I ignored the men on either side of the door and caught up to Fender. “Please. What if I never see her again—”
He spun around and gave me a look that was the gateway to the underworld. Eternal flames burned, the threat unmistakable. “I allowed her to live, and you dare ask me for more?” He took a step closer to me, an audible crunch of his boot against the snow. “After what you’ve done to me, you dare ask me for anything else?”
I instinctively stepped back, my nostrils exhaling the moisture from my lungs. His eyes seared mine, so I dropped my chin and looked away. The contact was too painful, too blazing hot. It was like looking directly at the sun.
He took the lead, walking ahead of me, his two men positioned on either side of me from behind. In a perfect triangle, we walked, moving through the camp, past the clearing. Blood wasn’t visible under the noose because none had been spilled last night. The girls weren’t at the benches yet because they were still getting ready for the day. I should only feel relief that I was departing this place forever, but since a part of my heart was still there, it was like leaving home.
Because my sister was home.
We moved to the front of the camp where I’d arrived all those weeks ago. A black horse was there, saddled and ready to go. Fender climbed on then looked down at me.
I just stood there. “I…I’ve never ridden a horse.”
He stared down at me for a couple seconds, his hostile look exactly the same, and then he climbed back down. “Left foot here.” He tapped the metal opening where it was supposed to slide in. “Grip the horn.” He instructed me by putting my left hand on the horn of the saddle and my right on the back of the saddle. “Swing your leg over. Go.” He gripped my hips and lifted me, guiding me up like a father putting his daughter on a pony at the fair.
Now, I was on top of the horse, having a clearer view of the camp because I was so tall.
Fender guided me to the back of the saddle then climbed in front of me. He took the reins of the horse in one hand. “Hold on.” He dug his heels into the sides of the horse, and we took off at a run.
“Oh my god.” I squeezed him hard and pressed my cheek into his back, holding on for dear life. “Can you slow down?”
“No. I’m late—because of you.”
After a long ride, we made it to a main road.
There were men there ready to take the horse into a stable to rest. There were also cars tucked inside a wooden structure covered with ivy and bushes. On the left were two expensive sports cars. The rest were work trucks and cars I used to see on the road every day.
Gray like rain clouds, the car Fender chose was sleek and curvy, a type of car I’d never seen before. I didn’t even know what kind it was. We got into the seats, and he started a powerful engine that was like a small explosion in the beginning before it faded into a gentle purr. He turned on the radio, carefully backed out until he made it to the main road, and then floored it.
It was like riding the horse all over again.
Fender took the road hard, pushing the car to a speed that would kill us instantly if he lost control of the wheel.
My arms covered my chest, and I disappeared into the seat, watching the world fly past us so quickly, it was just a blur. The trees, the grass, the sky, it was all a streak of color. “You might get pulled over…” If I asked him to slow down, he wouldn’t, even if I was scared.
He glanced at me, one hand on the wheel while the other relaxed on the center console. He gave that slight smile, like he knew something I didn’t, and then focused on the road again.
Hours later, we were in Paris.
I couldn’t believe it.
My visit had been short, but the beauty had been so profound, the culture potent, the food exquisite, that it felt like home now. It was the last time I was normal—so it held a special place in my heart.
There wasn’t snow on the ground here, but a light rain dotted the