Chapter Thirty One
NATE
The sun clawed its way through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the sterile hospital waiting room. I sat there, elbows on knees, head down, hands clasped together as we waited. I focused on my breathing, as Tristan had taught me, fighting off what must be the third panic attack that hour. Bast could have calmed me down, but he wasn’t in a good place.
He’d been pacing up and down for hours, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. The man known for his iron control and unnatural calm, had completely fallen apart the moment we’d walked into our kitchen last night.
The cryptic phone call from Tristan late last night had unnerved both of us. There had only been two guys at the warehouse, though some had already cleared out by the time we got there, and the guys they’d left behind had squealed almost immediately, letting us know Bates had got an anonymous tip about the location of our warehouse. He’d sent them up to check it out and they’d loaded our latest product into the van, then taken off, leaving these two to set the fire. It was a shame both had ended up consumed by it. We’d just been adding our bloody clothes to the fire, when Bast’s phone had gone off.
The world spun into a blur as Bast, and I had raced back to the car and taken off through the deserted streets. Streetlights streaked above us like fallen stars as Bast opened her up, and we’d made it home in half the time it had taken to reach the warehouse.
We’d skidded into the driveway, nearly hitting Tristan’s Porsche, and sprinted towards the house. I would never forget the sight that waited for us inside. The aftermath of our worst nightmare was real. Bodies sprawled across the tiles, and so much blood. We’d seen devastation before, guys we’d worked with, laughed with. But seeing my friend, my brother, and that pool of blonde hair, that had been shattering.
“Check them.” Bast’s voice had been strained and hollow, as he’d stood there unmoving.
I’d pushed past him, crouching next to Tristan, desperately feeling for a pulse.
“He’s alive,” I’d said. “Bast, call an ambulance now!”
Bast had pulled out his phone but looked across the kitchen.
“Her?” he’d asked, choking on the word.
I crawled across to her, hands and knees covered in blood, my hands trailing over her shoulder to her throat searching for her pulse. I’d tried again and again, but there was nothing, and I’d sat there, staring up at Bast, to see my own agony reflected in his eyes.
He’d given a sharp nod, and turned away, speaking into the phone as the emergency services answered.
I’d slid my hands under her, rolling her over into my arms, needing to hold her one last time before they took her away, and my life ended. And then, it was like my heart had begun to beat again.
Bast had gone quiet, barely speaking except when the paramedics and police had questioned us, and I was forced to take over, telling them just enough to get them off our backs. Once I’d managed that, we’d followed the ambulance to the hospital and Tristan had been rushed into surgery as soon as they’d got him here. That had been seven hours ago, and we were still waiting to hear if he’d pull through.
Bast passed me again, and I reached up, grabbing his wrist.
“Sit down, Bast.”
“I can’t,” he snapped.
“This won’t help. You need to conserve energy for… later.”
“Later? For what? We have no fucking idea where… I can’t do anything, Nate! There’s nothing… she’s gone, and I can’t…” he whirled around and drove his fist into the wall, leaving a sizable dent. “Fuck!”
“I never told her,” I said, staring at the floor.
Bast turned around, blood dripping from his knuckles.
“Never told her what?”
“That I can’t sleep without her. When she’s there in my arms, the nightmares don’t come back. She keeps them away, just by being there, but I never told her.”
Bast took a heavy breath and sank down next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. For once, I didn’t shrug it off, and my skin didn’t crawl at his touch.
“I noticed you’d been sleeping better,” he said gently.
“I need her back, Bast,” I whispered. “I can’t sleep without her.”
He nodded.
“What didn’t you tell her?” I asked, turning to look at him.
He looked away, and didn’t answer, and my anger started to spike.
“You never told her, did you?”
“Told her what?” he snapped, glaring at me.
“That you fucking love her.”
Bast’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to reply, but at the moment the door to the waiting room opened and a doctor appeared in the doorway, his scrubs smeared with blood.
“Sebastian Blake?”
We both stood up and Bast nodded.
“Yes, that’s me. How is he?”
“He”s going to be okay”, the doctor said. “It was touch and go for a while there, but he”s stabilised now. We managed to stop the bleeding and repair some of the damage.”
“Some of it?”
“Mr. Blackwood sustained serious internal injuries.” The doctor paused, as if searching for the right words. “We”ve done all we can. It”s up to him now.”
“Can we see him?” I asked.
“Yes, but only briefly.” The doctor gestured for us to follow him down the corridor.
The room was dimly lit, a single dull light casting long shadows against the white walls. Inside, Tristan lay still on a bed, lost amidst a tangle of wires and tubes. His chest rose and fell evenly under the thin hospital blanket.
I approached the bed, hating the sight of my friend so weak and vulnerable. His face didn’t look right without that cocky grin.
