Despicable by Rory Miles
BELLATRIX
The transport team arrives a few hours later. I can’t even find it in me to muster up a fight. They take the chains off, which draws a strangled gasp from me, but otherwise I don’t react to the burns coating my skin. My entire body aches from the bond breaking, and I can’t differentiate between the pain of the wounds and the hurt of the rejection.
I can’t imagine what it would feel like if the bond had fully taken hold.
Not bothering to look at the two men, I stare at a spot on the wall as they yank me from the chair. They grip me so tight I wonder if they expected more of a fight. I walk, keeping up with their unhurried pace with ease and don’t bother giving them hell. The silver must have drained my energy more than I thought, because there’s no way I’d go this willingly if I were at full strength.
My sister squeaks from down the hall and races to me. The guards shout at her to stop, but she ignores them and launches herself at me, latching on to me like a monkey. Her embrace is suffocating, and ultimately the sound of her crying gets to me. The dam breaks and tears pour out of me hard and fast. Bella’s body shakes, and she sniffs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“Please, don’t take her,” she begs the men, but their hold tightens on me once more. Not even her pretty face and broken heart will sway them.
“Bella,” Dad says, placing his hand on her back.
Our gazes meet and hold. His shine with moisture, and guilt gnaws at me for breaking down so hard. The more I show my pain, the more it will hurt them. A steady breath is all I need to tuck away the shuddering pants. There’s nothing I can do for my wet cheeks but to stop crying.
“Trixie,” he whispers in such a tender voice I almost start weeping again.
“It’s okay.” I glance away, not able to look him in the eye when I speak such a blatant lie.
Bella fights him when he begins to pry her off, but when he scolds her, she deflates and climbs off of me.
“I’ll miss you so much.”
I gasp, but manage to keep a hold of my emotions. “B-squared for life,” I murmur, reminding her of what we used to refer to ourselves as when we were little.
Her lip trembles, and the guys holding me seem to run out of patience because they shoulder past my dad and sister, dragging me through the cabin with their quick steps. Mom is waiting by the door, a hard frown marring her pretty face. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. There’s nothing but love in her soft green eyes, and I can hear everything she can’t seem to say out loud.
She loves me.
Be safe.
She wishes this weren’t happening.
You’ll be okay, Trix.
Dipping my chin, I acknowledge her silent thoughts. “I love you, Mom.”
A single, fat tear traces down her porcelain skin. Realizing I’ve caused my family enough pain, I start to walk as fast as the men, passing through the door, across the yard, and getting inside their SUV without protest. Silver handcuffs are snapped in place around my wrists, but not even the instant spark of pain bothers me. If anything, it helps take my mind off of what’s happening.
Resting my head against the cool window pane, I watch the landscape pass by, soaking up every mile and memorizing it. Maybe if I can call my family, I’ll be able to understand the places they refer to.
I don’t even know if they allow phones. My pockets are empty. I don’t have my purse. They didn’t grab my suitcase, so all I have that’s mine are the clothes I’m wearing.
“How long will the drive take?”
“Don’t speak.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter to the gruff guy, which only makes him chuckle.
Neither of the men talk to me the rest of the way. I knew rejects were looked down on, but I didn’t realize how shitty they were treated. Eventually, we make it to a private airport with one small strip for landing and taking off. The sleek black vehicle comes to a hard stop fifty yards away from a plane.
The cuffs stay on as one of the guys unbuckles and helps me out of the SUV. I hold my chin high, walking up the stairs and into the plane like I’m not being carted off to Hell. I’m roughly put in a seat, and the men sit in the spots directly across from me. This plane isn’t like a commercial one, there are only a dozen seats, and the rows face each other, like whoever bought this plane planned on having lengthy conversations with their travel companions.
“I expected some screaming.” The one who not so nicely told me not to speak gives me a smirk.
Looking at him, I merely lift an eyebrow and shrug. “It won’t change anything.” I yawn and a wave of exhaustion crashes into me. I fight to keep my eyes open as the air in the cabin switches on. We’re about to take off.
“The silver is making you tired. You should sleep. We’ll be there in a few hours.” This comes from the other guy. There’s no pity in his eyes, only cold observation.
No sympathy for the broken, I guess.
Given my options of staring at them the entire ride, avoiding their gazes, or sleeping, I choose a nap.
The rest I do get isn’t enough, and I’m not able to relax to truly let my guard down and slip into dreamland. The flight attendant, who must get paid extremely well, comes to give them drinks, but she completely ignores me. Since I’m pretending to sleep, I can’t tell if it’s because I look like I don’t want to be disturbed or because they don’t think I deserve the decency of being offered a refreshment.
Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.
When the pilot announces our arrival, I sit up and glance out of the window, catching sight of a body of water. I spot a bridge, which connects Wolfe Island to the mainland, and then we fly lower and lower until we land on another tiny runway. Trees surround the airport, and the rocky terrain reminds me of Colorado. We’re somewhere north of upstate New York though, not in the middle of the country.
“Time for processing.”
I’m yanked up by my biceps, and I growl at the men. “I can walk on my own.”
“There’s the spark,” the gruff one says. “Sorry, doll. I’ve been fooled one too many times by a pretty face. If you try to run, it means I have to catch you. Then the elders find out, and no one wants that to happen. Trust me and be a good girl.”
Glaring at him, I lean into his hold, wondering if I can get in a headbutt. “I’m not a good girl.”
“Apparently not. Isn’t that how you ended up in this situation?”
“Asshole,” I seethe, but he shrugs and leads me to the front of the plane.
“Hey, I’m being honest. If you ask me, I don’t mind a more experienced woman, if you know what I’m saying, but I’m not your fated.” He walks in front of me as we go down the stairs, holding on to the handcuffs.
“Stop. Talking.” The other guy, the one who must be in charge of this mission, breathes down my neck, forcing me to go faster.
I shudder when my feet hit the concrete and scoot to the side so he’s not at my back.
“Don’t talk to her.”
“Whatever,” the other guy, who I guess is now the nice guy instead of the gruff guy, mutters.
“You two are real peaches, you know that?”
They both scowl at me before ignoring me.
I guess that ends the conversation portion of Let’s Destroy Bellatrix’s Life.
* * *
Processing wasa sterile and unnerving event. The case worker who took care of me hardly looked at me, only asked me a few pointed questions, tsked, and pursed her lips. The most annoying thing of all was when she muttered what a shame. Being cuffed makes more sense now after that, because had I had free use of my hands, I might have bitch-slapped her.
The boat I’m riding in hits a wave, jolting me to the side. I reach up and grasp the oh-shit bar on the back of the seat in front of me. My two guards still won’t talk to me, but I’ve deduced that there will be no driving to the island I’ve been assigned to.
Wolfsbane Island.
How fitting.
Dark blue water ripples, cresting in white tips as the sleek speedboat cuts through it. We pass a few islands before the captain takes a sharp left and heads toward a small dock. Through the generous smattering of trees, I can make out the shapes of a few large homes. There is no beach, only steel colored rocks lining the steep rim of the land. The ruddy brown dock is worn and in need of a fresh coat of sealant, but the captain doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about tying his boat to the rundown post.
My neck pricks with awareness and the hair there rises, warning me that someone is watching me. I glance at the guards, but they’re talking to the captain, which means whoever it is, is on the island.
“All right, princess. Here’s your new home.”
I ignore the guard as he helps me off the boat and study the trees, trying to find the spy. Spy is probably an exaggeration, but this is a private moment and they have no right to watch me being dumped here. Though if I lived here, I’d probably be watching the arrivals as well.
We reach the end of the dock, and he unlocks the cuffs. I glance down and watch as they remove them from my wrists. My skin hasn’t healed yet, if it even will, and the flesh where the cuffs rubbed is raw and angry.
“Good luck,” the nice guard says with a hint of amusement. “You’re going to need it.”
I glance at him, taking in his proximity, the smirk on his face, and make a decision I’ll probably come to regret. Curling my fingers into a fist, I punch him in the face, enjoying the immediate rush of blood as his nose breaks.
“Not again,” the quiet one says.
Turning to give him the same reaction, I stop when I see a black baton pointed at my chest. He presses a button and it zaps, electricity jumps between the two metal prongs at the end.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” He moves faster than I can, and the prod jams into my stomach.
“Oh, fu—” My words are cut off when he turns the taser on and white clouds my vision. Every muscle in my body tenses, and I’m stuck convulsing where I stand as lightning courses through me. I hear a scream, not registering the sound is coming from me until he stops pressing the small black button and steps back. It takes another few seconds for me to stop yelling and for my body to relax. My knees give out, and he scoffs. I try to look at him, but I can’t lift my head.
The world tilts. My body thuds to the ground, sharp rocks biting into my skin. The guards must leave because I hear the sputtering motor start before it speeds away, leaving me on the ground like roadkill.
“Fuck,” I finally say, the word comes out muffled since my cheek is pressed into the ground.
What now?