The next morning is lonely.
And she thinks it's funny, because she never expected to feel more lonely than the moments spent alone in that cell.
But there is a certain kind of loneliness that comes when you can't say what you want to. When you can't have the conversations you've been dreaming of having over the past few months. When you must lock a part of yourself away.
She wasn't sure if she should mention anything to Sarah regarding Dorian. It was a horrible feeling that came even when she looked at Sarah. When she saw her leg bounce with impatience, waiting for something that would never happen. How when their eyes met, she saw that Sarah's were filled with hope. The same hope that once filled her own eyes, but one that had died a long time ago.
She knew it made the most sense to tell Sarah, but Ward hadn't mentioned anything. About what he wanted Sarah to know and to not know. What she would be able to talk about with her and what was off limits.
But she wasn't in any position to test those limits, because she knew if she said one wrong thing, that her brother would pay the price.
She could tell Sarah didn't know a lot. And each vague conversation that lasted between the two proved that fact more and more.
Valerie wanted to ask about it. To ask what she thought had been happening over the past six months. To figure out what could possibly be running through Sarahs mind, but she wasn't sure if she could.
So she didn't.
And instead everything she wanted to say, and promised herself she one day would tell Sarah would have to be placed on the back burner, and would be kept on a mental list to bring up later.
Ward seemed to be adjusting the best out of them all, and settled them into a somewhat domestic routine. They were required to sit and eat breakfast, lunch and dinner together.
It was a routine they fell into easily, because they weren't sure there was any other choice.
Sarah was the last to sit down at breakfast, and right away her eyes found Valeries, questions asked silently through wide glances and raised eyebrows. She wondered if this had become normal for them, and if she was now apart of it. Valerie wanted to tell her this was new, this was probably only occurring because she was there.
That maybe Valerie wasn't locked in her own cell because Ward was determined to treat her right in front of Sarah. To try and put on some act, to make himself look good.
And it all clicked into place the moment she realized that.
After all this time, this had all been a part of the plan. The same plan he'd had so many months ago when he first took Valerie off of that ship and onto this island. To get Sarah back.
It made sense, why he had been so intent on trading his own daughter for her, because she was leverage, to get Sarah to come to him willingly.
It still was only about Sarah.
"Good morning." Ward smiled at her, but Sarah didn't speak nor did she return the gesture.
Valerie dug her fork into the eggs assembled on her plate, keeping her head low trying not to laugh. She could have easily confused this moment for one she'd lived through a thousand times during the past few years.
But even Sarah and Ward must have known it was not the same and probably never would be. It didn't take long before they started to eat and silence settled. It was a loud kind of silence, one that rang in her ears and poked at her so much she contemplated breaking it.
She didn't though, because another part of her enjoyed it. How all she could hear was the clock ticking, Ward tapping his fork gently against his plate as if he expected either of them to make conversation. The air had become thick with tension and her or Sarah wouldn't so much as acknowledge it.
She wanted to ask Ward how they were expected to have a normal breakfast when guards stood watch at every entryway into the kitchen.
She wanted to tell him that so long as things stayed this way, nothing about this would ever feel normal, that they wouldn't get used to this.
"Valerie." Ward said suddenly. "How did you sleep last night?"
She didn't remember sleeping last night, she wasn't even sure if she could consider last night getting sleep. And he knew that too. Because of his own doing, she was rendered unconscious last night.
A few of her questions are answered with his own, and it was now obvious how little Sarah must know and how intent Ward was on keeping things that way.
"Fine." She answers dryly.
Ward clenches his jaw, and she wonders if he expects her to play nice. "Just fine?"
She nods. "Fine."
Valeries eyes find Sarah who glances between her father and Valerie, watching them with narrowed eyes. But when her eyes shift back to Ward, his eyes are only on her.
But Ward hadn't told her how she was supposed to act in front of Sarah. He couldn't possibly expect Sarah to believe this domestic act. She may not have known much, but she did know that Valerie was a hostage, and not here willingly.
"Is that the only word you can say?" Ward says softly, the harshness he attempts to hold back is not hidden and its clear both Valerie and Sarah can sense his growing anger.
