I follow the bloody trail, holding my crowbar in front of me like a baseball bat until I hear the sound of voices.
Holy shit, I’m really doing this.
A deep voice dripping with fury splinters the quiet: “Release the jet, Alex.” I hear a nauseating thud, a choked grunt that I know must come from Alex.
I stop outside the door, back pressed to the wall.
“I’ll give you one more chance, Alex, because I’d really rather not hurt you any more than I need to. Clear me a jet, get me out of the States, and you’ll be home in time for breakfast tomorrow.”
I hold my breath, leaning toward the small window in the door to some sort of control room andfuck. There are two of them. A smartly dressed man with a badly beaten face, and a hooded figure with his back to me that can only be Cain Green.
Cain steps to the left, and my stomach plummets six floors.
Alex is tied to a chair and he looks in a bad way.
His hair is a mess, tumbling over his forehead just enough to leave the cut above his eyebrow visible. Blood trickles over his temple and my heart pounding in my ears is the only thing I can hear.
I’m so consumed by rage, I almost smash my way through the door without a single thought. My hand is wrapped around the handle, the other clutching the crowbar, when Cain turns ever so slightly.
A gun glints in his left hand.
All confidence I had fizzles out. I’m out of my depth.
I flinch when his hand grips his son’s jaw, forcing him to look up.
Oh, Alex.I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t come earlier.
He looks so hurt. Blood trickles from his mouth, but it’s the grief swimming in his gaze that knocks the air from my lungs.
Cain thrusts a phone into Alex’s face, tightening his grip on the gun. Someone speaks on the other line, and I just watch, helpless, as the last of the fight leaves his body.
“Alex?”
“Dan, hi,” he rasps. “I need a jet, off the record. One passenger. I’ve got a passport. Can you sort it for me tonight?”
“Thought Green was done with all that, Corbeau.”
Alex’s eyes drift shut. His father presses the barrel of the gun into his temple to wake him up. “Yeah, well … something came up.”
“How are you gonna sweeten the deal?”
His head drops forward in defeat, blood dripping onto his lap. “Five hundred thousand.”
“Eight.”
“Fuck you,” he rasps, voice hoarse. Cain clicks the safety off the gun. I clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle my sharp inhale, but Alex’s head snaps up.
My eyes connect with his for the briefest of seconds, and even in the dark I see the fear in them, the horror that I’m here.Go, his say.Never, mine say back.
I pause for a moment, drag in the first steady breath I’ve taken since I got out the car. You can do this, Ophelia.Think.
I duck out of view, a plan forming. As a final hope, I text Russell.911.I glance to the end of the L-shaped hallway, say a prayer, and run round the corner. I wrap my clammy hands around the handle of the door to the room beside me and push it open.
Then I slam it shut, hard.
I press my back to the wall, chest heaving as I wait and hope.
I hear a door open at the end of the hall, hear the other guy tell Cain he’ll investigate the noise, silence whatever janitor has made the mistake of coming up here after hours.
