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Looking at Ben, Ily whispered, “Are you willing to help?”
“Of course. That’s why we’re here. We know you won’t trust us, but you need more Masters. And…” Ben shrugged. “We don’t just come on our own.”
“What do you mean?” I narrowed my eyes.
“We’re friendly with three guards.”
“What? How?”
Stewart winced. “I’m a smoker, you see. I loiter outside a lot, and when you loiter around guards, you inevitably start talking shit. ‘What’s it like working here? Do they enjoy their job?’ That kinda thing.” He sighed. “Turns out, they’re as much a prisoner as all the rest.”
“What are you saying?” I went deathly fucking still.
“They’re housed in barracks down Victor’s long driveway by his helipad. They have their own jewels that are kept separate. They also have care packages flown in. They have luxuries and are treated well but they can’t go online. They can’t visit family. The day they signed their contracts, Victor flew them here and refuses to let them leave. He keeps them obedient by reminding them that it’s better to be the one holding the gun than the one wearing the collar. Each one is mostly a millionaire with how much Vic pays them, but what good is money if you can’t spend it?”
“Why haven’t they revolted before now?”
“They haven’t dared. Money is far better than rape. But…a lot of them are sick of it. They came as young men who were only thinking about pussy and money, but they’re older now and wanting more.”
“You’re saying they’d be open to a coup?”
“The three I’m friendly with just want off this fucking island. So yes. If they could be assured we’d win, they’ll start hiding weapons around the place. There’s an armoury attached to the barracks. They have access to ammunition and a stack of other shit that would ensure success. Hopefully.”
My heart pounded.
I hated that the longer we talked, the more I wanted to believe them.
The more I needed to believe.
I hadn’t wanted to voice my fears, but the closer we crept toward December, the worse my panic grew. For all our plans, it would most likely be suicide.
The jewels were powerless. The cleaning staff mostly useless. The gardeners only less so with their spades and rakes. Even the knives that the kitchen staff gave us only worked if a Master didn’t electrify a jewel before they got close enough to stab.
We need guns.
We needed lots and lots of guns.
And these two bastards are offering them to us...
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I did my best to find that calm centre. I grounded myself. Sucked in a cleansing breath. Willed myself to spot any lies or traps.
Victor could’ve put them up to this.
He might be waiting to entrap me.
But…
What if their offer was real?
What if we had an actual fighting chance at doing this?
Ily broke through my thoughts, whispering to the girls, “Do you swear on the lives of every jewel in here that this is real? That you trust your Masters like I trust mine?”
Abby and Pen looked at each other and nodded. “We swear. You can trust them.”
“In that case…” Looking at me, she shrugged. “Your call.”
I studied the two couples.