"No, sorry. You're right." She clears her throat, and sits straighter. "You have been so kind to me. Over these past few months and I don't know what I'd do without you. Thank you, for the room, the breakfast." She pauses, lifting her glass of orange juice. "A toast, to Ward and his relentless kindness."
"Thats enough." He snaps.
"Yeah it is." Sarah places her palms flatly against the table and lifts herself from her seat. "I would like to go back to my room, or am I a prisoner here too?"
She doesn't wait for his answer before storming off. Ward who sits silently waits long after she's left the kitchen before turning his head to Valerie.
Valerie dosen't meet his eyes though, but she dosen't need to look at him to feel him staring. She knew everything she said and did or didn't say and didn't do was analyzed and picked apart by Ward and every camera and guard that watched.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He asks tersely.
Valerie shrugs casually. "I have no idea what you mean."
She knew exactly what he meant.
Ward drags a slow hand down his face sighing into his hands. "We have a lot of work to do today. I'm going to need you to stop with the games."
Her mind catches on the words, work and we and wonders exactly what Ward could possibly want to do with her today. She knew he'd mentioned needing her help, with Rafe and the cross, but it had only been twenty-four hours and she doubted that he'd found a lead already.
She wanted to buy Rafe more time, knowing he must have some sort of plan. And with arched brows, Valerie hums. "I don't know, my head still kind of hurts." She brings a hand to her forehead feverishly, and hums again this time seemingly contemplating.
Moments drag on, Ward doesn't reply, and she can practically hear the gears twisting in his brain, pumping out thought after thought. She basks in the silence, treating it differently than before and then picks up her fork, poking at the food on her plate.
She was surprised when Ward informed her and Sarah they would both be required to participate in daily meals, three times a day. It was much more than she'd gotten the last time she was here and she wasn't going to starve herself to spite him.
She brought the fork to her mouth just as Ward tossed a hand forward, reaching across the table. He eyes Valerie quickly, a decision being made with haste as he pushes the plate off the table. It shatters against the ground, breaking into pieces, glass mixing with bacon and scrambled eggs.
Ward doesn't look at the mess he's just made, and disregards it as if he'll never have to think of it again. Which she figures is the truth, she's sure he has someone that will be here in minutes to clean it up, and he won't even remember this moment. A moment that will probably replay in her mind all day.
Her eyes meet his instantly, letting the fork slip from between her fingers and clatter against the table. She wants to laugh, but the noise gets caught in her throat, and for a moment it's not just Ward looking back at her, but the same man who was capable of torturing her, tormenting her, making her want to die.
She almost forgot who she was sitting across from.
Swallowing all the words and remarks she had lined up, her hands begin to shake and he reduced her once more to the small little girl that once hid in the corner of a cell whenever he swung open the door, pulling her out to hurt her for his mere entertainment.
"You have an hour." He says – no demands. "Meet me down here."
She dosen't nod, or acknowledge him in any way.
She just does as she's told, and walks away from the dining table.
Its been fourty-three minutes.
She showered, changed, and even took a few minutes to style her hair. Something she would admit to missing more than certain basic nessesacities. But even as she took her time, and let the minutes pass her, it still hadn't been an hour.
So, with seventeen minutes until she was supposed to meet Ward, knowing she wouldn't bother showing up even a minute early, she stood outside of Sarahs bedroom door. She only knew this would be the room Sarah was staying in because Rafe had pointed it out to her once.
Ward had of course set it up the moment they'd arrived to the house, presuming that one day he'd get his daughter here.
She hated that he had.
"I need to get in there."
A lanky man stood as a barrier between her and getting inside Sarahs room. Even as Valerie stepped right in front of him, he didn't move aside, he didn't look at her or even acknowledge her presence.
She weighed her options briefly in her mind, and knew reasoning with a man who wouldn't even acknowledge her presence seemed useless. A few more situations played out in her mind, he was skinny, and the only thing intimidating about him was the rifle slung over his back.
She was sure she could take him, Ward had hundreds of guards, what was one? It was clear they were disposable. Valerie clenched her fingers around her own gun, feeling the weight of it in her hand.
Killing someone wasn't something she was particualrly keen on, and it wasn't exactly something she would prefer to do. But it was excusable. She wouldn't let it get in her way, and she'd forgive herself for it without question because it would be easy to blame it on her situation.
