Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

I did believe her. I believed every word she was saying, her eyes alive with the horror and fear from so many years ago.

“I got back in touch with Fred,” she said. “I told him to look after you. To keep an eye on you.”

“He was waiting for me,” I told her. “Waiting with clues I’d never been looking for before.”

“It was too soon,” she whispered, and this time she really did reach her hand out to grab at mine. I could barely swallow to see her fingers against my skin. “You found out when you were ready. When you were ready to do something about it.”

And I was ready. She was seriously fucking right I was ready.

“I have other copies of that,” she told me. “On memory cards, I mean. I have some backups online too. Ready if I need them.”

I pulled a napkin from a holder to the side, fished out a pen from my inside pocket, and I scrawled the names. Contacts at a couple of media agencies, contacts of some judges I’d never been able to get on side. That none of us had in all the nefarious activities.

“If I don’t get back to you in twenty-four hours,” I told her, “please will you send a copy of the memory card contents to the people on this list. It absolutely needs to happen.”

She nodded, her lower lip pinched between her teeth. “If you don’t get back to me in twenty-four hours after confronting Drake, is it? It’s dangerous, Bran. It’s going to be dangerous.”

She was right. It was. But I had no time to worry about that. Not now.

“Twenty-four hours,” I repeated. “You don’t have to put yourself on the line, not for anyone. Just send it anonymously to all these people if I don’t get in contact.”

“Fine,” she said. “If you’re sure this is the right thing to do.” Her fingers squeezed mine again once I’d handed the napkin over. Her smile was sad and kind both at once. “I hoped you’d have found your own happy family too after all this time,” she told me. “I hoped maybe you were out there somewhere in a quiet little house with a little kid or two of your own.”

“Not quite,” I told her, my own smile sad and kind at her familiarity, both at once. “But maybe one day in the not so distant future, hey?” I finished. “That would be nice to finish up this sorry fucking saga with.”

I got to my feet and she downed the rest of her tea before getting to hers and tugging on the raincoat from the back of the chair.

“What’s her name?” she asked. “The girl you’re thinking of?”

I wouldn’t have usually answered in a million years. Too fucking closed up to share shit with anyone, but her eyes were digging, and her smile as compelling as it ever had been.

“Paige,” I said. “Her name’s Paige.”

“Paige,” she repeated. “I hope things work out with you and Paige. I hope you get the happy ending you deserve.”

She reached in for a hug and at first I flinched. I stiffened and flinched like a guy who’d forgotten how it felt to be touched, only loosening up as she breathed in deep.

“Please do get in touch within twenty-four hours,” she said. “I can’t bear the thought of him taking you too.”

“I’ll do my best,” I told her, and slowly pushed her away.

And then I left. Legs wired for action, heart pounding along with it.

I stopped just a beat in the car, just enough to put that memory card in my laptop and scout through the contents until the hideous strength of them drove me fucking onwards.

It was time.

My tyres screeched on the way out of the fucking car park. Destination Preston.Chapter Twenty-SixPaigeI didn’t want this. Not for a second. My emotions were bubbling right through me as Mr Sinister shoved me back on through to that same little dressing room. This time he didn’t stay in with me, just gestured me to the fresh slutty dress-up gear laid out on the table.

“Get ready,” he told me, and slammed the door shut behind me.

I cast the clothes to the floor and sat on the table, my knees pulled up tight to my chest as the tears came calling.

Please no. Please not him. Not now.

Please not the vile people after him, wanting their turn.

Please not any of this.

Another crackling intercom made me jump as it sounded out from the side wall.

“Get ready,” Mr Sin’s voice repeated. “You’d better be waiting when I call for you later.”

Later.

Hopefully I had some time. Enough time that something could stop this. Maybe Brandon’s brother could step in and create some alternative that made even a slight promise of making more interest. Maybe that would be enough to divert Mr Sin from… from raping me.