Chapter Forty Five
My pulse thunders in my ears, my breathing echoing like an empty rattle in my chest. I should be fighting for control like the others, but I can’t bring myself to clear the daze coating my vision. It’s like the room is spinning in slow motion, Meg’s haunted blue eyes blinking at me through the chaos. Huxley is frozen in place, a gun at his temple.
Dax is trying to hold Wyatt back, as my stepbrother grapples to stay standing despite the multiple goons trying to push him back into his seat. I don’t see the taser drawn until it’s shoved into Wyatt's side, forcing him into submission. The zapping jolts through my senses, and Wyatt’s arm hit me on the way down, a heavy thud against my arm and the chair groaning beneath his bulky weight.
Beside me, Garrett is cradling a blood-smattered Axel, protecting him as much as he’s able with his arms wrapped around Axel’s shuddering shoulders. Clearly, the body staring blankly at him is having a huge psychological effect on Axel’s mind.
I can’t bring myself to look at Nixon. I can’t even consider what the blank look in his eyes means. For all of his misgivings, he was my parent. My last living parent. I swallow, forcing the thoughts back, knowing I’ll need to deal with some things later. If there even is a later.
Harrison catches my eye, his smile menacing as he orders the dealer to set up a fresh game. The first card is tossed across the table, landing face-up in front of me, and just as I resign myself to this never-ending hell, the lights flicker.
At first, the bulb blinks, plunging us into bouts of darkness and then flashing bright again. A chill grips me in its claws, a voice in my head telling me not to be stupid. Not to risk the family I have left. The flickering casts jagged shadows across the card table, making every movement feel disjointed, like a stuttering film reel that’s skipping frames. I force my eyes away from the dead body, from Axel’s traumatized expression, from the twisted smirk curling at Harrison’s lips. I set my sights back on Meg, and in the next bout of darkness, I move.
Wyatt groans beside me, his body twitching from the aftershocks of the taser. He feels the brush of my leg shift against him and tries to push himself towards me. Luckily, like the other men in the room, he’s too slow. The light flashes on, catching me nearing the wall. I half debate tackling the man holding Hux hostage, but in a split decision, I know I can’t risk it. Two more steps, plunged into darkness again, and I’m throwing myself in Meg’s unexpecting arms before the next blackout.
Meg stiffens as my weight crashes into her, her arms frozen at her sides as if she doesn’t know what to do with me. My fingers clutch at the tattered fabric of her top, desperate and clawing, grounding myself in the little warmth she has.
She smells different. Gone is the floral shampoo I remember, replaced by sweat, blood, and fear. She feels different. There was no familiarity or returning hug or grasping desperation to get closer to me like I imagined. But beneath it all, buried under months of pain, she’s still my twin and my best friend. I need to get her out of here.
The lights flash back on, and she jerks away as if she’s been burned. Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who was in a rush to reach her. Harrison’s laughter cuts through the space between us, his hand grasping her by the hair. Meg’s body slips away from me, her raspy scream beside my ear. I grapple blindly, wrapping my hands around her arm and moving to stay with her. Vaguely, I hear shouting and banging against the other door, just a minute too late.
"Police! Everyone inside, come out with your hands up!"
Someone unfriendly comes up from behind, rough hands grabbing at my arms and shoving me forward. I refuse to let go of Meg as we’re pushed and pulled in the same direction, leaving the roar of commotion behind. A strangled noise rips from my throat as I fight, twisting and struggling, my flat shoes dragging against the carpet as I’m hauled through the side door.
The lights in the room flicker back on, stabilizing at last. I wrench my head to look back past the suited man trying to block my view. Wyatt fights the effects of the taser, scrambling forward into Dax, but another sharp zap sends him crumbling again. It doesn’t stop him from snarling my name, outstretching a hand.
Dax curses, stuck beneath Wyatt’s weight. Huxley looks at me longingly, but his body remains taut, forced still by the cold steel pressing against his skull. I catch a final glance of Garrett whispering something into Axel’s ear, hopefully consoling him whilst embracing his shaking body. The door slams closed, cutting me off from those who hold my heart. Instant panic for their safety flares, but I can’t go back and change my decision.
Clinging onto Meg’s arm, we’re dragged down a short passage and thrust into the night. A car is waiting; its rear door has already popped open, and we’re thrown inside. Harrison drops into the passenger seat, his henchman skidding over the hood to jump into the driver’s seat and peel us into the busy main road.
