Chapter 40
Cora
William is hours and hours away. That's the only good thing about this entire situation. It will take a very long time for him to get here, and with every second that passes, I imagine Chris coming to his senses.
I stayed quiet because he held a gun to my head when he placed the call. I've never seen a gun in my brother's hand. As scary and awkward as it was for me, he looked right at home holding such a dangerous thing, and it was just one more piece of the puzzle that made no sense to me.
Chris's ability to hide how he felt about everyone in his life and who he really was is scaring the absolute shit out of me. I don't know if anything was real. What makes someone grow up to hate the people who love him? How is his perception of life and Sadie's perception of life so different from mine and William's?
We all needed to meet expectations. We all had our roles to play. There were times I remember hearing young William tell our father that he didn't want to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to go to the movies with his friend. He didn't want to work on acceptance speeches for winning the presidency in his high school senior year. Chris wasn't privileged to that argument because he was young and already in bed when it happened. William fought against who he was expected to be for a very long time, and it wasn't until after our father died that he stepped up and decided that what Dad wanted from him was what he wanted himself. Hell, maybe it's not what he wants at all but he feels obligated like I do with a lot of things my mother did before her death. It's insane how someone’s legacy can be such a noose around someone else's neck.
Chris is no different. He doesn't want to be president. It's as if he has something to prove to our deceased father, and I'm sure it has more to do with being worthy of the same level of attention that he perceived William got.
I feel like I played right into his hands. I knew William was out of town. I'm linked to his calendar, something he provided so I can "think twice about bothering him at important times." I looked this morning because I wanted to discuss Faye's dwindling memory with him so we could work out a plan on how to proceed.
My chin wobbles, the threat of another sobbing session taking over.
"I fucking swear," Chris mutters. "If I didn't need you alive right now."
He growls as if feral with the idea of killing me, and I just know he's keeping me alive so he can kill me in front of William. Destroying his brother is his ultimate goal. He sees William as the problem as if he's the one who asked for all the attention he got from our father. I think Will would've been happier to just be left alone so he could be a kid rather than the forced trips to the office and spending his free time learning the intricacies of how the government works and who is responsible for which part.
"William hates his job," I say, tears still very likely as they burn inside my nose. "He didn't want to be what Dad turned him into."
"He loves the power," Chris snarls, waving that damn gun as if to indicate that Will has control of everything.
"It's an obligation to him," I explain. "Like Chapter One is for me where Mom is concerned. I don't want to work there. I've wasted almost my entire adult life trying to.. what? Hell, I don' t even know. Make her happy? She's dead. It didn't matter what I did with my life, but I felt obligated to carry that on."
"I can't tell if you're trying to talk me out of killing you or you're trying to get me to kill you faster because you've lived such a miserable life."
A tear rolls down my cheek, and with my hands tied behind my back, I have no way to keep it from dripping down my chin.
"Your life would've been miserable, too," I manage. "My point is that none of us are happy. I don't and I know William wouldn't wish this type of obligation on you."
"I'm just as fucking important as you are, Cora. I'm just as fucking capable as William."
I dip my head in agreement. "I know you are, and no matter what, I'll love you."
He shakes his head, lip pulling up in a sneer.
"I don't want nor do I need your fucking love. I can see what you're trying to do, and that shit won't work on me."
I pull my face back when he rushes toward me, the barrel of his gun against my temple, his face so close I feel the warmth of his breath on my face. "Love isn't something I ever needed from anyone. I've gone my whole life without it."
I keep from shaking my head, afraid I've pushed him past the point of no return and any movement might bring this to an end faster.
"William isn't here yet," I say, trying to remind him of his own plan if it prolongs my life just a little longer.
He'll want Will to witness his failure at being able to save me. He wants to strike at him and cause as much damage, as much pain, as he possibly can before he puts him out of his misery.
"Casey begged for his life as well," Chris says as he takes a step back, leaving the tip of his gun against my temple.
I squeeze my eyes closed, tears still pushing past to roll down my cheeks .
Casey Jensik is Christopher's roommate at his dorm in college. He's a nice kid from what I could tell when we met the day Chris started college less than a handful of months ago.
"You hurt him?"
"Didn't touch him," my brother says, a gleefulness in his tone. "But people will do just about anything when threatened with a gun. Climbed up on that chair and slipped that rope around his neck like it was his idea all along."
"Jesus," I sob. "Chris, please. Why?"
"This," he snaps. "This is what pisses me off the most. No one ever listens. I've got a goddamned gun to your head and you're still not paying enough attention to understand."
Rage boils inside of me. This man is responsible for killing my father, my sister, and a woman I've considered a grandmother my entire life, and now he's patronizing me.
I draw in a deep breath.
