Papillon

Chapter 37: Alone

Francis

We'd checked into a hotel by Moreau's home.

I wanted to barge in there, but Damon insisted that it would do more harm to go in without a plan.

"Haste leads to mistakes, Francis. And I don't make mistakes," Damon had said calmly, twisting a silencer on his gun. The blasé manner in which he handled the weapon had sent a shiver down my spine.

My eyes had settled on the gun immediately and I knew, in a few short hours, I'd be the one handling it–not him.

At 4 AM, the two of them were finally asleep. Christian hardly slept at night and Damon could wake up at the sound of a ruffled feather. Grabbing a pen, I wrote a note.

Don't follow me. Go home. I need to do this alone.
Thank you for everything. There's no way I can ever repay you both.
You saved my life.
– Francis

The door shut behind me, and I flinched at the finality of the sound. I wasn't ever going to see them again.

Corrosive acid built up in my throat, burning my esophagus as I rubbed my hands together, until I finally reached the place I never wanted to see again.

Tall columns and high walls.

Thick ivy vines twisted through every crevice of the house, all the way from the eighteen feet, thick double doors to the top of the roof.

Nine thousand eight hundred and forty-seven bricks on the front wall of this house and not one of them made me feel safe.

Twenty-four bedrooms in this house and not one felt comforting.

Three separate kitchens in this house and not one fed me or Mama more than bread and water.

I'd made it all the way to Moreau's palatial home–it was literally an old palace. I spent nearly nine years of my life here with Mama. Seven years of abuse because the gracious Moreau waited until I was four years old before he laid a hand on me for the first time.

Nothing about this house was a home.

Nothing about it was real.

The black gates of the house were before me and with it, my fate.

Security guards roamed the whole estate, keen eyes looking out into the night. It was a good thing I loved black, wasn't it?

My entire life, I'd learned how to fight. Fight the predatory men that I was unfortunately always surrounded by. I'd thought I was done. Thought I never had to do this again.

But, as I hopped the stone ridge and covered a guard's mouth with a rag doused in chloroform, I knew I was far from leaving that life behind. The thud of the guard's body had alerted another but before he could raise an alarm, I charged at him, tightening my hand around his thick neck. His pulse quickened under my fingers and I tightened until it dimmed and his eyes shut.

A solid left hook took out one of the guards by the front door and I rammed a potted plant on the other's head before he could even register my presence.

It was alarming, how easy it all came back to me. Being violent, defending myself, and doing anything to make sure Mama was alright.

I scaled the stone column, hopping onto a patio three floors up. The tough surface chafed my hands, but it was hardly noticeable over the pain in my chest with how fiercely my heart was beating.

Mama was close and that was all I could fucking focus on.

Another guard went down easy as I gripped my arm around his neck until he passed out.