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Probably nothing good.
But I prefer to think of it as being a hopeless romantic who was able to see good where no one else could, instead of a desperate woman who was brainwashed by her captor.
That makes it easier to think about what comes next.
To plan for beyond tonight.
To hope there will be a future.
The phone Weston gave me buzzes in my pocket, and I release the breath I’ve been holding and pull it out to see the two simple words.
It’s time.
I’ve never been a good actress and always been a shitty liar, yet both are essential for any of this to work.
I have to be perfect.
Play my role while Weston does his without losing his cool.
Because he can’t do it alone. She would never believe him if he simply caved to her request, if he gave in and put up no fight against her when that’s all he’s done for decades.
Pushing away from the window, I head straight for the table and rip the lamp from the electrical plug. The brass sits far heavier in my hand than I imagined it would, and I can see why Weston told me to use it.
It makes a decent weapon, and I need something strong for what I’m going to do. My iron will won’t be enough to get through the lock on that door that keeps me in here.
I move to the solid slabs and swing the lamp as hard as I can at the knob.
Listening to Weston click that lock into place from the outside, shutting me in here earlier tonight, sent me spiraling into the horrible memory of the first time he sealed me into a room.
Of feeling trapped.
Of wondering what The Beast would do to me.
But this time, I will get out. And I will help keep The Beast at bay so Weston and I can do what we set out to when we laid this trap.
The solid metal smashes into its target, but the knob barely moves.
Shit.
It wasn’t like we could test this to ensure it would work. Him locking me in the library has to look real, as does my escape. If it doesn’t, the entire plan goes to shit, and any chance of walking away from tonight unscathed will vanish the same way Weston disappears the bodies of the Barkers’ enemies.
Come on.
Come on.
I slam into the knob again and again, unleashing all the rage I hold for the woman who brought me here into each swing, until finally, the ancient wood issues a groan of protestation. With only a few more strikes, the metal gives way, and I manage to pry the locking mechanism out and open the door.
Thank God.
I step onto the landing and stare down to the main floor foyer. Just as we had planned, the noise has brought Weston and a woman with matching wide gray eyes, who both stare up at me from down there.
Weston locks his gaze with mine, already hard as steel, filled with anger from whatever she’s already said to him. “What are you doing, Beauty?”
His voice carries up the three flights, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin, and the corner of Wendy’s lips tips up.
“It appears Ms. Fox would like to join our conversation.”
Weston spins toward her, towering over his sister, even in her heels, getting up in her face, snarling and ready to rip off her head. “Over my dead body.”
