Lark
Page 18
"You piece of shit. I'm a victim that was pulled into your bullshit operation by your incompetent agent. I want a lawyer. You're not doing jack shit to me without one and a warrant." I turn my fury on the men I'd thought I could trust. "Is Braeden even at home? Did you two consent to an invasive internal exam? Did he get badgered into signing his consent away? How about hopping yourself back up into a lovely exam chair?"
They both pale at my questions, turning to look at their boss. "It's SOP in these cases. She had a lot more interaction and chances at verifying the informants’ story. She was alone with them."
Emmett replies to the AD's explanation. "With all due respect, Assistant Director, what you're requesting her to do isn't standard operating procedure for traumatized victims. I don't know what is going on here, but Lark doesn't know anymore than we've already told you. And you're well aware of her treatment—"
The AD interrupts him, "Agent Lancer, you're excused. No, not another word."
Emmett stalks out of the room. Rex has a frown between his brows but holds his tongue— for once.
"Miss Jones, if you don't consent, we can't do our jobs, and you'll be staying indefinitely. Would you like Agent Baelor to be present? It's not quite protocol, but if it would make you more comfortable, I think we can work something out. What do you say, Agent? You're up for helping a witness, aren't you? One that was victimized when protocol wasn't followed?"
Is this smarmy motherfucker really blackmailing us into doing what he wants? My jaw about hits the floor when Rex gives a sharp nod without even inquiring about my wishes.
"While Rex may be willing— I'm not. I wasn't bluffing when I asked for an attorney. And if Braeden is still here, I'll be requesting one for him as well. We both have emergency power of attorney paperwork filed with his business attorney, and I'm pretty sure this could count as emergent."
The AD loses his cool, and I'm actually scared he's going to hit me. Rex still has some sense because he tries to intervene. Thankfully, he doesn't need to as the intercom comes on.
"Assistant Director Chappel, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have a Mr. Bancroft here with an attorney demanding the release of Miss Lark Jones. He has paperwork from a local judge to support his demands."
I close my eyes in thanks that my ride or die bestie came through. I don't waste any time escaping. I'm still dressed in the gray scrub-like outfit and house shoes I'd been given last night when we arrived—and I don't care a bit. I'm fucking going home.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Going Home
Emmett asks and is granted permission to escort me out. He keeps ahold of my arm the entire way despite my animosity toward him. I pick up the pace, dragging him with me when I spot Braeden waiting on me at the exit.
The person I'm presuming to be the attorney— and I could kiss the man right now— puts a staying arm out to stop Brade from meeting me when the guards next to the metal detector get antsy.
We walk through it moments later, and I'm in Brade's arms instantly. He picks up his head to peer at Emmett over my shoulder.
"Thanks man," he whispers.
"Not a problem, just doing my job." I don't understand, but I don't care. I'm free.
We exit the building, and I look back once, to see Emmett and Rex, side by side, with matching sorrowful countenances. That's all I allow, and then I shut the door on this chapter in my life. I'm sure I'll have to answer questions at some point, but it's not now, and for that I'm grateful.
Arriving home several hours later, I head straight for the shower. Where I break down in uncontrollable sobs. Braeden finds me sometime later once the water has run cold, and I'm shivering and blue.
"Birdie, no." He yanks me out, shutting the water off, wrapping me in a towel, and heading straight for my bed, uncaring about the water trailing from me.
Under the blankets, he strips to his boxers, wrapping me in his body heat. My teeth chattering, I stutter out an apology.
"I'm so sorry, Brade. It's all too much. And I don't know what you had to do to get released. That man is a monster."
"Lark, honey, all I did was give a quick statement that corroborated the other guys, general blood work and a urine test, and let them take a picture of the brand. That's it. I didn't even have to get undressed further than exposing my underwear. They even offered to let me have it done at my own doctor’s office to check if I picked anything up while we were there, which didn't matter to me either way. I don't know what they were after with you. Emmett facilitated my release and told me to get you an attorney immediately."
"Wait, what? Emmett? But he— Oh, no." I feel like an ass after I treated him like shit. "Did Rex—?" I don't know how to finish that.
"No, pretty bird. Just Emmett." It's nice to have someone that can interpret your thoughts when you can't voice them.
"Brade, I think I'm gonna need to talk with someone." He just hugs me tighter.
"I know. I'll be going too. It's already being set up."
I drift off, knowing he'll be there for me, no matter what.
Six Weeks Later
I've gone to several appointments with an FBI approved counselor and had a general, non-invasive work up done with my own medical provider. The doctor cleared me, but the counselor has me taking anti-anxiety meds to keep the panic attacks at bay.
I haven't seen nor heard from Rex or Emmett and have only found out about Marcus and Apollo from what's been on the news. Brade usually shuts it off when he catches me watching it. Thankfully, our address hasn't been leaked to the media yet, and we both can stay home for awhile longer with our savings.
Braeden and I still haven't discussed anything relationship-wise other than we're still as close as ever. Maybe with time, that'll be a topic, but right now I'm just too confused. The meds seem to be helping lessen the panic attacks that were beginning to take over. The official diagnosis: PTSD. No shit, people.
Except I'm not sure how much longer I can take them as I stare at the little stick that is currently rocking my world. Two. Fucking. Pink. Lines.
This isn't happening.
***
I'm trying to keep my shit together when Braeden starts banging on my bedroom door. "Lark!" The panic in his voice prompts me to stash the test in the drawer under the sink and exit my ensuite bathroom.
I find Braeden harried and rushing around my room, throwing clothes in a duffel bag. "Get your toiletries, we have to go. Now, Lark!"
"Brade, calm down and tell me what's happening."
A voice I wasn't sure I'd hear again answers me instead.
"Lark, move your ass. Pops escaped and is out for blood. Grab your stuff and let's go." It's Marcus, using my actual name, with Apollo standing directly behind him.
I give a happy cry and hug first Marcus and then Apollo. "How did you guys get here?" I hadn't realized how worried I've been about them.
"Please, Nightingale, there's no time. We have to hurry. My father could be watching your house, I'll explain on the way." I nod and start to help Braeden.
"Birdie, I got the clothes and shoes, but if you want tampons, you'd better get them now." The reminder causes me to feel faint.
Oh, fuck.
The End...For Now.
About the Author
Emma Cole lives in the mountains in Montana where she brings her imagination to life with words.
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