by Sofia Daniel
On the following Saturday, Mr. McGarr drove a group of us to Glasgow City Chambers, a palatial, old building in the city center.
It stood three stories tall with a tower that stretched nearly double the height of the main structure. White spotlights illuminated its exterior, making it appear green under the glare of the moon.
Miss Martin stood. “Ladies, I want you all on your best behavior. Schools from all over the region will display their creations in front of important, high-society guests. Think of this as practice for London Fashion Week.”
Butterflies writhed in my stomach, and I turned to Maeve, who leaned forward in her seat and hyperventilated.
I gave her a pat on the back. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll just walk down a runway, display our dresses, and go home.”
Maeve ran trembling fingers through her red hair. “It’s the standing around and being auctioned that makes me feel sick.”
Grimacing, I tried not to think about that part. Instead, I focused on commiserating my loss in the Glaswegian Hotel restaurant with Kendrick over the intense level of competition at the fashion show.
We stepped out into the winter evening, and I pulled up the hood of the coat I had tailored. Its hemline skimmed my ankles, not letting in a single gust of cold. Beside me, Maeve shivered in her blue woolen jacket. After collecting suitcases filled with our garments, we made our way to the building.
As we passed through the doors and took in the marble interior, my heart galloped in my chest.
If I thought the City Chambers were palatial on the outside, it was nothing compared to the inside. Miss Martin rushed us through hallways that consisted of arches. Arched ceilings, arched columns, even the sculptures holding the chandelier lights were arched.
We hurried into a large, noisy room, separated by screens, where each school prepared for the auction and fashion show. She directed us to get changed.
“The Edinburgh School of Fashion is here,” whispered Maeve. “And the Glasgow College of Art. They’re both university level—”
“Don’t worry about it.” I pulled off my clothes and shouldered on my tuxedo dress. “Everyone will know we’re younger and less experienced.”
Maeve continued her nervous chatter, and I tried to drown her out. Even though Miss Martin had first introduced our attendance here as a competition, it was to stop Elizabeth from her deranged rampage. I was going to treat this as a practice event for bigger and better things.
“Templar Academy?” said an old lady with a steel-gray bouffant. “Follow me to the banqueting room. You’re to circle the stage, walk down the steps, and sashay down the aisle, so everyone gets a chance to see your creations.”
My stomach dropped. I’d pictured us walking across a stage and stepping forward for an auction, but this was going to be like London Fashion Week. Except we were both the designers and models.
Maeve groaned. “I’m going to die.”
“Naomi Campbell once fell on her ass, and it only gave her good publicity,” I said without feeling an ounce of the confidence in my words.
We followed the old lady through the hallway and into a vast room the size of an Olympic swimming pool. Ornate columns adorned the wall, stretching out to arched ceilings that looked plated in gold.
Music boomed out of tall speakers. About a thousand people sat on either side of a wide aisle, where young men and women paraded themselves in fashions that looked more professional than anything we had produced.
“Why is it so crowded?” I snarled.
“Parents, reporters, fashionistas.” Maeve gulped. “Not to mention Chief Constable of Police Scotland, the First Minister of Scotland, and the Archbishop of Scotland.”
“Bloody hell,” I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. Miss Martin had made it sound like a small community event with a bunch of old ladies sipping tea.
When I opened them, I stared at the back of the most gorgeous wedding dress I had ever seen. Diamonds formed an intricate pattern of swirls over fabric so transparent, it looked like someone had stuck them on the model’s back.
The skirt consisted of heavy silk that flared out to the ground. As the model moved, the fabric shimmered, highlighting the continuation of the pattern on the bodice.
“This must be the Edinburgh School of Fashion,” I whispered to Maeve.
The model turned around, revealing a face I needed to punch. With a smirk, Elizabeth swept her gaze down my tailored dress. “Is that all you could cobble together? Don’t worry, Hand-Cock. I’ll permit you to hold my train when you lose!”
My gaze swept down the front of Elizabeth’s wedding dress, where the diamanté swirls continued over her shoulder and down a fitted bodice with a sweetheart neckline. It was one of those dresses that was so intricate, the bride only needed the barest of makeup to avoid looking overdone.
“That’s a gorgeous gown,” I drawled. “Where did you buy it, Vera Wang?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I’ll have you know I slaved in front of a sewing machine for weeks.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Where did you get the pattern?”
“Vogue.”
“What’s it called?”
Her face screwed up. “Mind your own business!”
I snorted. “Not even a team of seamstresses could conjure up a dress like that from scratch in such a short space of time.”
Elizabeth stuck her nose in the air. “Don’t judge me by your pitiful standards.”
“Says the girl who jumped on a table and threw a box of pins at the teacher.”
Before Elizabeth could bend reality with another of her lies, the students before us had finished parading themselves to the audience, and the old woman ushered us forward.
Elizabeth sashayed down the stage like she had absorbed every episode of America’s Top Model. It was a pity she was five-five like me. Otherwise, she might have had a career on the runway.
The entire banqueting hall filled with gasps at her creation. Photographers flashed their cameras in concentrated bursts of lightning, and they shouted for her to turn in their direction.