She'd watched Rafe kill someone before, she'd felt their blood on her own skin. Valerie lifted the gun just an inch, it felt heavier and heavier with each second. Stomach, heart, head? She wasn't sure where to aim. She didn't even consider the fact that she might miss, that the noise might draw the attention of Ward or even worse, Sarah, who was just behind that door.
"I wouldn't bother with that weapon, Miss Claremont." He speaks. He acknowledges her. He looks at her, at the gun in her hand. And as soon as he finishes speaking his gaze averts everywhere but her, and she thinks maybe she imagined it.
She wouldn't have gone through with it, and she thinks he knows this too.
"Can you move, then?" She asks.
Nothing.
She must have imagined it.
"I need to get into that room." She wonders how many minutes she's wasted standing here, knowing she needs to meet Ward soon. "Move aside, jackass."
He slides his tongue over his lips, a key unlocking his mouth. "Miss Cameron isn't allowed visitors at the moment."
Valerie waves the gun aimlessly in the air, the guard doesn't flinch. "I just want to talk to Sarah."
"I suggest you do so at dinner." He pauses. "Or perhaps breakfast tomorrow morning."
"Come on." She groaned. "I know Ward's got this place rigged with cameras, so what's the big deal? Just move."
He didn't speak again, and his silence only made her grow angry. She was running out of ideas, so in one last attempt her lips parted and her best friends name formed a scream that the guard seemingly anticipated, and before she could call out Sarahs name, he reached forward pressing a firm hand against her mouth not allowing any sound to escape.
"I wouldn't anger Mr. Cameron." He warns. "Especially when you'll be spending the day with him."
She hated that Wards men knew more than she did.
It made her wonder how much Ward actually trusted her, despite what he claimed.
The guard shrugged, stepping aside. He looked at her for only the second time with a wary frown, saluted her, and walked away.
She reached for the doorknob, her fingers brushing against the metal, but before Valerie took a hold of it, she glanced over her shoulder, eyes capturing the clock down the hallway.
Two minutes.
Her hand fell, dropping against the side of her body and she turned away as much as she begged herself not too. But logic led her feet back to the kitchen where she was supposed to meet Ward. Because even though she didn't want to she had to.
He may have given her power, but he'd taken all of her free will.
They moved quickly, and she was grateful for it. The moment she arrived in the kitchen he lead her outside. Unlocking the backdoor with one of the many keys he kept on a ring, quickly stuffing it back in his pocket when the door swung open.
He didn't bother to explain anything, what they were doing, where they were going, how long it would take. Instead, in silence, he and two of his guards led her down the beach and towards the dock and onto one of the boats.
She didn't pay much attention as Ward whispered amongst himself and one of the men, the same lanky guy who stood outside Sarahs door, a conversation she once would have strained her ears in hopes of catching pieces of a broken sentence. But she didn't.
She was too busy watching the house up the shore, even though it looked the same as it did yesterday, men lined up outside guarding it, weapons fastened on their belts or across their shoulders.
Even as the other man untied the boat, releasing it from the dock, preparing them to leave, she could not tear her eyes away from the house, the men. Her stomach twisted and her heart ran miles, because her mind begged her to jump off the boat before it had a chance to leave the island.
To run to the house, to run inside and see what Ward was hell bent on protecting, what was so important.
But she couldn't. It was too important, and if Ward didn't want her to know what was inside she wouldn't. There were hundreds of men standing in her way and she was sure that she wasn't as important as whatever was inside.
They'd shoot her to death, no question.
She knew she must be an important aspect to Wards plan, but she was positive whatever was inside that house out weighed her use to him.
So instead she tried to avert her thoughts anywhere else, and it wasn't long before the house disappeared into the distance and the island all together became nothing more than a blur in the horizon.
She thought of today.
Today they must be looking for Rafe, or the cross, that much was obvious.
As difficult as it was, she shifted her gaze from the empty sea to Ward, he was still talking to Sarahs guard, and she quickly became fascinated in the mans words, not only because she was finally hearing one of Wards men speak, but because it wasn't the first time.
He had spoken to her, only a few hours ago.
