It’s strange, spending money now. I used to buy things without regard for their cost, but there’s only a few thousand dollars to tide me over. It won’t last forever. I have to feed myself, shelter myself. I have to buy clothing. Some part of me realizes that this is how most people live their lives. To me, it feels something like a game. In my real life, the one where I’m not the prey in a hunt, I can buy whatever I like whenever I like.
The phone I buy is simple. It’s not a smartphone. It’s just a phone. Text and voice. Not even a camera. It’s perfect. Can’t be tracked by something that doesn’t have the technology to be tracked.
Finally, I make the call.
“Parker-Baskerville residence, how may I help you?” The refined tones of my oldest and best friend come over the line and tears spring to my eyes again. I would give anything to be in the same room as Miles, to be sitting with my father as he brings us our meals.
“Miles, it’s me. Chloe. I need you to do something for me.”
I know he must be surprised to hear from me, but he hides it well. “Anything, madam. We’ve missed you. Your disappearance was so sudden we felt it necessary to alert law enforcement.”
“Don’t tell them I’m back,” I say quickly.
“Why not?”
“It’s to do with Daddy,” I try to explain without sounding insane. “He had some enemies in high places. They came for me, and I don’t want them knowing where I am so…”
“It’s alright, Miss Parker-Baskerville. I understand. What can I do for you?”
I give him a list of items. Some of it is simple, more cash. I’m going to burn through my reserves pretty quickly. Other items have sentimental value, or practical. He takes the list in its entirety, and without question, and he agrees to meet me at the place I’ve chosen to stay.
Tomorrow I’ll see Miles again. Tomorrow, things will be one step closer to okay.
* * *
Darko
The old man’s teeth are chattering with fear as I hang up the phone. He gave a good performance, I’ll give him credit for that. I don’t think Chloe suspected a thing.
The first thing I decided to do, once I got over the initial shock of her loss, was to come to her family home. My initial reaction that she had been taken soon faded under Roland’s ruthless logic. For her to have been taken, one of the Order would have to have disrespected me in my own home, and that would mean that they had lost their fear of me. I don’t believe that is the case.
Chloe, on the other hand, is a spirited little creature with her father’s blood. A born rebel, defiant to the core. Of course she found her way out of confinement. I let her show of submission and the display of her vulnerability make me believe in her helplessness. I was too convinced of my own ability to break her down that I didn’t see the strength inside.
The truth is, she took the first opportunity to escape—and put herself right back in the danger I tried to rescue her from.
Roland knows she’s out. He is used to taking women. I have asked him to respect my claim on Chloe, but I know his version of claim and mine are very different. And though he is my friend, I don’t fully trust him not to fuck with me. He’s that sort of guy.
Coming to her family home was a good idea. No matter how unpredictable someone is being, few ever resist the urge to phone home. I got here several hours ago and set up tracking on the phone lines. Every call runs through the laptop that now has her number and location displayed prominently on the screen.
“Get the plane ready.” I give the order over my shoulder. The first time I took Chloe, I worked alone. This time I have a team. Reclaiming her without the same element of surprise is going to be more difficult, but it’s going to happen.
In a few short hours, I’ll have her. That girl is in trouble when I get my hands on her again. My mind is full of dark thoughts, the things I will do to teach her never to defy me again. I am going to cage her and chain her. I am going to punish her sweet body until she begs for mercy and promises never to leave again.
It was tempting to take the phone from the old man, talk to her myself, but hearing her voice secondhand was enough. I don’t want to tip my hand. I want her to think that she’s gotten away with her little escape.
“Please, don’t hurt her,” the old man begs. “She’s had enough pain in her short life.”