"You selfish piece of shit. You're not the only fucking person on the goddamned planet, Christopher!" I rage. "Grow the fuck up! You're acting like a snotty fucking kid that isn't getting his way."
"You stupid bitch," he says, lifting the gun right back toward my face.
I'm terrified. I know I'm going to die. If there's any way for me to ease William's suffering before Chris kills him because he doesn't have to witness my death, then that's the best I'll be able to manage.
A crash outside draws his attention enough that the gun swings wide, but before he can point it and aim at the man coming through the doorway, Christopher seizes, the gun in his hand discharging, sending the bullet meant for my head into the hardwood floor.
Chris falls to the ground, body locked tight with two probes from a taser extending from his body .
"Fucking idiot," a guy in full-on commando gear says as he kicks the gun away from Chris's hand, rolls him on his stomach, and places handcuffs on his wrists.
"Baby. Fuck, baby, look at me."
I'm nearly blinded by tears, but the sight of the silver-headed man squatting in front of me is something I never thought I'd see again.
"Help me," I say, fighting against my restraints.
He doesn't pull his hands from my face, but someone else cuts my arms free.
I scream out in pain, my shoulders all but locked in place from how I've been sitting for hours.
"I need a fucking medic!" Eddie yells, and as if pulled from the air a thin man squats down beside me with a bright red bag.
"Is any of this your blood?" the man asks.
"I don't know,” I answer honestly.
"This bump?" the guy asks, pressing a finger to the tender spot on my forehead. "How did that happen?"
"Pickles, I think," I say, a sob coming from my chest.
"Baby, I want to hold you, but they need to know if you're hurt," Eddie says, his hands on my shoulders as he remains crouched in front of me.
"I think I'm okay. He killed Faye. He killed his roommate. He killed my dad." The words bubble out, pain filling every part of me because I never imagined I could be in a situation like this one. "How did I not see this coming?"
"He fooled a lot of people, Cora. I don't want you to worry about any of that right now. Just breathe, baby. We'll get through this together."
I stare into his eyes, noticing the cut on his cheek and the swelling of his own eye. "What happened to you?"
"It doesn't matter," he says, and I can tell that it also had something to do with Christopher.
"I'm so sorry," I say, leaning forward so I can bury my head in his shoulder and cry, but the injury on my forehead makes me scream in pain.
"I think she needs to go to the hospital," the medic says.
"I'll kill every fucking one of you!"
I lift my head and look over Eddie's shoulder, watching as the man I thought was my brother fights against the restraints at his back.
"You bitch!" he spits in my direction. "This isn't over. You're all gonna fucking die. When I'm president—"
The ranting continues even after he's pulled from the cabin.
"How did you find me?" I ask, my shoulders still screaming from how I was restrained.
"I put a tracker on your car," he says, as if it's completely normal to do so.
"That's how you knew I was back in DC?"
Confusion draws his brow tight for a second. "I knew you were headed back to DC because you stopped at a gas station halfway between here and there. I knew you were going back to the same hotel because you're acreature of habit. That's something we're gonna have to talk about, babe. You need to be less predictable. It opens the doors for so many—"
Despite the pain it causes, I lift my arm and press two fingers to his lips.
"If you keep calling me pet names, I'm going to get ideas, Eddie Yarrow."
His smile is slow and there are better times and definitely better places than the here and now for the things I see lighting up his eyes, but I don't think I've ever felt more protected than I do right now, and it's more him than the men swarming about in combat gear.
"You need to go get checked out at the hospital," he says as I try to stand. "Let me help you."
My first instinct is to push him away, to insist that I'm strong enough to do it on my own, but I realize that there's no harm in letting someone care for me. It's okay to be weak every once in a while.
I press my head to his shoulder when he sweeps me up in his arms.
I wince when he fully stands, injuries from my fall back at the house having a much greater effect on my body than I realized.
"I think I might have a concussion," I whisper, my stomach rolling as he carries me out the front door.
"Damn," he whispers. "Let's see what the doctors say at the—"
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Ignore him, baby. He's crazed."
I lift my head, eyes brimming with tears as I see Christopher still struggling against his restraints as the officers try to get him into the back of a squad car.
"You can't fall for a man like him," Chris screams. "You'll ruin the family name. They're all dogs! They're not elite! Cora! Not him!"
Two officers finally get him in the back of the squad car, but that doesn't keep him from trying to kick out the glass.
"He's really rocking that insanity thing, isn't he?" a man says as he approaches.
"Really?" Eddie snaps. "A little compassion, Jericho?"
"Oh shit. Sorry, ma'am."
Instead of even worrying about being offended or snapping at him because this is so much to take in, I simply rest my head back on Eddie's chest.
So long as I can stay in his arms forever, I think I'll be fine. It's when he decides to put me back down that I'll start to struggle.