Page 47 of Caging Liberty
“He killed his last one.”
My eyes would widen if my face hadn’t turned to stone. My lungs constrict as I turn toward the ocean, staring out at one of the most serene views from one of the most disturbing places.
Whatever hope I had of using Mr. A as a shield falls apart and slips between my fingers.
“Believe it or not, the masters have rules too. And not killing slaves is one of them. Even Mr. A isn’t immune to that one.”
“When did this happen?” I ask weakly, afraid to know the details.
“A few years ago.”
I pull my knees up and press my forehead against them, closing my eyes and smelling lavender lotion.
“Don’t worry.” She pats my back. “Sawyer won’t let him seriously harm you. You should stay away from him, though. You know … just in case.”
I laugh dryly and shake my head. “Mr. A is the only thing stopping Sawyer from killing me right now.”
Oh, the irony.
“What?” she asks, genuine confusion in her tone.
I lift my head and squeeze my eyes with a blink to ease the burn coming on. “Sawyer told me this morning he’s going to kill me as soon as Mr. A loses interest in me.”
“Oh my god…” She faces forward, her eyes darting around as she thinks.
“I have to get off this island.” I say the words out loud even though I meant to say them to myself.
“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice just as quiet. She turns to me and grabs my arm like she just had an epiphany. “I can help.”
My eyes go wide. “What?”
“Get up.” She raises to her feet, dragging me with her. Swiping her shoes off the sand, she walks quickly down the beach, so I grab my shoes and hurry to keep up. My ears heat, and I look around like someone can read my thoughts, but there’s no one in sight.
We walk several minutes before Desiree stops and plops to the ground. She pats the sand beside her, and I sit.
“There,” she says, craning her neck toward a hill behind us. “Through the trees, there’s a building. Don’t look too obvious.”
She faces the ocean and raises her chin like she’s sunbathing. I don’t know who’s benefit it’s for, but I follow her lead, then as inconspicuously as I can, I turn and search for the building she’s talking about. I can just barely see the top of a structure poking over the treetops.
“That’s enough,” she says.
I face the ocean again.
“That’s the crematorium. It’s where they, well … you know, with dead bodies.”
My heart gallops. “I thought you said they weren’t allowed to kill slaves.”
She raises a shoulder. “Shit happens. Sawyer can do whatever he wants. It’s the island inhabitants who have to follow his rules, but I know they still get passes in the right circumstances. I mean, you notice Mr. A wasn’t kicked off the island or anything.”
I take a sharp breath.
“No cell phones are allowed on the manor premises, and it would be a waste of effort to go for the one phone there is since it’s located in Sawyer’s office. It’s monitored more carefully than the Mona Lisa. You have to go off the property to get your hands on one, and I think there’s an office phone in the crematorium.”
I force myself not to look at the crematorium again, my blood pressure spiking. The hope I watched slip through my fingers is suddenly shoved into my face, begging me to grab it. And to think, an hour ago my plan was to be a good girl. Forget that.
I can do this.
I can fucking do this.