“Well, then maybe it is better that Maggie is already so quiet and obedient,” I assure the both us. “Besides, she’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’ll figure out their game and do whatever she has to do to survive.”
What I don’t say, what I’m really thinking, is that it will be unnecessary to try and break her because she’s already broken. She was inconsolable when we were trapped in that cell together, already falling apart beyond repair. Maggie was too afraid to even utter a coherent word, much less defy anything they asked of her.
“She will be alright,” Max says assuredly. “I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah,” I say to myself softly, my eyes feeling heavy. I am exhausted, and before long I manage to drift off to a fitful sleep.
When I wake, I’m being carried over the threshold into a little white Tudor-style cottage with brown trim and shutters. As my vision clears I realize that the sun is setting, and that we’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense green forest. This looks like a picturesque fairy-tale illustration, like we stepped right out of reality and into a children’s book. But it’s real — from the Spartan furnishings to the unmistakable, ominous call of an owl somewhere in the woods.
It’s terribly quiet here except for the sounds of birds and the trees bowing in the wind. There can’t be another soul out here for miles. Just the two of us. Alone.
Max takes me into a tiny bedroom and lays me down softly on the small wooden bed. The sheets are clean, to my surprise, and I wonder who Max has been paying to come all the way out here to maintain this place. I’m sure some lucky maid is making a fortune from it.
Thinking I’m still asleep, Max heads back out into the main room to make a few calls. He speaks in hushed tones, one call in French, another in Russian. I can’t make out a word of what’s being said, only that the news he receives can’t be good. He groans in frustration and I hear him lean against a wall heavily, defeated. I can’t keep up my charade any longer. I have to go to him.
I slide off the bed, careful not to mess up the crisp white sheets, and walk into the other room cautiously. Max is standing with his eyes closed and his arms folded over his chest. He looks like a tragic hero, a romantic prince thwarted by the villain one too many times. I want nothing more than to rush to him and melt into his arms, reassure him. There’s something about this place, so far from the bustling Parisian streets, like another world altogether. One inhabited by only two: Max and me.
“What happened?” I ask timidly. Max’s eyes flutter open and he looks over at me.
“My connections are tied at the moment. We have to wait for more information before we move on. We’ll have to stay here for at least the night,” he admits grimly.
I’m a little disappointed, but I know that we won’t save Maggie by rushing anything. We need to be cautious, even more so now, and I nod at him gently.
“It’s okay. We’ll take the time to do things right.”
He runs a large hand back through his dark hair and sighs. “It isn’t fair to you, Liv. I will stand guard tonight while you sleep.”
“No, that’s silly,” I disagree, shaking my head. “You need to rest, too.”
“I promise I will get some rest in here. On the floor.”
“Why would you do that? There’s a perfectly good bed in there,” I tell him, confused as to why he’s acting so cagey all of a sudden.
“That’s where you will sleep,” he replies.
“Right. And you, too.”
Max stares at me, his expression conflicted. “We can’t do that again, Liv,” he says softly.
I take a step closer, frowning. “Why not?”
“As I said, it isn’t fair. It isn’t right.”
“I’m not complaining,” I tell him firmly. “Unless you… unless you just don’t want to.”
He looks physically pained by the assumption. “No,” he responds quickly.
“Then why not, Max? We’ve shared a bed already. I’ve seen you — all of you. It doesn’t matter anymore how we got here.” My words aren’t planned, they just tumble out, raw and unfinished, the unbridled truth. His blazing eyes search my face desperately, though I don’t know what he’s looking for. He turns to face me, reaching out hesitantly to take my hands.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to me.
I cock my head to the side. “Because I know you. Felix told me everything, Max. I have no reason to fear you.”
Max moves closer, the internal struggle evident on his face. “It was much easier for me when you did,” he whispers.