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Wesley and Stuart are in the sitting room, sitting on opposite ends of a leather sofa. They stand as soon as I enter.
I turn to Stuart first.
"I need you to keep an eye on Ben and my father," I say to him. It's obviously not what he was expecting me to say." After seeing the altercation between Alize and my father, I want to make sure he doesn't get involved in this somehow. The news of her kidnapping is going to get out eventually."
As we speak, police officers have cordoned off the security room because of the death of the two guards. Stuart nods and leaves the room.
The tension ratchets up as soon as I'm alone with Wesley.
I had a choice of who I wanted to accompany me, and I still chose him. Even after the fuckery he's caused. Despite what he did, Wesley is still my best shooter, and I can count on him to have my back. Even more so today, since he's aware of how badly he's fucked up.
Also, I’m not sure if I could look Ingrid in the face if I killed her son.
"I've got the guy’s name and possible addresses," I say to him. "I'm giving you twenty minutes to round up a few other guys from the Empire you trust. I'm going to make some calls to get some eyes and ears on the ground as well."
Wesley nods.
"Then we're going after the motherfucker who dared touch what's mine."
THIRTY-FIVE
ALIZE
Alarms are goingoff somewhere in the distance.
Is it a fire truck? An ambulance? I can't be sure, but it's loud.
And getting louder still, like it is coming toward me.
The high-pitched squeal reverberates through my thoughts and instantly a wave of nausea racks my body. The feeling of acidic bile mixing in my throat is what snaps me out of the mental haze.
My mouth tastes of copper, too.
And pain.
There's so much pain.
I crack my eyes open and everything hits me all at once.
The deafening noise filling the room, the heaviness sat on my chest, the pain searing through every inch of my body. I feel beyond sick. This is somewhere close to death, I'm sure.
My memory comes back to me in pieces while I try to figure out where the annoying, incessant noise is coming from.
There's no way for me to have a general idea of the time anymore because Laurent has covered the wall of screens with a huge sheet. Is that some sort of punishment? I'm alone in here, and the room is just as bare as I remember.
I feel terrible.
I've never felt this vulnerable in my life.
This kind of pain is nearly indescribable. It goes so much deeper than the kind I inflicted on myself over the years. I'm exposed, raw. I don't have a lick of energy in my muscles, and the pain aching in my joints is sapping the last bit of strength I have left.
I'm so tired.
But I can't go back to sleep.
Something about the weariness beckoning me feels final.
I'd rather spend my time trying to figure out the sound I'm hearing. It's something to do. Something to keep my brain from trying to turn itself off.