She began to wonder if they were under strict orders not to talk to her, not to look at her, not to even acknowledge her existence in the house. Because she'd spent the past twenty-four hours here, watching them, and it felt like it was their job to ignore her.
This time she inched closer to them, hoping to pick up on bits and pieces of a conversation. "You really think it's a smart idea to bring her? What if she runs off and asks somebody to contact the police, or–"
"Yes." Ward sighs loudly. "Give her more ideas, why don't you?" He turns his gaze towards Valerie with a knowing look. She had been hoping to go unnoticed by Ward, to eavesdrop on something she wasn't supposed to hear. "She wouldn't bother with any of that anyway, right Valerie? Besides, it's not like I can return to the island myself, Peter."
Her mind became stuck on many words. Return to the island. Return to the island myself. Peter. All of them.
"Then send me, I'll go look for your son–" Peter says.
Ward exhales sharply, glaring at Peter. "You didn't let me finish."
"Go ahead."
Ward drags a slow hand down his face, annoyance present. "If anyone were to come across Rafe I want it to be her." He points a finger at Valerie, and she feels the weight of his entire body through the gesture.
Peter narrows his eyes and it's obvious that his alliance is to Ward. She wonders briefly how Ward won these men over, why they were so selfless, so trusting towards him. "Why do you trust her all of the sudden?"
She almost laughs.
Ward crosses his arms, and takes a few steps towards Valerie. "I didn't ask you to come for your commentary." He takes a seat next to her, and waves a dismissing hand through the air, a motion for Peter to go anywhere else but near them.
Peter does as told without question and enters the cabin of the boat, joining the other man.
She doesn't notice her hands shaking, and she can't look at Ward. Instead her gaze falls on her shoes.
"Don't tell me by island he means the Outer Banks." She murmurs.
Ward is silent.
"Don't tell me you're that stupid, Ward." He's still silent. "Tell me were not going–" She wants to say home but her voice catches on the word and it becomes stuck in her throat, preventing her from saying anything else. "Tell me you're not that stupid." She repeats instead.
"Valerie." He says softly.
She shakes her head, quickly, and cuts him off because she dosen't want to hear what he has to say. "No fucking way. You are that stupid? Tell them to turn this boat around, what the hell are you thinking?"
Ward is silent again. He taps his foot against the floor, waiting. Like he knows she has more to say and he doesn't want to speak, not until she's finished.
"He isn't wrong." She points to the cabin where through a small window Peter and the other man can be seen conversing. "Theres a million holes in that plan. We're going to the island? You're sending me, into Kildare?
"I'm not really worried." He says. "It's a stretch. But Rafe would never expect me to go back there."
"It doesn't make sense." She shakes her head again. "Someone will see me, someone will recognize me. I've been missing for–"
"No one thinks you're missing, Valerie."
Her world shatters.
Now she knows he's lying, because that isn't possible. She won't even entertain his words, she won't even ask him to elaborate, because she decides she no longer wants to hear any of this bullshit he's feeding her.
But somehow he knows that, so he continues anyway, "Rose spoke to your father a while back. He isn't suspicious. I've kept Kildare under close watch. Not a single report has been filed claiming that you're missing, or in any sort of danger."
"No." Her voice is weak. It's been six months, she's sure someone would have noticed. Someone would have thought it to be odd, despite any misleading phone calls Rose may have made. "My Father–"
He cuts her off again. "Is under the impression you are away with Rose and my children."
"Away with Rose?" Valerie repeats with bemusement. "So they haven't found the body of the women you killed yet?"
"I didn't kill Rose." He bites out, his voice veering down a harsh road and she figures just the mention of Rose crosses hundreds of lines she isn't supposed to.
She laughs loudly. "Fucking lair!"
Ward lifts himself up and walks to the other side of the boat, he can't go far though, the boat only stretches a few feet apart from one side to the other.
Valerie exhales a huff of air, scoffing with lingering disbelief, and she knows she should drop it, especially if she'll be on this boat for the next day or two, her only company being Ward, Peter, and another guard. She's severely out numbered.
But she's also angry.
"What happened to your first wife, Ward?" She prods. "You know, Rafe's mother, Sarahs mother, Wheezies–"
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He turns to face her, hands curled into fists, his eyes popping out, wide with rage. "This isn't a Q&A. Don't speak to me."
