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“I’m sorry, lovie, you know Lorcan wouldn’t—”
“Please,” I say, clasping my hands together. I’m one more “no” away from falling to my knees and praying to her like she’s God. “Please justaskhim. Tell him I’m losing my goddamn mind in here.”
Those brows knit into concern again. “Fine,” she eventually mutters, “I’llask.But I’m not making any promises. You’ve seen firsthand how stubborn he can be.”
She disappears out of the room, locking it behind her, of course. I press my ear to the door, and I can hear her somewhere else in the building, having a one-way conversation in muffled tones.
I’m holding my breath when she comes back into the room, slipping her cell back into the pocket of her apron. “He says only if you eat.”
“Deal,” I say, not caring about the rest of the sentence lingering on her lips.
“And only for one hour, limited to the south gardens, and you have to have a chaperone.”
I groan, my eyes darting to the window at the beastly-looking men that patrol the perimeters of the gardens. Whatever the weather, they are always in all-black, with rifles slung across their beefy chests. “Fine. I’ll take it.”
I don’t care about my protest right now. My desperate need to get out of this gilded cage is two-fold. First, I’ll simply crawl up the walls if I have to spend another day locked in here. Second, I’m not going to find an escape route staring at the locked door for eighteen hours a day. I need to get on the ground, figure out where I am and how the hell I can get out of here.
“I’ll take your brunch outside,” Orna smiles, picking up the tray. “You can have it on the terrace.”
She steps aside to let me pass through the bedroom door. And it’s in that moment I realize the lock and key on this room means nothing. Her easy smile reminds me of the night I slashed Lorcan’s face and tried to escape. The sound of his lazy footsteps coming to get me. Like him, she isn’t worried about me trying to escape, because she knows that even if I get out of this door, there’ll be at least one more standing between me and freedom.
“After you,” she practically sings. The one and only time I’ve been out of this room (conscious, at least), it was pitch black. With the daylight streaming through the large window at the end of the hall, I can finally see what’s on the other side of the Museum. And the answer to that is nothing. A simple corridor lined with plush, white carpets and closed doors on either side. At the end is the staircase, leading down to the bottom floor. I take in every inch of the corridor as I walk down it, running my hands over the smooth oak banister, eyeing up every lock and knob on every door as I pass. The bottom floor leads to a spacious entrance hall, as plain as the floor above. It’s when I see the main door that my heart sinks.
“Retina recognition,” Orna says, coming up behind me. “Plus, a password that changes every goddamn time you try to leave.”
I stare at the steel contraption in front of me. Any trace of hope seeps from my body like a slow, painful bleed. It wouldn’t look out of place in a Bond villain’s lair.
“The password changes? Then how do you know the answer?”
Orna eyes me suspiciously for a split second, before deciding it’s safe to answer. “It’s always a question that only a Quinn would know. Orshouldknow,” she laughs. “I’ve had to call Lorcan a few times to come and get me out of here when I can’t remember his mother’s birthday.”
I’m suddenly shocked at the thought of Lorcan having a mom. I knew his father was dead, but where his mom is never crossed my mind. I immediately picture a beautiful yet cruel woman, with the same piercing amber eyes that every Quinn has. “Does she live here?”
Orna flashes me an apologetic glance. “No, Nancy died years ago,” she says softly, passing me the tray of croissants and heading to the iPad-size screen next to the door. I watch as a laser scans over her eye. “I was too young to remember her, and Lorcan was only around five.” After a pause, she adds, “Cancer.”
I take in this small slither of information as she taps away on the on-screen keyboard. I hate the pang of sadness that shoots through my growling stomach. I know how it feels to mourn someone that is such a large part of you, but you don’t even remember meeting. It’s a strange, empty void that is impossible to fill.
“I’m so sorry,” I find myself muttering. But my feeble words are lost in the hiss of the door’s hydraulics coming to life. It heaves open, revealing a wide stretch of grass and sunshine.
The fresh air hits me immediately, filled with freshly cut grass and the warmth from the sun. “Oh my god, thank you,” I murmur, closing my eyes and turning my face up to the sun. It’s crazy what we take for granted until it’s snatched away from you.
“Let’s get you fed,” Orna says, nodding to the patio area to the side of the house. While she sets down the tray, I step away from the house and look back up at it, taking in the exterior of my cage.
It’s pretty, yet shockingly ordinary. Like the simple, white corridors and looming steel door, it doesn’t match the gaudy aesthetic of the bedroom I’ve been locked in.
I sink into the swinging love seat under the veranda, wolfing down three croissants while Orna makes small talk. I’m only half-listening; most of my attention is on the beautiful, buttery taste of food, and the other is scanning my surroundings for any sign of an escape route. But from the patio I can’t see much, it’s the same view from the bedroom but from a slightly different angle. Long stretches of perfectly manicured grass that meets towering hedge walls somewhere in the distance.
“Need anything else to eat?” Orna brings me back with a question. “You must be literally starving.”
“No, no,” I say, dusting the crumbs away from my mouth. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to stretch my legs.”
“Sure. Let me find you a chaperone. I’d love to come with you, but I have way too much work to do, I’m afraid.”
She steps out from under the shade, looking to the left of the building. She waves, presumably at someone, and then beckons them over. “Cillian will give you a tour of the grounds,” she says, smiling at someone that hasn’t come into view yet. “He actually works in the gardens in his spare time too. Don’t try to outsmart him with rose varieties, you’ll definitely lose.”
She turns back to me, a satisfied smile on her face. “Enjoy yourself, Poppy. I’ll be back in about an hour, okay?”
I nod, rising to my feet. “Thanks, Orna. I really appreciate—”