The car swerves sharply as the driver cuts through the traffic, putting distance between us and the casino. The city lights blur outside the window, streaking past in a mess of neon through the windows. I barely feel the jolt of the ride. My fingers are still locked around Meg’s arm, where we’ve been thrust into the back seat, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even flinch.
“Meg,” I whisper, my voice shaking. I shake her arm, trying to anchor her, but she’s never seemed more distant. Her eyes are cast aside, her hair matted. I release my grip, not knowing where or how to touch her. I settle on taking her hands and holding them between us. “Hey, I’m right here. It’s just us.”
Meg blinks a few times, slowly returning to the present. What has happened to her that she can zone out so easily that she doesn't care what happens to her body? Meg pulls back her hands and twists, curling in on herself without looking at me. I can only watch, stunned, as her body presses against the door like she wants to disappear into the metal. Her breathing is shallow, and her head is tilted slightly downward.
I glance toward the front seat, where Harrison is relaxed, his elbow propped against the window, fingers tapping idly against the doorframe. In his other hand is the revolver that churns my stomach. I feel sick just looking at it, not having the time to think of Nixon. To mourn the man I know, regardless of who or what he was to others. Harrison mutters quick instructions to his right-hand man, and although he isn’t looking at us, I feel his attention lingering. We don’t have much time.
I shift, twisting toward Meg. I try to soften my voice, to keep it steady even as my own panic claws at my throat. “Meg, please. Say something.” She still doesn’t acknowledge me. Her blue eyes, those same sharp, knowing eyes that always used to catch mine with a teasing smirk or an exasperated roll, are hollow. A ghost of the girl I knew.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I swallow them down. I can’t cry, nor can I allow the frustration in me to bubble over. I could scream until my lungs burned at the injustice of it all. I’ve finally got her back, have her here to hold, and it’s like she’s not here at all. Swallowing hard, I press my hand over hers, gripping her cold fingers.
“I know you’re scared. I am too. But we’re gonna figure this out, okay? We’re getting out of this.” I promise quietly, hoping that if I can at least bolster her, I will feel a sense of renewed confidence myself. The smallest twitch in her fingers beats against mine, and a rush of hope floods my system. It’s something. Encouraged, I keep going, my voice growing more anxious.
“The boys will come for us. They won’t stop. You know that, right? They’re probably already tearing that place apart, trying to get to us.” Her lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but I also know I can’t do anything to help us without her being at least semi-responsive. I lean closer, wrapping my arms around her body, and this time, I’m not met with the same stiffness.
“You’re not alone anymore, Meg. I’m here now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Finally, her head moves just a fraction, barely a shift in posture, but it’s enough. Enough for me to see the silent tears trailing down her cheeks. Something inside me breaks. She’s crying, but the murkiness in her eyes is not relief. It’s not hope. It’s resignation.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Don’t do that. Don’t give up.” A sob catches in my throat, but I don’t let it out. “I need you, Meg. I’ve been trying to find you. I never gave up on you. Please don’t give up on me.” I plead, my voice cracking. My breath stutters as I drop my forehead against her shoulder, and my body trembles. We’ve come so far, but it suddenly feels like we’ve made no progress at all. “It can’t end like this.”
The car speeds us into oblivion, but I can’t consider anything beyond this back seat right now. Then, so quietly I almost miss it, Meg finally speaks.
“It’s already over.” Meg’s voice is broken. Detached. Like she truly believes there’s nothing left worth living for. Not even me. She turns her head and blinks at me, and with an ache in my chest, I realize she’s already slipped too far. She’s already bracing for the worst.
The car jerks as we take a sudden turn, and Harrison hums in amusement. “You might want to save your breath, sweetheart,” he muses, still not looking back at us. “No sense in trying to fix something that’s already shattered.”
I want to scream. I want to claw at him, to shake Meg, and to fight until my body gives out. But all I can do is tighten my grip and pray that I can still reach her before it’s too late. That the Souls will find us somehow, someway. I must be strong enough to carry the both of us.
It’s as if there’s been a personality shift, from the version of Meg that used to console and tell me nothing was unbeatable, to the introvert I used to be, hiding from this world. Hiding from ever feeling hopeless again, but I’m not completely hopeless now. I know there’s something worth living for. I know someone will save us.