"What happened to equals?" She snorts.
Ward shakes his head, short, soft laughs, fall from his lips sharply. "I give you a gun, I give you a room, I give you power. And this is how you say thanks?"
"Oh, sorry! You're right!" She places a hand over her heart. "Ward Cameron. My hero."
Ward, who seconds ago flushed with anger, suddenly smiles. And his features fall back into place and there are no traceable emotions across his face. If she hadn't witnessed it herself, she would have never detected the anger running through his veins.
He practically tip toes around the boat, silent steps bringing him back towards Valerie. "The moment I get the cross, the moment my son is behind bars, and you no longer have use to me." He pauses as if hoping to add suspense. "You'll be dead."
She had a feeling that Wards plan of locking Rafe away wasn't the main focus, and that he really only wanted Rafe for the cross, but still she went along with it.
"You really think I can help you?" She grins foolishly. "You really need me?"
"I firmly believe you are our only chance." His voice grows soft, placing his anger in a box and locking it far, far away. Once again holding himself back for whatever reason. "Now that Rafe has the cross, he has leverage. He'd never willingly give up its location. But for you, for your life? I'm positive he would."
She nods silently, leaning down to untie her shoe. After the laces loosen, she's able to slip her foot out and reach her hand inside.
"What are you doing?" He asks tiredly.
Valerie looks up, smiling, her hand still dipped inside her shoe. "You really need me?" She asks again.
Ward frowns, and sighs boredly, not sure what she's attempting to accomplish, but he doesn't seem to care. "Yes." He breathes.
She nods again and removes her hand from the shoe, a dagger between her fingers. Her eyes flicker between the dagger and Ward, laughing lightly at the amusement coating his face. She watches him as she brings the blade against her own throat and his eyes widen.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He shouts.
"I want your word." She stands, steadying the dagger, pressing it down harder to her throat, on the verge of drawing blood. "When this is all over, you will let me go. Let my brother go."
Ward remains silent, watching her like she's nothing but entertainment to him.
"You don't think I don't want to die? You think I enjoy this? You preach all this bullshit about returning to Figure Eight, about being a family." She spits her words at him like bullets. "I don't want that. I want to be free. I want Dorian to be free.
"Go ahead, Valerie. Kill yourself." He encourages her. "I'll make a call and have your brother shot right now. You two can die together."
She shrugs. "I think you need me more."
"You'd like to bet your brothers life on it?" He challenges.
"I would." She presses the dagger firmly against her throat, droplets of blood forming around the blade. It almost reminded her of so many months ago when Rafe had held this same dagger against her throat, almost taking her life with it. She chuckled softly, inching it across her throat, pressing it deeper and deeper.
Streaks of red drizzle down her throat, soaking the top of her shirt. She wouldn't care if she died right now. Of course she wanted to protect her brother, but she had a feeling that Ward was bluffing, and it was a chance she was willing to take.
A choked cough flew from her throat as she dragged the blade further.
"You have it." He shouts. But she only slows her motions, not dropping the blade completely, and watches him with waiting eyes. "You have my word."
She lowers the dagger but seconds later holds it back up. "Thats not enough." She says aloud the moment the realization crosses her mind, because he is so effortlessly lying. His word means nothing to her. She presses the dagger between the skin she already sliced through, wincing. "I want the cameras removed from my room too." She decides. "What am I going to do? Conspire against you in the dark while I'm sleeping? You don't need to see me changing, Ward, fucking take them down."
"Fine."
She waves the dagger around in the air, motioning to him with urgency. "Now! Call someone, tell someone to take them down while we're gone." Her words form a presumptuous demand, not because she has the power to accomplish it, but because she knows if he doesn't do it now he never will.
"Fine!" He says again. "Need anything else?" He barks out, sarcasm seeping through each word as his anger returns.
"A towel would be nice." Her hand swipes up some of the blood dripping down her chest.
Ward makes the call soon after her request. She sits back down, listening as she nurses her wound. The white towel she presses against her neck grows red, sopping up blood.
Theres a few moments through out the night where she becomes concerned for her life, fearing she went too far, and begins to feel woozy. But she doesn't consider telling Ward and far more prefers the idea of dropping dead while he sleeps, opposed tp asking to go to the nearest hospital.
