We get into a room right at the end, and step in, locking the door behind us. There’s a double bed in the middle, and an old sofa, but that’s about it. I turn to Tyke and he’s staring down at me, his eyes studying my face.

“Tell me about this guy.”

“He was a slave too,” I say, walking over and sitting on the bed. “He was my friend—the only person I had. I adored him. He left a while before me and I didn’t know what had happened to him. I asked Maddox to search for him and it turns out he lives here.”

“Maddox helped you?” Tyke says tightly.

I study his face. “Don’t be mad at him, Tyke. It wasn’t his fault. He was helping me because I asked.”

“And you didn’t think to come to me?”

His voice is hard, and I realize I’ve hurt him.

“I’ve upset you. I’m sorry,” I say, staring at my lap.

He sighs and sits beside me. “You want me to understand you, little one, but I don’t know a thing about your past. How am I supposed to move on from the image you’ve created, when you won’t fill me in?”

I turn to him. “I plan on filling you in, Tyke. Just ask what you want to know.”

He pulls me into his arms and we fall back onto the bed. “Just start from the beginning, darlin’. We’ve got all night.”

And so I tell Tyke my story.

From start to finish.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THEN – Pippa

The next ten months go by slowly, but that doesn’t take the memory of Rainer from my mind. I think about him every second, wondering if he’s alive, wondering what happened to him. I’ve been paired up with an old man who doesn’t speak, at all. The days drag and I no longer communicate with anyone. I do my job, I sleep, I eat and then I start all over again. There’s nothing left for me anymore.

If there weren’t slight hope that Santana might still be alive, I’d probably end it.

Today is extra hot, and the sun is sitting on the horizon, threatening to set early even though I know it won’t. My legs are aching from a hard days work, and today I’m chained up to three other people. I don’t know why, I don’t even care. All I can think about is how I’m going to survive the rest of my life in this hellhole. My chest no longer clenches at the thought. I’ve shut down. There are no emotions left in my soul.

The sounds of a gunshot and yelling alert me to the fact that something is happening. I lift my head and realize we’re quite far from the house and at this angle, I can’t see it through the line of trees. There’s shouting and some more shooting. I don’t know what’s happening, but things like this have happened before around here. Artreau is forever in trouble with someone.

I focus back on my work, and the shouting and gunfire become more intense. The older man next to me stops again and mutters, “What’s going on?” It’s the first time I’ve heard him speak, so I turn again and stare back out. There’s a large field to my left and I can see two people running through it. One is a man, the other is a woman. I can’t see them clearly from here, but they’re not slaves. Or maybe they are new slaves and are trying to escape. Good luck to them.

The man, who looks a little like a Native American, turns and shoots his gun a few times in the direction of the house. I watch curiously as the girl, who also has dark hair, turns and stares in our direction. Then suddenly she’s running towards me. Panic seizes my chest and I try to take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go. I don’t want her getting me into trouble; if she’s trying to escape she needs to do it on her own watch.

As she gets closer, her face becomes clearer. My heart starts pounding, and I’m sure I must be seeing things, because that girl looks a whole lot like Santana. I know it’s not her, though. She wouldn’t be able to find me. She’s probably not even alive. I stare anyway, watching as she gets closer and closer. Her eyes meet mine and I know, I know before she rasps my name, that it really is her.

Santana.

My sister.

“T-T-T-T-Tana?”

My knees start to shake as she slams into me, wrapping her arms around my tiny body. “Pippi, oh my God, my Pippi.”

I’m dreaming. It’s a dream.

I start to cry, big, loud, pained sobs.

I stare in shock, tears running down my face as the man appears at her side, still shooting behind him. He growls something at her and she frantically tells him who I am. He aims the gun at my feet and shoots the chains connecting me to the other slaves. Santana takes me and starts pulling me close again. The rest of the slaves start to beg, wanting to be freed to. The Native American man doesn’t give her a choice, and suddenly I’m scooped into his arms and we’re running.

Fear seizes my chest and I scream for my sister.

“It’s okay,” she soothes. “He won’t hurt you.”

This is a dream. It’s all a dream.

Santana isn’t really here, she’s not.

I start to shake.

We reach the fence and I cry out as the man holding me tosses me over. I land hard on the other side, but that doesn’t stop him. He leaps over and then I’m back in his arms and we’re running again. Santana is talking frantically and I struggle to keep up. We reach a big car and before I know what’s happening, I’m thrown in. There’s a man in the front seat and when he turns to look at me, I stop breathing. He’s got the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. He smiles a little, before Santana and the other man jump in.