Bast hung back, standing in the doorway like a ghost of himself. The man who had always thrived on control and power now looked defeated, haunted by what was happening to two people he cared about more than anything.
Silence hung in the air like a shroud, only broken by the soft beeping of Tristan”s monitor. Our eyes were locked onto him, tracing his every breath as if it was our lifeline.
“Who did this?” Bast said. I didn’t answer. His gaze hardened as it lingered on the bandages lining Tristan”s chest. “Once we find out...I”ll make them pay.”
“I know. We both will.”
The time dragged like an eternity as we sat next to Tristan’s bed, hoping and praying that he would wake up. Bast had finally taken a seat, exhaustion creeping in as the day darkened into the night and then lightened again. Still, we sat there, completely powerless.
Every now and again, Bast would leave to answer his phone, filling me in on each conversation when he returned, but they all had come up with nothing so far.
I looked up as he returned to the room from another call, glancing at the clock. Five thirty nearly. It has been over twenty four hours now.
Bast lowered himself back into the chair he’d been sitting in, looking over at Tristan. I wasn’t sure if he was calmer now, or in shock. When I looked at him, I could still see the worry and the pent-up rage in his eyes.
“My contact at the station says they”re doing all they can,” he said, his voice strained. “Forensics are still working on the case. They haven’t found the murder weapon yet.”
I nodded without looking at him. “We need to know who did this, Bast.”
“I know,” he snapped, all semblance of calm gone. He paused for a moment before continuing in a quieter tone. “We”ll find him.”
“And Paige...” My voice faltered as I thought of her. She was out there somewhere, alone and probably terrified. God knows what he was doing to her. It made my blood boil. I was going to kill him.
“We”ll find her too,” Bast assured me, although his voice held no certainty.
The minutes ticked away slowly into hours, marked only by the rhythm of Tristan”s breathing and the monotonous beeping of machines.
As dawn began to break, colouring the room with an ethereal light, Tristan finally stirred. He grimaced and groaned in pain as he blinked and tried to open his eyes, looking at us with a flicker of recognition playing in his gaze. It was pain-filled and clouded with sedatives, but it was there. Waves of relief washing over us. He was awake. Battered, bruised and broken, but awake. I crossed over to the bed, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight.
“Paige,” he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. “She…”
“Shh,” Bast said. “Don’t strain yourself. We need to call a doctor.”
Tristan”s eyes flickered towards me and I could see the telltale signs of fear in the corners of his eyes.
“Where’s…Paige?” He was forcing the words out, his voice barely a whisper.
I looked up at Bast, and he shook his head.
“No,” Tristan whispered, his grip on our hands suddenly tightening. His breathing became ragged, and a wave of panic washed over his face. “No... she...where...?”
“Tristan…” I warned him but he was too far gone in his own panic.
“NO!” he roared in frustration and anguish, rattling the hospital bed as he tried to get up, collapsing back against the pillows in exhaustion.
His door burst open as the doctor and several nurses rushed in. The doctor pushed past me and moved towards Tristan, trying to calm him down.
“Mr. Blackwood, you need to stay still,” he urged, but Tristan was panicking, his eyes wild as he tried again to pull himself out of the bed.
“Paige...” Tristan gasped again, his hand reaching out blindly. “Is she...?” His voice was filled with such raw anguish that it made my heart clench in my chest.
One of the nurses moved forward, a syringe in her hand, and Bast instantly moved in front of them, a wall between Tristan and the medical team. His hand was up to stop them. “Wait,” he commanded, his voice steel.
I moved behind him, grabbing Tristan’s shoulders and pushing him back down.
“We need to sedate him,” the doctor said.
“Give us a moment,” Bast said. He turned towards Tristan, grabbing his hand.
“It wasn’t her.”
Tristan blinked at him, and I frowned at Bast. Bast looked up at me.
“He thinks it was her. In the kitchen.” My eyes widened as I realised what Bast meant, and I sank down onto the bed next to Tristan, hands still on his shoulders.
“What?” choked Tristan, his eyes fixed on Bast.
“It wasn’t her you saw in the kitchen, Tris. You thought it was Paige, didn’t you? On the floor in the blood. We did too. But it was her mother, Tris. It was Pauline. Paige isn’t dead.”
Tris’s body went limp underneath my hands and he sank back into the pillows, closing his eyes.
“Not her?” he whispered.
“Paige is alive, Tristan,” I said. He opened his eyes, and they were glassy as he looked up at me.
“I thought…”
“We know. We did too.”
“She’s safe?” he looked over at Bast, who sighed.
“She’s alive, Tris. And we’re going to find her.”
Tristan stared at him. “He took her, didn’t he?”
Bast nodded. “We think so. We’re going to find her, Tris, but we need to know what you saw that night.”
