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Come home or she’ll take your place.
I click on the second message with an attached image.
A broken sob has my hand flying over my mouth to stifle the sound.
An image of Charlie fills my screen. One where she’s lying on a bed with her hands tied to a very familiar iron headboard. Tears track down her temples, soaking into her hair. But it’s the wide golden eyes filled with true fear that tears my chest open and obliterates my soul.
A new message notification pops up, hiding the picture.
UNKNOWN
Tell no one that you’re leaving, or she dies.
I drop the phone on my bed as if it just burned me and bury my face in a pillow, silently crying.
Why now?
Why is he doing this now?
What does he want from me?
Is this ever going to end?
What if I can’t get to her in time?
Fuck this. I’m not some damsel, I’m the fucking heroine of this story. A renewed determination fills my chest. Goosebumps flash down my arms, and my nerves vibrate with terror and adrenaline. I throw on a pair of dark jeans, combat boots, a white tank top, and the leather jacket Kain gifted me.
I stuff the note from Virgil in my back pocket and grab my duffle bag, the one I ran with only four months ago. Quickly, I throw in a couple changes of clothes, a few toiletries, my favorite towel, and my weapons—the blades from Kain and the gun from Daemon. I don’t plan on sticking around, just long enough to get Charlie and get the fuck out.
Reaching under my mattress, near the headboard, I slide my hand through the small slit I made and pull out the baggie of cash. A couple weeks after the guys found me at the party, they went back to my apartment and gathered the few belongings left after Donovan forced me to move in with him. Hiding in the tampon box in the bathroom was my stash of cash. I immediately hid it when they gave it back to me.
I sneak out of my room towards the foyer. Voices carry down the corridor from Lucifer’s open office.
“Do we know how they plan to transport them? I’d like to avoid roadblocks or checkpoints that will require explanations,” Daemon says. Ever the tactical one, stay one step ahead, and you won’t be caught off guard.I mean to be, Daemon. I hope I’ll make you proud.
“Or better than how, what about when?” Kain interrupts impatiently. “Did they say anything about Sid? I want him to remain here. I’m sure he has some information on the club dealings, members of the police department, and politicians that are on the take that could use some extraction.” I hear the wicked grin that’s adorning his face right now, and I can see it vividly in my mind.I’ll channel that wickedness soon enough myself. And I’ll think of you in the moment.
“Maybe Eden would want to help me,” Kain adds, and the crack in my chest widens with his invitation. I have to go. If I continue to stand here listening to them, I’ll never have the strength—or will—to leave.
I pull the envelope from Virgil with the picture of Charlie inside out of my back pocket. On the back of the envelope, I write a quick note to the guys. Removing the gifts from Kain and Daemon from my bag, I stare at them in my trembling hands. Trepidation fills my mind, and the ache in the center of my chest threatens to swallow me whole. I’ll never get close to Virgil if I show up with these. He’d take them, and I’d never see them again. And Ihaveto get close to him if I’m going to get to Charlie.
Mind made up; I place them gently on the table with the note. “Please, forgive me,” I whisper into the open space.
I glance around the foyer one more time. One tear. One moment. That’s all I’m allowed to give.
I leaveKain and Lucifer to their argument about how best to extract information from Sid. Kain voting for the bloodiest and most painful of options, or maybe take a page out of Eden’s book and leave him with permanent reminders of the kind of man he is.
“What would be the point? We’re just going to kill him in the end,” Lucifer kindly reminds Kain.
“Eden found it rather therapeutic,” Kain says. “And right now, I’m holding a lot of anger towards the man and could use some active therapy.”
Mindlessly, I walk the marble halls to the foyer. Turning the last corner, I’m hit by a cool breeze. I narrow my eyes on the open front door.
I know I closed that when I got back this morning.
Didn’t I?
I push the door, waiting for the audible click telling me the locking mechanism is fully engaged.That’s working.