I couldn’t blame them. That wedding gown was sublime, but it wasn’t the work of a high school student.
“What the hell does she think she’s doing?” snarled Maeve.
“Don’t know, don’t care.” At least Elizabeth’s appearance had calmed our nerves. I walked out onto the stage and followed the deranged girl’s loop.
As I descended the stairs after Elizabeth, I caught sight of a dark-haired woman standing at the front, her face whiter than the wedding dress. It was Lady Liddell, and she was livid.
Next to her stood a gray-haired man in a modest black suit, clerical collar, and a large, silver cross. I could only assume this was Lord Liddell, the Archbishop of Scotland. His face had slackened with shock, and he couldn’t stop shaking his head.
I turned back to glare at Elizabeth’s beautifully adorned back. From her parents’ horrified expressions, she had stolen her mother’s wedding dress and passed it off as her own work. In public. And in front of a fuckload of reporters.
If she hadn’t been such a vindictive cow, I might have felt sorry for the amount of trouble she’d caused for herself.
We continued down the aisle-cum-runway, which stretched down to the end of the room. Gideon, Lachlan, and Francesco stood on the right, giving me a standing ovation.
“Lilah!” shouted Lachlan. “You look fantastic!”
My heart filled with gratitude, and I beamed at my friends.
A few rows down, Kendrick stood.
Elizabeth stopped abruptly.
I made my feet grind to a halt, narrowly avoiding her train, but Maeve bumped into my back.
Elizabeth turned around, her pale eyes bright. “Look over my shoulder.” She flicked her head to the right and back of the banquet hall. “You’re welcome.”
As Elizabeth picked up her train and sprinted away, I turned my gaze to the direction she had indicated. My eyes locked onto Kendrick�
��s, who sat with Orlando and Maxwell, but I didn’t think she wanted me to see them.
“Why aren’t you walking?” shouted Maeve.
I looked at the back of the banquet hall. On the final row sat Sammy, Nichelle, and Billy Fucking Hancock. Each of them looked like they wanted to skin me alive.
Chapter 25
Every ounce of blood drained from my face, and I swayed on my feet, fighting the urge to vomit.
I would have asked how they had found me. Mother wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to arrange for Mr. Burgh to hide me from her violent, jailbird husband only to tell him my location. And I couldn’t see either Sammy or Billy Hancock getting the information out of Ms. Reddy from social services.
No, there was a reason why they knew I was in Scotland, and why they knew to find me in Glasgow, in the Glasgow City Chambers, and on this precise date.
That wretched Elizabeth Liddell had known all along about Sammy. She had called him a pedophile because someone had told her I’d moved in with him when I was nearly fifteen. But I never would have guessed she would tell him where to find me to exact his revenge.
The bloody bitch.
Sammy looked gaunt, as though his time in hospital had robbed him of half his vitality. That or the stab wound.
I clenched my jaws. Why wasn’t he in prison or on remand? Had he told the police I had been the cannabis grower?
His gaze swept down my body, and he bared his teeth in the kind of growl that meant he wanted to eat me alive. This time, I didn’t think it was going to be in the way I used to enjoy.
I let my gaze skip over Nichelle, who was more than welcome to Sammy, and focused on the man who had terrorized my childhood.
Prison had honed Billy Hancock into something harder than he had been when I’d arranged his arrest. Gone were the round cheekbones and bulky frame, replaced by cheeks sunken in like bodybuilders, along with the hard, muscled body of a man trained to kill with his bare hands.
A shudder ran down my spine. I was beyond screwed.
“Lilah,” hissed Maeve. “You’re blocking the line.”
Her words were the jolt in the heart that got me moving again. I spun on my heel and power-walked back to the stage.
If the First Minister of Scotland was here and the Chief Constable of Police Scotland, it guaranteed the existence of an army of plain-clothed police officers in the banqueting room to protect them. Jimmy and Sammy had to know this, which was why no one had dragged me off by the hair.
Yet.
The rush through the changing rooms was a blur. I lost sight of Elizabeth and her stolen wedding dress. The rancid cow had probably disappeared so I couldn’t get myself a police escort out of the building by being arrested for beating her to death.
I threw off my dress, pulled back my hair, and threw on a pair of jeans I’d bought on a Glasgow weekend, a pullover, boots, and my winter coat.
“What’s wrong?” asked Maeve.
My trembling hands rifled through the contents of my case. I shoved aside the sheath dress I planned on wearing to the Glaswegian Hotel restaurant, placed my mobile in my pocket, while my mind scrambled to determine a way out.
Billy Hancock would have placed men on all the exits. There was no way I would leave the building without getting snatched. A shudder ran down my spine at the thought of the single threat Billy made to me if I ever misbehaved.
He wouldn’t stab me. Wouldn’t shoot me. Wouldn’t kill me with his bare hands.
He would feed me to his dogs.
“Get out,” screeched the voice of an old woman. “No members of the public allowed.”
Adrenaline lanced through my heart and exploded into sparks of cold panic. “Shit.”
“Lilah?” Maeve whined.
I turned around, grabbed her by the shoulders, and gave her a hard shake. “Stop calling out my name. I’m in deep shit.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth clicked shut.
