One number at a time.
And he doesn’t answer.
The phone goes to voicemail, but the inbox is full. A ball of barbed wire seems to unwind in my throat as hopelessness steals the breath from me. With every breath, I swallow more of it and it pains my chest. My fingers dig into my shirt right over my heart, gripping and trying to pull the spiked pain away. But it only grows.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
I try my father’s number again, putting it on speaker this time, giving up any pretense I had before. If Carter walks in, I’ll tell him everything. There’s not any other light of hope left in the dark clouds that settle around me.
With the sound of the dead tone coming from the phone, I set the phone down, politely resting it in its cradle, and collapse into Carter’s seat.
I try Carter’s computer. It’s password protected.
I type in Tyler. Rejected.
Cross. Rejected. I would try birthdays and old exes if I knew any. But I don’t have a damn thing to work with.
My mind wars with itself, the stakes growing higher and higher as the seconds pass. Pulling open his drawer and flipping through files I try to find anything that could hint at his password, but I come up with nothing.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The clock plays tricks on me. An hour and a half has passed.
My pulse is so fast; I can’t hear anything else. I feel dizzy and lightheaded as I stand up and I have to brace myself to keep from falling over. The desk feels so cold and hard and the edges of it sharper than they did before.
I squeeze them so tightly that I think I may have cut myself but when I look down, there’s been no blood shed.
“I have to tell him,” I whisper to no one.
I can’t balance myself as I walk. I have to rest my head against the wall for only a moment to catch my breath and think of the right words to say, the only words to say.
My father is coming. Men are coming to kill you.
I fight back the rush of oncoming tears and force myself to move. Or maybe only to rescue me.
I shut the door behind me and take in a shuddering breath.
I walk down the hall toward the stairwell, feeling cold and numb.
Deep breaths, one foot in front of the other. That’s how I’ll end my father’s life and all those who stand with him. My cousins, my uncles. Nikolai.
God help me, please.
I pray as I grip the railing tightly and take each step carefully as my knees feel weaker.
Show me what to do. Please.
I’m halfway down the second set of stairs, toward the back half of the estate I never venture to, when I hear a gun cock. I freeze.
The sounds of a slap and a grunt mix with a cry of agony. My knees nearly buckle. They’re here.
I’m too late. No, please no.
“Fuck you.” I hear a voice I think belongs to one of my cousins and another hard smack as my knuckles go white from gripping the railing.
I can’t breathe as my bare feet pad on the cold floor and I sneak closer to where the voices are coming from. My heart is beating so loud, I think they’ll hear me.
How could I have let this happen?
How could Carter? The thought goes unfinished, but either way, my heart breaks.
“We’ll take it from here,” I hear Carter’s voice as I see the backs of two men leaving, walking out from an open doorway, and heading to the rear exit. Both dressed in black and carrying guns. Not handguns or pistols, but automatic weapons. I nearly fall backward on my ass trying to take cover in the closest doorway, so I go unseen.
The sound of metal scraping against the floor can only be guns being kicked away.
Guns and questioning. It’s an interrogation. My heart races and I struggle with what I can do to stop this.
“Where is she?”
Nikolai. I grip the wall, just around the corner from the front room where the voices carry from. The mix of adrenaline, fear, and betrayal riding through my veins in waves and overwhelming my ability to even think.
“I’ll ask again, nicely. What were your direct orders?” Jase’s voice is cold. Colder and harsher than I ever could have imagined. “Or did you not have any?”
I can barely breathe and when I do, it sounds so loud. My heart’s beating out of my chest when I peek around the corner, getting low to the ground and praying no one will see me.
“Did your boss really send you to your death on a whim? Six men against an army?”
I cover my mouth with both of my hands and nearly fall forward at the sight in front of me as I round the corner, the rushing of my blood drowns out the voices of the interrogation, but the sound of a gun smacking against skin and crashing into bone rings clearly.