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“Look, like I told the kid, Han gave me the address, all I did was plug it into the GPS.”
We all turn around and head up the massive set of stone steps leading to the large double front doors. As my foot hits the final step, the doors swing open.
“Hey guys,” Hannah greets us, motioning for us to enter.
“What is this, baby?” Arsenal asks as he leans in to kiss her.
“It’s, well… her.”
He raises an eyebrow and the color drains from his face. “Does she?”
“It’s fine,” she nods, gulping audibly.
“Well, well, well,” a tall thin woman with long dark hair and deep brown eyes descends the staircase, joining us in the foyer.
“You,” she starts, pushing past Hannah and stopping in front of me.
“Amel-”
“Hannah, stop,” the woman snaps, interrupting her without taking her eyes off of me. “It’s your man that started this mess right?”
I simply nod, being cautious since I have no idea what I’m stepping into.
“Zeke?” she asks, and again I nod. “You love him?”
“Y-yes,” I stammer. She has a dominating presence, and she quite frankly makes me a little nervous. Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifts her hand to her chin, rubbing her bottom lip with her thumb as she gives me a once over. I’m not sure what she’s looking for. What she needs to know, or what she’s getting out of sizing me up, but it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.
“Hmm,” her eyes flick back over to Hannah as she spins around. “Hannah Banana, bring your friends. We have much to discuss.”
Hannah Banana?
All of us glare at Hannah whose expression is growing more and more irritated, but none of us open our mouths. We simply follow Hannah and the peculiar woman deeper into the largest, creepiest house I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Chapter thirty-four
Zeke
“Ahh, he lives,” a deep voice rumbles as my eyelids slowly flutter open.
A sense of doom settles in when I move to sit up only to find that all of my limbs have been restrained. I’m laying on the bed with thick leather cuffs shackling my wrists and ankles, securing me in place. Making sure I can’t move.
Lifting my head from the pillow, I look toward the foot of the bed, and my eyes meet those of the man from the video. With black hair peppered in strands of white, deep, dark eyes, and an expensive suit, he looks like someone of importance.
“Who the fuck are you?” I grunt, tugging at my restraints as if they’ll magically fall apart.
“Cyrus. Cyrus Hearst,” he pushes up from his seat at the foot of the bed and walks around until he’s standing near my head. “I hadn’t intended on actually coming up here, but after that massive… tantrum, it’s pretty clear to me that some perspective is required.”
“Fuck you, I won’t work for you,” I spit, dropping my head back onto the pillow as I stare up at the ceiling.
“I think I may be able to change your mind.”
“Fat fucking chance. Besides, you have a fucking hacker.”
“Mmm, yes,” Cyrus pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “That we do, but he’s clearly slipping. That aside, he’s not well, and he will need replaced sooner rather than later. Imagine my shock and awe when you drop in - quite literally may I add - just when I’m in need.”
“You may as well just fucking kill me, because I’m not helping you. You’re sick. You’re all fucking sick. I know what you do here.”
“Oh Mr. Adams, I assure you, we accomplish far more than you could even conceive. The thing is though, this is not a question. I’m not asking you for your cooperation. I’m telling you. You will comply.”