I said, “If anyone asks where I’ve gone, tell them I went to the ladies’ room. Alright?”
She nodded dumbly, and I stepped through the gap in the curtains that separated the Templar Academy changing space from that of the other schools.
Fortunately, the students had gone, presumably to parade their creations, and I rushed through the changing booths.
As I had hoped, I found a door at the other end of the room. I turned it, stepped out into the empty hallway, and broke into a sprint.
A large hand closed around my arm, making me gasp. I spun around, fist balled, and swung at my captor.
Kendrick snatched my wrist out of the air. “What on earth is wrong with you?”
“My stepfather’s here.”
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, making the hairs on the back of my head stand on end. I glanced left, then right. A girl about my age in a bottle-green school uniform hurried toward us, clutching torn fabric to her chest.
“The drug dealer?” Kendrick whispered.
With a gulp, I gave him a sharp nod.
“Is that going to cause a problem?”
“He thinks I told the police about a large shipment of cocaine.” I pulled my arms out of his grip and hurried past the crying schoolgirl.
Up ahead was a wooden door with a stained-glass window. Behind it stood a bulky figure. As he turned his head, I edged against the wall, trying to keep out of sight.
“Did you?” Kendrick shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Is he going to hurt you?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
He grabbed my hand. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“You can hide in the limo.”
“He’ll have men watching the exits. They will snatch me on sight.”
Kendrick closed his eyes, seeming to be deep thought. “I’ll bet he only knows about the official exits.”
“He’s working with Elizabeth. She probably gave him a bloody map.”
A pair of men wearing the white shirts and black bow ties walked toward us carrying trays of empty champagne glasses. Kendrick leaned into my side and said, “A girl like Elizabeth won’t have thought about the service routes. Let’s see where these fellows go.”
We stood against the wall, our hands intertwined, waiting for the staff to pass. The two men chatted among themselves in thick Scottish accents and using slang I had no patience to decipher.
As soon as they passed, I stepped forward to follow them, but Kendrick held me back. The men continued down the hallway and turned a corner.
“Now, let’s go,” he whispered.
Even though I wore my winter coat with the hood up, a sense of intense paranoia seized my chest and reduced my lung capacity by half. Shallow breaths rasped from my throat as we followed the men around the corner and toward a massive, wooden door that said, STAFF ONLY.
“You’re taking us out through the kitchens?” I whispered. “How do you know there’s a way out?”
“I’m not even sure there’s a kitchen, but there’ll be a delivery bay of some sort.”
We walked down the stairs, and a wave of gratitude engulfed my heart. Even if this didn’t work, and Billy Hancock’s men grabbed me, I would remember Kendrick’s steadfast personality and the way he stayed at my side even after I insulted his twin and spat that I would never trust him.
He squeezed my hand and gave me a tight smile. I forced a smile back. Poor Kendrick had probably never dealt with gangsters in his life, yet here he was, helping me escape. Most guys in Richley would leave me to my fate, fearing the consequences for their family.
At the bottom of the stairs stood another wooden door. He pushed it open, revealing a hallway with a fire exit.
As we stepped through, I released his hand. “Thanks for taking me this far, but I’ll do the rest on my own.”
“Why?”
“They only want to capture me for now. If they catch you helping me, there’s no telling how badly they’ll hurt you.”
Kendrick scowled. “I won’t let a
gang of cheap thugs stop me from taking you somewhere safe.”
“Don’t do this.” I placed both hands on his biceps and stared into his gray eyes, silently pleading for him not to be so stupidly brave.
“I’d never forgive myself if I let you go off on your own.” He cupped my cheek. “Besides, you’ve grown on me these past few weeks. I want to make sure you return to the academy after the Christmas break so I can prove I’m nothing like my brother.”
A lump formed in my throat. “Ken—”
“No more arguments. If you leave without me, I’ll just follow and make a nuisance of myself.”
We continued down the hallway, passed the kitchen, and pulled down the lever of the fire exit. A blast of cold air blew into our faces, accompanied by the distant roar of traffic.
Lowering my head, I strode into a walled courtyard large enough to hold two large vans. It was empty and illuminated by a single spotlight. At the end stood a gate, which had been left open.
“Do you know where we are?” I whispered.
“The Glasgow Herald offices are through that gate and around the corner.” He placed an arm around my back. “We can grab a taxi from there, and you can stay low until we leave the city center.”
Swallowing hard, I said, “Alright.”
I walked a pace behind Kendrick toward the gate, hoping that he was right that Billy Hancock’s boys would only guard the main exits. My heart drummed a rapid beat that resounded through my ribcage.
What a bloody mess. Two sets of criminals gunning for me because of the actions of a jealous and mentally unstable cow.
Even if I lived to be a hundred, I would never understand why Elizabeth was so possessive of boys she didn’t even want to kiss.
About six paces before we reached the exit, smoke curled out from the gateway.
A palpitation seized my heart. I halted to a stop and squeezed Kendrick’s hand. “Someone’s out there.”
“An employee having a break?” he whispered.
Inhaling the sweet scent of weed, I grimaced. “Probably one of Sammy’s boys.”