Its almost a day and a half later when they finally arrive, and about three A.M. when they dock the boat. She briefly wonders why Ward would want for them to arrive so late, but she knows everything he does is with intent.
Ward was very meticulous in his instructions. He told her they'd be docking just down the shore from his home on Figure Eight island. That she should travel down the beach during night fall to guarantee not being seen. He handed her a hoodie, tying the strings in a tight bow around her neck to shield her throat from anyones view. Nothing to draw attention to her. He'd say. He gives her a Walkie, the small radio flashing with lights communicating with the identical one Ward and Peter have fastened to their belts.
She should look around for anything that looks off, anything that might give away Rafe, or any signs that anyone has been in the house. He told her that if she sees him to keep distance, to not make contact unless necessary, or unless he sees her first.
He was however less meticulous on what exactly she was supposed to look for. "And how am I supposed to know if anything looks off?" She asked, interrupting Ward. "Just saying, no ones been there for months, what am I looking for?"
"Anything." He replied.
She laughed. "I doubt Rafe's just camping out in your house, or even on this island."
"I deactivated all of his credit cards. He's cut off, he has nowhere to go. No where to hide the cross." He was trying to reason with her, trying to make her understand his useless plan. But she couldn't help but feel off about all of it. Like he had a different motive that he wasn't sharing.
She hums. "Right, and I'm assuming this conversation ends with you threatening my brother if I step a foot out of line or do anything besides what you say to do, so why don't we just skip that part and I'll get going."
He nods, because he has her locked in place. But still his doubts linger and he wraps a hand around her arm preventing her from taking a step forward. "Don't screw this up." He warns.
"Or you'll kill my brother." She sighs. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."
They docked about a mile from Wards house, leaving her with a fifteen minute walk down the beach. Most of the houses that scattered the shore were dark, no lights could been seen through the windows, which meant she didn't have to worry that much.
But if Ward was right, and no one thought she was missing like he said, she didn't have to worry at all.
Valerie wanted to believe he was lying, but her father was hardly around, and if Rose had called and said she was with them, he probably wouldn't have seen any reason to worry. She'd like to think there were more people in her life who would care, who would notice, who would see through all the lies.
But when she came to think of it, there weren't.
It was mid February, and all the tourists that usually crowed the island had gone home. Everyone her age would be away for college, like Valerie should have been herself. The beaches were empty and she only heard the crashing of waves opposed to the usual laughter and music she'd heard last time she was on the island.
She missed it, the people. Most of her friends complained about tourists, taking some pride in being locals. But she enjoyed it. New people flooding in and out of the island every week. It always excited her, it always brought new experiences and new possibilities.
The island always felt empty once summer would end and the beaches became more and more empty.
The walk stretched on, and felt much longer than fifteen minutes by the time the surrounding houses grew familiar and she was fumbling with a set of keys Ward gave her to enter the house through the backdoor.
The lights were out, just as any other house she'd passed on her way here. But her stomach still filled with uneasy nerves as she padded through the kitchen, her footsteps soft, hoping to be unheard even though she didn't actually think Rafe or anyone had been here recently.
Every room brought a sense of familiarity which she tried to ignore. But every time she shut her eyes the room filled with light, and people, and memories she didn't want to relive. It wasn't until now she realized how much things really had changed.
Valerie began winding through the house, room after room, up step after step. She wouldn't say she was really looking for much, because she still didn't understand what she was supposed to be looking for.
Something still felt off, like she shouldn't be here. Like there was something else going on that she was unaware of.
And when she had made her way through the entirety of the house, she was almost sure of it. Because Valerie didn't understand, they'd traveled a day for this? It was a waste of time. Time that they didn't have, because if Rafe truly had the cross it was time he could be using to hide far away.
It didn't make much sense, but suddenly it clicked.
It was a distraction.
To get her out of the house, the house where Sarah and Dorian were.
Something else was happening there and now she was here, miles away, and there was no way for her to stop it.
She exits the house through the main entrance, and takes slow steps up the driveway, not because she expects to find something out front, but because it doesn't matter. Even if she were to run back to the boat they still wouldn't return for another day and whatever Ward was planning would already be implemented by the time they did.
