Page 57 of Protecting Bree
“Good job!” Julie exclaimed.
Holding up the jagged piece, Bree was shocked to see that it was the perfect size for a weapon. One end pointed and sharp, it was about the length of a butcher knife. She needed to make some sort of handle though, so it didn’t cut her palm.
“Here, let me see it for a second,” Julie requested, holding out her hand.
Bree didn’t hesitate, handing it to Fiona, who passed it through the bars on her other side to Julie.
Squinting to see Julie through the hazy air and dim red light, Bree watched the other woman use the sharp edge to cut a swath off the bottom of her slip. “Since I’m so much shorter than either of you, I have more material to work with,” she said matter-of-factly. When she was done, she passed the makeshift knife and the material she’d cut from her own clothing back to Fiona, who gave it back to Bree.
Looking down at it, Bree felt like crying. Either of the women could’ve kept the plastic for themselves. Having a weapon felt like a huge advantage. And yet neither even seemed to think twice about giving it up. And Julie had sacrificed part of her clothing—which there wasn’t much of to begin—to help make the plastic more useable.
Fumbling with the material, Bree tried to figure out how to wrap it around the plastic and get it to stay. Frustrated with her lack of success, she huffed out a breath.
“I can cut some more,” Julie said quietly. “Maybe it can be used to tie around the material you already have.”
Sitting up straighter, Bree nodded to herself. That’s what she needed. Something she could use to tie around the material.
Without thinking twice, she raised the plastic and, before either of the women could say anything, she’d cut off a chunk of her long hair.
Looking up at Fiona, she said, “I needed a haircut anyway.”
For a moment, no one said anything—then both Fiona and Julie burst out laughing.
Smiling, Bree leaned over the locks of hair she’d hacked off and carefully began to separate them into three sections. If she’d thought about this for a second, she would’ve been smarter and braided her hairbeforeshe’d cut it off, but it was too late now.
By the time she was done, her back hurt from hunching over, her eyes ached from trying to concentrate on her task in the funky red light and make sure she didn’t lose any of the hair, and her fingers were sore from a task that waswayharder when the hair was no longer attached to her head.
But she’d done it. She’d braided the hair and wound it around the material, tying it off to create her odd-looking handle.
It wouldn’t stand up to much vigorous use, but it felt good to have some sort of weapon.
“Now to get one of us out of these fucking cages,” Fiona muttered, as she sat on her ass, leaned back on her hands, and began to kick at the bars on the front of her cage.
But no matter how hard she kicked, or how desperately she tried to pry them apart with her hands, the bars wouldn’t budge. Bree had no idea what they were made of…titanium? It was frustrating. How could they escape their captors if they were stuck in the damn cages?
While the other women struggled with their cages, Bree did her best to hone the edges of her makeshift knife so it was as sharp as possible. At some point, she’d get a chance to use it, and she had to make the most of whatever opportunity arose.
“What do you think the guys are doing?” Julie asked, sitting back with a frustrated huff when it became clear their efforts were futile.
“Stressing. Planning. Arming themselves,” Fiona said without hesitation.
That made Bree smile a little. She could picture Smiley and his team hunched over a table at the base, studying maps and swearing revenge on Mateo and anyone else who’d had a hand in kidnapping them.
Then she sobered. She hated to think about Smiley or any of his friends stressed out because of this situation. And poor Remi, Caroline, and the others. Were Maggie and Addison all right with this added stress? It couldn’t be good for their babies.
Shehatedthis. Hated being the reason the closest friends she’d had since high school were probably not eating well, stressed out, and worried.
Hell, she was worried too. There was no telling what Mateo had planned for them.
No, that wasn’t true. She knewexactlywhat he had planned, and it made her want to stick the plastic knifeshe’d made into her own heart. She’d rather die than be used as nothing more than a way for a man to get off.
As soon as she had the thought, Bree felt horrible. She wanted to live through this so she could go back to building a life with Smiley. Besides, Fiona and Julie were living, breathing proof that it was possible to survive what many people would think was the worst thing that could ever happen to a woman.
Bree mentally vowed to do whatever she could to help herself out of this situation. And if the worst happened, if she was assaulted, she wouldn’t break. Smiley and the others were out there. Desperately doing what they could to find them. She had to believe that they’d succeed.
“You guys feel that?” Fiona asked, a sense of urgency in her tone.
Bree sat up inside her cage as she looked over at the other woman.
