Taking a step to the curb to cross the road, all thoughts of doing the right thing vanished. All I could think about was disappearing so Elder with his sexual threats and men like Alrik with his fists could never touch me again.
My heart wrenched tight on an invisible collar, yanking me to a stop.
You’re better than that.
Don’t become the criminal to justify a crime done to you.
The wallet hissed with slurs, calling me a thief—weak to take and wrong to keep.
My shoulders slouched.
No, I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t steal from another even if it meant my freedom. And Elder knew that. He’d made me face the truth by giving me yet another choice.
Choices.
I hate them!
This was the fourth in a long day of directing my life rather than having it puppeteered for me. How different would it have been if I never said yes to coming into Morocco? Could I have sun-baked on the deck and people watched as the port went about its daily bustle?
I could’ve avoided the almost kiss, the conversation with Dina, and the awful awakening that’d been prodded to open its blurry eyes inside me.
But I’d made those choices, and I had to live with them—just like I had to live with myself with whatever choice I made with the wallet.
Dammit.
Pirouetting, I broke into a jog, cursing the way my lungs wheezed and sweat rolled down my spine. I couldn’t call out for the tour group to pause and clambered back the way we’d come, trailing after them.
Not only had Elder given me the choice to steal or not steal and then the task of chasing after a wronged man with his robbed dollars, but he now forced me to break my silence for the second time in a matter of minutes.
Not trusting my tongue to form cohesive words, I swallowed hard, gathered my courage, and tapped the third man from the end on his shoulder.
He turned around, blinking with his camera in his hands ready to capture another picturesque memory of Morocco.
I held up his wallet.
Immediately, rage filled his face. His eyes narrowed, his tanned skin pinking with anger. He shouted at me in a language I couldn’t understand. Snatching his money, he waved at his friends, blabbering in animation.
I held up my hands, saying in unknown sign language that I’d found it in the gutter and returned to him.
A lie.
My badly orchestrated articulation didn’t work.
His friends joined in, pointing fingers, getting louder with their blame. One reached for my shoulder, yelling for the tour leader to bring reinforcements.
Terror unlocked the preservation gates inside me. I did the only thing I could.
I turned and bolted.
I ran, ducking around children and animals, weaving around women with shopping bags and men selling their wares. My knees bleated like massacred livestock; my tongue twinged from bouncing in my mouth.
But I didn’t stop.
Part of the tour group gave chase. Their foreign voices angry and whipping my back with memories of being punished. Of blood dripping, of tears falling, of silent screams shredding my throat.
My past blended with my present, and I didn’t just run from them; I ran from him.
Alrik.
My heart yelped, grabbing bellows to force more oxygen into my almost crippled limbs. Stumbling, I never gave up until I skidded to a stop beside Elder.
He didn’t flinch, merely glanced at me as if I’d been there all along.
I was safe with him, but the chasing stampede continued. I looked over my shoulder, fear once again ransacking my stomach.
Elder stopped and spun in place, dragging me behind him with a firm grip.
The men locked their knees, turning their jog into a standstill. They glanced from me to Elder who stiffened with frost then crossed his arms in predatory invitation.
For a second, they sized him up, their desire to punish me willing to earn a few bruises in a fight. But as Elder took a heavy step in their direction, they decided it wasn’t worth it and turned around.
A few pissed off glances sailed over their shoulders, interlaced with angry grumbles.
As the distance between them and us widened, I gave into the residual pain and hugged myself, breathing hard.
Elder interrupted my recovery with a harsh snip. “How does it feel to be punished for doing the right thing?”
I threw him a withering look.
He gave me a raised eyebrow.
I glowered at him the entire way back to the Phantom.
“SIR? YOU WANTED the car again?”
I looked up from my email as Selix entered my office.
After returning to Phantom yesterday, I’d left Pimlico to her own devices. I had too much work to do to spend yet more energy on her.
I’d forced her to take responsibility for herself and her choices. I wouldn’t say my method of teaching had backfired, but she hadn’t forgiven me for stealing or for making her give it back.
As we’d boarded the yacht and gone our separate ways, her temper crackled so fierce it lashed my skin long after I’d said goodbye.