The street is just as quiet as the beach, and even as her eyes flicker up and down the street, back and forth, over and over again, not a single car passes. She stands in the road, bouncing on the heels of her feet and she waits.
She waits and waits and waits for a car. But one dosen't come, and she isn't sure why she wants one to.
But, still, one doesn't come and she's wasting time so she takes one step in the direction of her house because its just up the road. Because she knew that's what she wanted to do.
Its in the opposite direction from the boat, from Ward, from Peter, from the other guard. Of course it was, because he'd never let her pass her own home on the way to his.
She takes another step. And another. And another.
Because she's curious. Because she's supposed to still be looking through Ward Camerons house. Because she has time.
Because she needs to make sure its still there.
The lights are off in her house, and she wonders if it's because her father is sleeping or because he isn't home.
She wonders if he's noticed Dorian's absence yet, or if he's disregarded it just like her own.
She steps through her front yard, its always been smaller than Wards, and she was always a little envious of that growing up. Maybe thats why she notices the sign, or maybe it would have been impossible not to notice either way but she'd like to put a reason behind it.
Her father was selling their house.
Valerie can't reason with herself as to why she cares so much, because she shouldn't even be here. She probably would never return to this house again regardless of if her father sold it. Not if Ward had anything to do with it.
For a moment she wonders if this is the last time she'd even step foot again in the Outer Banks alive, but she disregards the thought and she walks up the front steps and to her front door, and fumbles with the knob. It's unlocked and she wasn't sure what that meant.
Her father wouldn't be here. He was never here.
For all she knew this house might not even belong to their family anymore.
And it was confirmed when she walked through the front door.
It reminded her a lot of when they'd first moved in. Empty, no furniture, no pictures hung on the walls.
Completely empty, any trace of her family ever living here had been erased. All the memories that once filled the four walls of this house had been pushed out. She shut the door behind her. It was the saddest door she'd ever shut.
She took a few steps down the hallway. They were the saddest steps she'd ever taken.
She came back to her house looking for something, but her father had stripped away everything it ever held and even though she didn't know what she had been looking for she knew she'd never find it here.
"Valerie?"
Her father stood hunched over, elbows supporting him as he leant against the kitchen counter, head between his shoulders. The only thing in front of him was a bottle of scotch and a glass he'd just downed.
"Dad?"
She can't move, she can't breathe. She can't even shut her eyes so she's forced to watch him as he pours more scotch into the cup, lifts it to his lips and empties it all in one sip. He doesn't meet her eyes until the glass clanks back down against the counter.
"Are you drunk?" She asks. Did you end up like mom, she'd rather say but she doesn't.
His lips press into a thin line that forms a frowns. And thats answer enough.
"You need help with your stuff?" He asks forcing a change of subject. "I didn't expect you to get back so late." He says this, but doesn't mention the fact that it's three A.M. again, nor does he consider it odd.
She shakes her head but doesn't answer him. "Why are you selling the house?" She asks instead.
"I tried to call." He offers vaguely.
Valerie clenches her jaw. "No service." And she has to press her lips together to prevent anything else from coming out.
Because really, she wants to say, "Dad help me." The words are lodged in the back of her throat. "Ward Cameron's alive, fucking crazy, and holding me hostage. But If I say anything or do anything about it he has someone on speed dial back on this island ready to kill your son the moment he receives the okay."
But she can't.
William Claremont circles the kitchen slowly bringing himself closer to his daughter. His eyes are glassy and he sways with each step. She glances between him and the bottle of scotch which is almost empty, and he leads her to believe it was full at the start of the night.
"Me and your mother got a divorce a month before she died." He admits and she wonders if its only because he's intoxicated.
"What?"
He sighs, it's a heavy sound that smacks her right in the face. "We were going to tell you kids when the time was right, but, well, then your mother, she died. And then the time was never right."
Valerie nods, but is at a loss for words so instead she waits for her father to continue, because he must be attempting to make some kind of point.
"She took me for almost all I was worth. I had to take out a second mortgage on the house, and we've barely been surviving, and its just not enough anymore. We're not moving to The Cut, but I can't afford–" He pauses, waving his hand around. "This, anymore."
