Chapter 186
[ 489 words ]
Chapter 186:
Bell shook his head. “Negative. The Colonel initiated Code Black. You are confined to the perimeter of this building.”
Caroline dropped the duffel bag onto the hardwood floor. She walked right up to the towering mercenary. She tilted her head back, her gray eyes burning with a fierce, desperate anger.
“I am not a prisoner of war, Bell,” Caroline hissed. “I am going to my childhood home. It is in a quiet suburb. If you want to follow me, fine. You can sit in your armored truck in their driveway all night. But I am walking out that door.”
Bell stared down at her. He calculated the tactical situation. The Thompson residence was a known, secure location. It was within the operational grid. Forcing her to stay would require physical restraint, which violated his primary directive not to harm her.
Bell stepped aside. “I will prep the transport.”
у𝗈𝘂r 𝖽a𝗶𝗅𝘺 𝖽о𝗌𝘦 𝗈𝘧 𝘯𝗼𝗏еl𝗌 𝗼ո 𝗴a𝘭𝗻ov𝖾𝗅𝘀.𝗰𝗼𝗆
Forty minutes later, the heavy, black armored SUV rolled to a stop on the quiet, tree-lined street in Alexandria.
Caroline grabbed her bag, then gently lifted the small, sleeping dog into her arms. She stepped out into the crisp autumn air. She walked up the concrete path to the familiar, two-story colonial house.
She pulled her spare key from her purse. Her fingers hesitated over the lock. This house was no longer a home; it was the scene of her capture. A bitter taste filled her mouth, but the need to escape the penthouse’s silence was stronger than the memory of betrayal. She took a deep breath and unlocked the front door.
The moment she stepped into the entryway, the warm, sweet smell of baking apples and cinnamon hit her face. It was the smell of her childhood. For a split second, her shoulders relaxed.
Mrs. Thompson walked out of the kitchen, wearing oven mitts and an apron.
She saw Caroline standing in the foyer. The warm, welcoming smile on her face instantly froze.
Her eyes darted behind Caroline, looking for the towering, terrifying billionaire who usually accompanied her. The doorway was empty.
Mrs. Thompson’s gaze dropped to the black duffel bag in Caroline’s hand, the dark circles under her daughter’s eyes, and finally to the small, bandaged dog cradled in her arms.
The color drained from Mrs. Thompson’s face. She dropped the oven mitts onto the hallway table.
“Oh, my god,” Mrs. Thompson gasped, her voice high and panicked. “Did he throw you out?”
Caroline blinked, completely stunned by the accusation. “What? Mom, no—”
Mrs. Thompson rushed forward. She grabbed Caroline by the arm and dragged her into the living room, pushing her down onto the floral sofa.
“I knew it!” Mrs. Thompson cried, pacing frantically in front of the coffee table. “I told you to watch your temper! Men like Jarrod Romero do not tolerate disobedience, Caroline! Did you embarrass him? Is it because of that dog? Did you bring a filthy animal into his penthouse and ruin everything?”
A sharp, physical pain ripped through the center of Caroline’s chest.
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