The heavy, armored door of the SUV slammed shut.
The thick glass and steel instantly cut off the sounds outside. Inside the cabin, it was dead silent. The only sound was the soft, steady hum of the climate control system.
Clare sat in the middle of the wide, leather backseat. She kept her knees pressed tightly together. Her shoulders were stiff. Her brain knew she was safe, but her body was still waiting for the next blow to fall.
Genevieve sat close beside her. She had her arm wrapped tightly around Clare's shoulders. Silent tears continued to track down her perfect makeup.
Silas sat in the rear-facing seat opposite them. His eyes never left Clare's face. He looked like a man who had just found water after years in the desert.
Suddenly, a loud, rumbling growl echoed in the quiet cabin.
It came from Clare's stomach.
Clare gasped. She immediately slapped both hands over her stomach and ducked her head. Her heart rate spiked. In the Pruitt house, showing hunger had always come with consequences.
Genevieve quickly wiped her eyes. She reached into the small, built-in refrigerator console between the seats. She pulled out a small, silver tray. On it were delicate, crustless sandwiches filled with turkey and cheese.
She held the tray out to Clare.
Clare stared at the fresh, soft bread. Her mouth watered instantly, but she didn't reach for it. She looked up at Silas, her eyes wide and questioning. She was waiting for permission.
Silas's chest hitched. He forced a gentle smile. "Eat, Clare. It's yours. Everything we have is yours now. You never have to wait for permission again."
Clare's hands shook as she reached out. She grabbed a sandwich and ate quickly, hungrily. She grabbed another before she had finished the first.
She ate too fast. The dry bread caught in her throat. She started to cough.
Genevieve quickly grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and held it to Clare's lips. She rubbed Clare's back in slow, soothing circles. "Slow down, baby. Take a breath. There's plenty more."
Clare drank the water, clearing her throat. She looked at the remaining sandwiches, forcing herself to slow down.
"What did they feed you?" Silas asked. His voice was quiet, but the muscles in his jaw were jumping.
Clare swallowed. She looked at the soft leather seats. "Bread," she said flatly. "But it was stale. And sometimes very little else."
Silas closed his eyes. He gripped the armrest of his seat so hard the leather creaked.
Genevieve covered her mouth, letting out a muffled sob.
"Thirsty," Clare whispered, her voice completely monotone. She pointed to her lips. They were chapped and cracked. The one word, spoken so matter-of-factly, was more devastating than any accusation.
Silas opened his eyes. They were bright with unshed tears and fury held carefully in check.
Clare pulled the oversized coat tighter around herself. "He made me wake up when it was still dark. I had to chop the wood and feed the animals. If I was slow, he used the leather strap."
She pointed to the dark, ugly bruises on her collarbone. "He said I was a waste of space."
She spoke about the hardship as if she were reciting a grocery list. The emotional detachment was a classic trauma response. It terrified her parents more than if she had been screaming and crying.
Genevieve couldn't take it anymore. She pulled Clare into her lap, burying her face in Clare's dirty hair. "I'm so sorry," she wept. "I'm so sorry we didn't find you sooner."
Silas leaned forward. He placed his large, warm hand over Clare's small, cold ones.
"I swear to you, Clare," Silas said, his voice trembling with the weight of his promise. "We will make sure justice is done. The law will hold those people accountable. And no one — no one — will ever hurt you again. You are home now. You are ours, and we are yours."
Clare leaned her head against Genevieve's chest. She listened to the steady, rapid beat of her mother's heart. The coldness inside her finally began to melt.
"I believe you," Clare whispered.
The SUV sped down the winding mountain road, leaving the compound far behind. They were heading straight for the Barrett family's private medical center in the city.