Suddenly she feels like comforting him. To tell him its okay, that she never cared about the house, or the money. "But I – I don't get it. If she died, where'd all the money go?"
"I thought she'd leave it to you kids." He laughs deeply. "But funnily enough, she paid a visit to our lawyer a week before she died. Left everything to Ward."
"To Ward?" She echos his response.
William laughs again, this time a much sadder sound. "All the money. The vacation homes. She gave him everything."
A sharp swirl of emotions stabs her in the stomach, and her heart stops because suddenly everything makes too much sense yet none at all. "Homes? As in plural?" Her father never mentioned homes. They had one beach house down in Florida, but it's only ever been one.
"We – I, had an offshore safe house, down in the Bahamas, private island, uh, the Cays, I believe. Big money pit. I stuck your mother with it instead of giving her all my cash hoping it would buy us time, but here we are." He shrugs.
"I don't get it." Valerie breathes. "Why would she leave it all to Ward?"
"Your mother was having an affair." He answers instantly. "Really made no sense to me. What a man like Ward would see in the women your mother had become."
The drugs. The alcohol.
She didn't see it as an insult, because he could insult her mother, he had before, and he'd been more direct about it. No, it was just the truth. It was a thought that crossed her mind as well. What would Ward see in her mother? When he was married to Rose.
The money.
"Did mom show any signs?" She'd asked her father once. "Did she seem-"
"Suicidal?" He'd answered. "No, not really. But I guess drugs could drive someone to do anything."
Ward Cameron killed her mother. She was sure of it.
Valerie glances at the clock, and she knows she's wasted far too much time to not seem suspicious. She should have been back by now, and Ward must know that.
"You aren't staying, are you?"
Is this even our house to stay in? She wants to snap back. But she knows thats mean. "Rose is taking me and Sarah to England." She answers sheepishly.
"Oh." He says. "What about college?"
"Gap year." She supplies, and she isn't sure he believes her, but he has no place to question her life choices. She's an adult, and even before he'd never shown much interest in her life, so who was he to start now? He knew that as well, so he didn't say anything.
She turned to leave.
"Oh, and Dad?" She called out over her shoulder, hopelessly. "Maybe you should take a vacation soon. You seem stressed. I heard the Bahamas were beautiful this time of year, I'm sure Ward and Rose wouldn't mind."
William chuckles, and then nods. "Call more often." He says instead.
"I'll try."
He taps his fingers against the counter hesitantly. "Are you sure you're alright, Val?" She wants to laugh, did he have some parental instincts after all?
No. Not even close. She wishes she could say. "Just peachy."
She sneaks around the side of the house and dosen't worry if her father sees her. Because her mind is plagued with too many other things to worry about a night he probably won't remember.
Her feet sink into the sand, flinging it everywhere with each rushed step she took. Thinking if she ran, maybe she'd make it before Ward got too suspicious. Because it had been longer than he'd anticipated, but not once did she hear the small radio buzz with noise.
So maybe, just maybe, she thought, things might be okay.
Until a hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her up the beach, just far enough away from her house. She's too late.
"That wasn't Mr. Camerons home, was it Valerie?"
Peter. Guard Peter. Wards trusted alliance, Peter.
She takes it all back.
"What were you doing?" He asks, his hand still gripping her wrist with a growing harshness that reminds her all too well of Ward.
Valerie laughs, but her voice shakes. "Nothing?"
"Now." He stops and points towards her house. "Mr. Cameron did tell me you don't live far from him. In fact." He points again, counting silently the houses down the shore between hers and Wards. "I believe, if I'm correct, was it three houses apart?"
She digs her feet deeper in the sand, hoping it will swallow her whole.
Peter releases her and pulls the walkie free from the holster it sits in.This is it, she thinks. But instead of bringing it to his mouth, instead of ratting her out to Ward as she expects, he clicks a button that stops the humming. The colors flashing on it dim and the device turns off.
"Lets go." He exhales through his nose. "Ward's going to be very impressed you took so much time inspecting his house."
"What?"
"That's why you took so long." He raises his brows with a knowing grin. "Because you were checking every room, every corner, throughly. Right?"
Valerie nods. "Yeah, of course."
Peter the traitor, she laughs.