The doctor moved up next to Bast.
“You’ve calmed him down, but I need to examine my patient and make sure he hasn’t burst any stitches.”
“I”m fine,” muttered Tristan.
“Mr Blackwood, you were stabbed twenty seven times. You are extremely lucky to be alive, so I think I’ll be the judge of whether you are fine or not.”
Bast nodded, his jaw clenched as he moved away, letting the doctor pass. I let go of Tristan, and he didn”t move but he looked up at Bast.
“It was him. He said she was his and we ruined her. He had one of our masks.”
“A Reaper? Shit!” Bast’s anger was clear, but Tristan shook his head.
“No, he was too old. Middle aged I reckon. And he drove a van. One of those Fords… something… shit I can’t remember.”
“You’re doing great,” I said gently.
“It was dark red. Old, maybe a 2002 plate I think…” he winced, and I saw the bloom of red on his hospital gown.
“Doctor?” I said, moving back quickly.
The doctor nodded. “He’s torn some stitches. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
I nodded, and Bast reached down, putting his hand on Tristan”s arm.
“You did good,” he said softly. “And we’ll find her.”
Tristan nodded. “Find her.” His face tightened as he gritted his teeth. “And find him.”
“Oh, we will,” I said. “I promise you.”
We walked back out into the hallway, and I leaned back against the wall, suddenly feeling extremely tired and weary. Bast did the same next to me and sighed.
“He’s alive.”
I nodded.
“I thought…” He trailed off, but I knew what he meant.
“Me too.”
“Fuck, Nate. If he’d…”
“He didn’t.” I knew what he was feeling, because I felt the same. We’d nearly lost Tristan once before, and we’d sat at his hospital bed then. I swallowed hard. This really wasn’t the time, but suddenly I realised I couldn’t keep it hidden any longer. Paige had allowed me to unleash my demons with her, and I was finally starting to heal because of it. Now I needed to give my friends the same consideration. I took a deep breath.
“Bast, we need to talk.”
He looked over at me, dark circles under his eyes from worry and lack of sleep, and I winced.
“Now?”
“It’s got to be now.”
He nodded, then turned and walked away. I followed him through the hospital till we reached the outside. The sun was rising, and I blinked at the brightness. Bast walked a little way along, then sat down on a low brick wall that ran along the back of the hospital, looking out over the car park. There were only a few cars, and I could see his Range Rover from here. I sat down next to him, resting on my elbows and looking at the ground, struggling to look him in the eyes.
“Talk,” said Bast.
“Last time, with Tristan…” I gave a sigh of frustration, not knowing where to start. “The night we were taken, and they separated us. They beat us badly.”
“I remember,” said Bast. “They wanted to know the location of the arms stash we’d helped move.”
“Tristan gave up the location.”
“I know, he told me afterwards. He was a mess. Hated how he’d given in.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think he was weak.”
“Neither do I. When I told him I wanted him as a DeathKnight this year, he tried to refuse. Said he wasn’t worthy of it, that he didn’t want to be the weak link. Obviously, I ignored him. I didn’t know he’d told you about it though.”
“He didn’t tell me.” I took a deep breath. “When we were separated and… questioned, I passed out. I wasn’t out long, but when I came to, Carver was there.”
Bast turned to look at me, but said nothing, and my insides clenched with nerves as I continued.
“He wore a mask, but I knew it was him. He told the men that they’d been too soft on me, and they needed to push me harder. So, they tried again.”
“What the fuck?”
“I didn’t break, so my father took over.”
“Shit, Nate.”
I swallowed and looked up at him. “Bast, my father has… since I was a little kid, for a really long time he… he’d come to my room at night and…” Shit, I’d already told Paige, why was this so fucking hard?
A softer look crept into those ice blue eyes, and Bast put his hand on my shoulder. “We know.”
I blinked. “You know? No, you don’t know what…”
“We had a pretty good idea. I even tried telling my dad about it. He tried to get your father excommunicated for a fake reason, but Carver has too many allies in the Syndicate, and he couldn’t swing it. I’m sorry, brother.”
“Fuck.” I looked down at my hands, shame burning in my face. “Tristan knows too?”
“He’s the one who worked it out. That night actually. At the warehouse.”
I jerked my head up. “How?”
Bast sighed. “They showed him the video of what someone was doing to you in the other room. They told him the only way he could make it stop was to give them the information they needed. So, he did.”
“Fuck.” I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing the heaviness in my throat. “Father came back in later. Showed me a clip of Tristan giving up the information, but said he’d just caved under the beatings. He warned me to get rid of him, and said he’d be the weak link that broke us.”
Bast shook his head. “He’s a fucking snake, Nate. He manipulates everyone. But it wasn’t your fault. Or Tristan’s.”
