We need medical in here right now,” he says into his earpiece. “And bring the other two in. She needs them.”

Holding me in his arms, Killian wipes blood from his knuckles. Mr Sanchez has been pinned to the floor by Hyland, and Warner holds a gun at his back.

“Take her for me,” Killian demands.

Ethan doesn’t move. “You can’t kill him.”

“You think I need your fucking permission, Tarkington?”

Still refusing to budge, Ethan moves to block the path to Mr Sanchez’s pinned body. I raise a shaking, blood-slick hand to grab Killian’s lapel and tug.

“Kill,” I whisper weakly. “Please… I need you.”

His expression breaks—shattering into a look of such intense grief and regret, it physically chokes me. His pain is almost more overwhelming than mine.

“Look at what he’s done to you,” he says in a pained voice. “You’re bleeding, Willow. The baby?—”

“He’ll be okay.”

“He?”

Moving my hand to my belly, I manage a nod. “I think it’s a he. Don’t you?”

By the grace of God, a smile lights his lips. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then trust me. He’ll be okay. We’re survivors, aren’t we?”

A single tear rolls down his cheek. “That you are, Willow Sanchez.”

Shouting precedes the arrival of the twins, thumping their way down into the basement at full speed. Zach skids into the room first, wild-eyed with terror and struggling to breathe.

“Willow!” he screeches.

Closely followed by Micah, the pair fall to their knees beside me. Neither knows where to look or what to touch, sitting powerless instead as I steadily bleed onto the concrete floor.

“Angel,” Micah whimpers. “What did… he…”

“I’m okay.” I cough wetly. “Just a bit banged up.”

“Banged up?” Zach repeats.

Killian tries to move again. “That son of a b?—”

“Kill!” I cry out.

Freezing still, he holds me tighter, spooned in his arms like I’m a newborn baby unable to look after itself. I suck in a painful breath and look at Micah.

“Don’t let him kill Mr Sanchez, Mi.”

He shakes his head. “Willow…”

“No! He needs to be punished for what he’s done. I want justice, not death. All of the women he hurt deserve more than that.”

Zach smooths down my hair. “We’ve got you, babe. He’ll go down for the rest of his life. We’ll see to it, I promise you.”

Above us, Ethan nods. “Swear on it.”

With their promises relieving some of the pressure on my chest, I grasp Micah and Zach’s hands, letting myself float on a cloud of numbness until the medical team arrives.

“Sir, please step aside.”

“No!” Killian shouts. “I will not!”

“Don’t l-leave me,” I sob.

He cuddles my broken body close. “Never, baby.”

“Never,” Zach echoes.

Micah ducks down to kiss my cheek. “Never, angel.”

My eyes slide shut, safe in the knowledge that my men have me, and they’ll never, ever let me go again.