CREWE'S POINT OF VIEW
The plane was already high in the sky when I began my conversation with Joseph. After landing at the airport, they took my private helicopter and traveled to the Shetland Islands, far north of Scotland, where I owned a residence. It was a subarctic region, cold all year round — but the scenery was breathtaking. I had lived in many places throughout my life, yet the isolated archipelago possessed a picturesque charm I had never found anywhere else.
With such a small population, Scandinavian influences dominated the island. Life moved slower there, echoing the old Scottish way of living. Most of the locals raised Shetland ponies, small horses barely taller than ponies. The grass was always green, and the ocean carried fresh air across the land. Filled with wildlife, the place felt nothing like the bustling cities scattered across the rest of the United Kingdom.
My house had been built centuries ago. I had renovated the interior completely, adding hardwood floors, central heating, and every luxury needed to satisfy my eccentric tastes. Even so, it still looked like a Highland castle. Sometimes it felt more like a fortress than a home.
I sat in the living room with a glass of scotch in my hand while studying reports from my distilleries, where whiskey was produced. I made sure every blend remained perfect and loyal to the flavor my ancestors had created in the fifteenth century.
Ariel walked into the room wearing jeans, high heels, and a thick black sweater. Her brown hair was tied into an elegant bun. She looked gentle on the outside, but inside she was hard. Ruthless, authoritative, and cold, she was an exceptional associate.
"The helicopter is about to land, Crewe."
I set my paperwork on the coffee table, abandoning the smooth scotch sliding down my throat and providing just enough warmth.
"Thank you, Ariel."
I buttoned the front of my suit jacket before adjusting my watch.
"We should welcome our new guest properly, shouldn't we?"
The corner of my mouth lifted into a smile as I imagined Joseph paying for his recklessness until the day he died.
We stepped outside through the back door and crossed the field of hawkweed and chickweed as we approached the helicopter slowly descending onto the flat grass. The estate was located along the coast in an extremely isolated area, so I never worried about curious neighbors discovering my criminal activities. The only way back to mainland Scotland was by boat or helicopter. The servants handled the delivery of all the supplies we needed for daily life.
Ariel walked beside me as we approached the aircraft. It landed gracefully on the grass before shutting down. The blades still spun while the engine cooled. We stood side by side waiting for our guest.
Strands of Ariel's hair flew in the wind created by the rotor before slowly settling back into place. She slipped her hands into her pockets, looking just as intimidating as I was.
Dunbar stepped out from the back of the helicopter and joined us, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.
Ethan emerged carrying a woman in his arms. She was unconscious, her head hanging over his forearm. Her long brown hair drifted in the wind. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, clearly dressed for the humid summer climate of New York.
She was in for a very unpleasant surprise.
Ethan carried her toward me while the rest of the team followed behind him. Dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans, he held London effortlessly.
"She was a little difficult," he said. "I had to sedate her."
He handed her to Dunbar.
I glanced at her, noticing the pale skin of her flawless cheeks. She had a small nose, full lips, and eyelashes that would make her eyes stand out beautifully once open. Petite and delicate, she looked extremely vulnerable.
"She reminds me of a puppy," I murmured. "So innocent."
Ethan laughed.
"That girl is not innocent. She almost stole my gun. And she wouldn't have hesitated to pull the trigger."
The comment immediately sparked my curiosity.
"Maybe she has more in common with Joseph than we thought."
I gestured toward the house with my chin.
"Let's go."
We returned inside and descended into the basement. The place had been designed like a prison, complete with concrete walls and floors. There was a small cot in the corner along with a toilet and sink, but nothing else. No windows existed because the basement had been built deep underground. Only a few lights illuminated the space, leaving the prisoners in near darkness.
Dunbar laid her on the cot and pulled the blanket over her shoulders since she was freezing after the short walk across the field. He brushed her hair away from her face and studied her carefully.
"I can't wait to have her," he muttered. "She's really as beautiful as Ethan said."
He left her on the bed before locking the door, trapping her inside a steel-barred cell like an animal in a cage. She had no privacy in that basement. But now that she was no longer treated as a human being, it didn't matter. She was my revenge for what Joseph had done to me.
I would get the four million dollars I was owed.
Actually, London would give it to me.
Everyone except my butler left for the evening. Ariel and Dunbar took the helicopter back to the mainland where they had lives of their own and spent their free time. I remained in the living room drinking scotch beside the fire, pressing the cool glass against my temple as the beginning of a migraine formed.
I loved the peace and silence this island offered me. Sometimes, while staring out the window at the waves crashing against the cliffs, I felt as though I were alone with the ocean itself. I liked leaving the windows open just to hear the rhythmic sound of the sea. Its constancy calmed me in a strange way. Just as the sun rose and set every day, the waves struck the shore endlessly, never disturbed by mankind. The absolute power nature held over humanity fascinated me deeply.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't crave that kind of power for myself.
Bang.
I stopped breathing the moment I heard it.
Bang. Bang.
I focused on the sound, trying to determine where it came from. The wind often screamed during harsh nights, even when no storms approached. I placed my scotch on the table and rose to my feet, mentally noting where every weapon in the house was stored.
Bang.
My eyes shifted downward as I realized exactly where the noise was coming from.
The basement.
My guest was awake.
I walked to the basement door wearing only jeans and a t-shirt now that everyone else had gone. After opening it, I glanced down the stairs and spotted London. She stood on one leg while kicking the bars with all her strength, trying to force them open. But she was so weak the steel barely trembled. Then she aimed at the hinges, though that accomplished nothing either. Too consumed by her desperate escape attempt, she didn't notice my footsteps descending the stairs.
"The only thing you're going to break is your knee."
At the sound of my voice, she stepped back, sweat covering her forehead while her hair fell wildly around her face. Her hands remained raised defensively, ready to fight off any attack.
I approached the cell door and studied her, noticing the way her jeans hugged her curved hips and slim legs. The V-neck of her gray t-shirt pointed toward her narrow waist, emphasizing her natural hourglass figure. She was certainly beautiful, but she didn't affect me the way the others claimed she would.
To me, she was just another stranger.
"Those bars are made of steel, in case you hadn't noticed. And we're surrounded by ocean on an island, so if you break a bone, nobody's going to treat you. I only have aspirin."
I stood before the bars with my arms crossed as I observed her.
Despite her terrible situation, she didn't seem frightened. She only looked serious — calculating. Her mind was already racing, searching for a solution instead of surrendering to panic.
"It's time for introductions. I'm Crewe — and you belong to me."
As if I had slapped her, her eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare.
"What did you just say?"
She marched closer without the slightest hesitation. If I slipped my arms through the bars, I could easily wrap my hand around her throat.
"I don't give a damn who you are. I don't belong to you. I belong to nobody."
She pointed aggressively at her chest as she spoke, emphasizing every word.
I liked the fire inside her. She had far more courage than her cowardly brother.
"You'll change your mind eventually."
I stepped closer to the bars, studying her more carefully. She had a beautiful mouth, wide with soft lips. I suddenly wanted to run my finger across her lower lip, though not to kiss her. I simply wanted to touch her, the same way someone pets a dangerous animal.
"I'm getting out of here," she snapped. "And when I do, I'm going to rip your eyes out and shove them up your ass."
The threat was so unexpected that I burst out laughing.
TO BE CONTINUED....
In your opinion, will London's brother try to save her… or has he already abandoned her? 😩💔