“That’s why he was so fucked up afterwards,” I said. “He thought he was weak, that he’d end up getting us killed.”
Bast nodded. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather Tris had our backs than anyone else in this fucking world.”
I looked up at him, old anger stirring up once again at my father and all his shit. “Agreed.”
We fell silent and listened to the waking birds and the growing traffic on the road past the hospital.
“I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner,” I said. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”
“He made you feel ashamed. Weak and powerless,” said Bast. “But you aren’t. None of us are. He needs taking out, Nate. If the Syndicate won’t do it, we will.”
I shook my head. “We can’t risk that.”
Bast sighed. “I’ve kept something from you too.”
I looked at him as he brought out his phone and started flicking through it.
“My contact at the station told me there was a camera found on Pauline’s body. A spy camera, designed to be concealed in a room that picks up visual and audio. Quite high spec, but not difficult to find online if you know the right people.”
“It filmed the attack?” I asked quickly.
“Only picked up audio, and even that is pretty muffled. My contact sent the details to me, and I got Joe on the job. He traced the feed back to Pauline’s laptop and hacked into the files.”
“Will they help us find this dead man?” I growled.
“No. But that wasn’t what I wanted to show you. From the audio file, it does seem that Pauline wanted Paige to plant the camera in my office. Seems she has a vendetta against us all. Paige refused. This time.”
“This time?”
“Pauline tipped off Bates to hit our warehouse last night to get us out of the way so she could come and see Paige and set up the camera in my office seeing as Paige wouldn’t.” he swallowed. “Our girl really came through, Nate. She stood up to her so well.”
“Good,” I said gruffly. “But how did Pauline know about the warehouse location?”
“Because Paige did hide another camera. In your father’s office during the Christmas party. Pauline must have got the info from there.”
“Shit. Paige did that?”
Bast nodded. “She was fucking terrified of Pauline. I’m not going to hold it against her.”
The story Paige had told me about the dinner flashed through my mind and I nodded. “Me neither.”
“That’s not what I was worried about keeping from you though, Nate. Joe sent me all the footage from the office. I thought it might prove useful if we wanted to take Caver down at some point. And then I found this right at the start of the recording.”
He passed me his phone, staring ahead as I watched the grainy images on the screen, my heart starting to pound as I watched my father walk in on Paige just as she’d hidden the camera.
“Bast, what is this?”
“Keep watching.”
A decade of shame, sickness and anger at my father was nothing compared to the white hot fury that flashed through my veins as I watched him push my girl down onto his desk and push his hand between her legs. The camera was pointed straight at her face, and I could see the tears sliding down her cheeks onto the desk as he hurt her. Sick relief followed as he pulled away before going further, and I passed the phone back to Bast, my hand shaking.
“Nate?”
I didn’t answer. I got up and walked away. I made it ten paces before I dropped to my knees and screamed, my wrath echoing around the car park. I’d done this. I’d brought her to my home, right into the path of that monster. This was on me.
Bast came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder but said nothing.
“He needs to die,” I gritted out. “Die. He needs to fucking DIE, Bast!”
“He will,” said Bast quietly. “And we’ll make sure both of you get your vengeance on him. But right now, we need to find her, Nate.”
I took a few deep breaths, fighting the urge to hit, to hurt, to destroy. Paige. She was what mattered. Just her.
After a moment, I got to my feet, and turned to Bast.
“How do we find her?”
“The van is our best link,” said Bast. He tapped the description into the browser on his phone and brought up stock images. “I think this is what Tristan was describing,” he said, turning the screen round and showing me a picture of a maroon coloured van.
I frowned. “I think I’ve seen that van before. Around campus.”
“He was probably following her,” said Bast, looking down at the screen. “Actually, you’re right. I’m sure I’ve seen it too… the art room.”
“The art room?”
He nodded. “Definitely. I’ve seen it parked outside the art department when I’ve been there to pick Paige up. It was there a few times.”
“So maybe it belongs to someone there?” I suggested, hope sparking deep inside me. “Any Reapers in that department?”
“Not this year, but George Monroe is fucking that girl who’s doing photography.” Bast was already sliding the call icon across on the screen.
“Monroe, it’s Blake. I need you to call Susanne for me right now. She’s with you? Good. I’m sending you a picture. Wake her up and ask her if she knows any of the students in the art department that drive a van like this one.”
He tapped the screen, sending the photo, and put it back to his ear. After a moment, he nodded.
“Thanks, Monroe. And go give that girl the best head she’s ever had. She’s earned it.”
Bast hung up and turned to me, his expression cold and hard. I knew that face well, and the darker side of me felt a flicker of excitement. There was going to be blood spilled today.
“So, which student is it?”
“Oh, that van doesn’t belong to a student. Or a professor.”
“So, who the fuck does it belong to?”