Mac looked through the window at what was to be her new 'home,' and while her eyes said she was impressed, she kept the rest of her body stoic. She wanted to hate it, but it was very nice looking, much bigger than Jack's and of course, a hundred times better than Castor's. But with age, came wealth, and Rebekah was an ancient. That was the sole reason Mac hadn't tried to run from the car once it left Castor's. Had Rebekah merely sent a driver, Mac would be more than half way to the docks by now, getting herself a boat off the damn island, and away from any and all masters who would have her. She find one of her pack members, and have hi remove her damn tracking devices from her body, and then she'd be in the fucking wind faster than anyone could say, "run away slave."
But no, Rebekah actually came to fetch her, so there went that dream down the toilet. Running from someone who was possibly twice, if not three times as fast as you, was not a smart thing.
Getting out of the car, Mac gently shook her head at this entire scenario. It was all bullshit. "Don't you mean, 'welcome to my home, and your new cell?' Because fancy or not, this place is still a prison for me," Mac snided.