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“Jameson.” The full explanation sticks in my throat.
My brother doesn’t need it. “Tell me where.”
I feel a pang that he’s willing to be here on a moment’s notice. All I did was say his name, and he knew. I’m lucky as hell that my younger brother is always down for anything. Most of the time, he considers his escapades a good time. He loves pranks, especially pranks on wealthy capitalist pigs. Mason and I included.
“It’s Elise. Bettencourt has her at his building. The second floor, probably. A big conference room.”
“I’m on my way.” Quick footsteps. I hear Mason in the background. “Back later,” shouts Jameson.
I find that window on the second floor and step closer. It’s dark, like all the others, but I can just make out…
What the fuck? A white dress, fluttering through the glass. How many of those does Bettencourt keep on hand? Is he planning to use all his daughters for disgusting cult bullshit like he uses Elise.
“Fuck, Jameson, I think I see her.”
“Wait. I’m coming to you. Just fuckingwait. Gabriel—”
I hang up on him and run.
I can’t wait. Not with Elise in the clutches of a madman. He killed my parents. He caned his daughters. He’s capable of anything.
The big front doors let me into the lobby. I don’t want to take the elevator, but I can’t see the sign for the stairwell. I count the seconds on the way up. Four, five, six. The elevator opens into a different hallway. Two seconds to get my bearings, and I sprint for the conference room.
I wrench open the door on the right and use it for leverage to propel myself inside.
This time, there’s no spotlight. No lights underneath the table. No Elise.
The door closes behind me with a solidclick.My mind catches up with what I already know. No Elise, because it smells like freshly cleaned carpet and polished wood and not a hint of buttercream.
No Elise, because the white dress is on a mannequin. Air from a vent overhead is making the fabric flutter.
Thank fucking God. That’s my first thought. She’s not in danger. Not hurt.
That relief lasts all of a heartbeat, becauseshe’s not here.Bettencourt might still have her. Hemusthave her, because I heard her voice. Didn’t I?
Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this. Gabriel? Gabriel, please. Help.
I have to find her.
The deep breath I take to steady myself has a taste. It has asmell.
It’s smoke.
I wheel toward the big doors and try one of the handles. It doesn’t budge, and my hand jerks itself away. I’m halfway through a string of curses when the burn registers. The damn thing must be ten thousand degrees.
I pull my shirt over my hand and go for the other door. Locked. There’s a third and final door, which opens onto a closet. Fuck. There’s an air vent within reach, but it’s bolted shut and too narrow to fit my shoulders through.
I’m trapped here.
The only way out is the window. I push the mannequin out of the way and look down. I’m probably about thirty feet above the ground. This is a better position than Mason was in. He fell from two stories higher. He waspushed,by our father. He tried to hang on to the windowsill. Between that and having to descend many, many floors through thick smoke, he didn’t have any control over his body.
If I want out, it won’t be a fall. I’ll have to jump.
Despite those differences, my problem is the same as Mason’s. It’s not the height. It’s the concrete down below. Mason landed with half his body on grass. I only have concrete and asphalt.
The impact could kill me, but I’ll definitely die if I don’t.
My mind flashes split-second images of Elise. Elise in my bed. Elise in the shower. Elise in the glow from the fairy lightsat her sister’s party. Then there’s Nate, vulnerable and in pain. Nate clinging to my shirt. Nate cracking a tentative smile. Then Mason and Jameson and Remy.
