Chapter 30 #7
"Hold on," Marcel says, stepping in his way, arms crossed. "Not yet. I’ve been waiting for this. I’m going to enjoy it thoroughly. We can connect in a minute."
Gunman mirrors his stance, arms crossed.
"The risk is too high. Police, FBI, they’re all already looking for him. We finish this fast. Those are the orders."
If he thinks Marcel takes orders from anyone, he’s wrong.
Marcel moves right in front of the table where I now notice some kind of device that looks like a transmitter with a screen. Edgar steps beside him.
"No."
"Move," Gunman hisses.
"You give me thirty minutes, then they’re yours. That was the deal."
"I don’t know anything about that deal. Move or—"
Marcel pulls a handgun and points it straight at him.
"That was the deal. And it stands."
I raise my eyebrows. Wow. Marcel really went all in, from a wild college activist to a full-on terrorist. And a gun? He, who was so adamantly against civilians owning guns? Fucking hypocrite.
Blue watches all of this with that same strange calm.
The NFH guy lets out an angry growl, staring down the barrel.
"You’ll regret this, breeder, but fine. You get your fucking thirty minutes."
"Oh, I get them? How generous. Now shoo, go stand by the wall, where you belong," Marcel says, waving him off.
I can still hear him murmuring under his breath, so quietly it’s beyond a beta’s range of hearing, "Useless betas…"
Well, if I were him, I wouldn’t be so blatant with that attitude.
Everyone who actually matters in NFH is a beta.
Doesn’t matter how close they’ve gotten with Marcel or how useful he is to them, they joined this organization because of a deep hatred toward fertile types, alphas and omegas.
Those are the ones they see as alien invaders on this planet, the ones they want wiped out from the population, the extraterrestrials who have no right to exist on Earth.
It’s hard for me to believe that with views like that, Gunman is just calmly accepting Marcel’s leadership. But he leans back against the wall anyway, arms crossed.
Marcel, still holding the gun, turns toward Blue.
His face stretches into a grin that’s almost glowing with triumph, but it’s nothing like the one he had when he first saw me.
"I’ve been dreaming about this moment for so long that it still doesn’t feel real, Blue Lowen himself at my mercy… or lack of it."
Marcel steps right up to Blue, cocks his head, and looks him over like he’s taking inventory.
They really do look alike. Anyone watching would immediately get why Marcel used to be my type and why Blue is now. I clearly have a pattern, or whatever they call an imprint of a perfect mate.
But the biggest similarity isn’t how they look.
It’s probably that stubborn refusal to back down when they want something.
"So what’s your plan, Marcel?" I growl.
"You can shut up now, alpha, let the smart people talk."
I’m so pissed I actually do shut up, not because he told me to, but because if I open my mouth right now, it’s going to be nothing but a stream of curses and I’ll just prove his point.
"Where are Simon Durst and Gerard Vendel? They’re innocent. They have nothing to do with this."
I blink. The first thing Blue asks about is his staff, not his own chances of getting out alive. I guess that’s the difference between us. I just want to curse mindlessly, and Blue stays clear-headed, feeling responsible for the people who work for him.
Marcel shrugs. "I don’t give a damn. There’s a chance NFH let them live since they’re betas."
"A chance? Is that supposed to—"
"Oookay, I’m the one asking the questions here. And now it’s time for me to introduce myself!" Marcel cuts him off. "I’m Marcel Miroux. You could say I’m your number one anti-fan. I’ve already met your lawyers. We had a nice talk not long after I organized the attack on your company’s facility."
Blue narrows his eyes.
"That’s interesting, Mr. Miroux. In court, you testified under oath that you were only carrying out orders from Gabriel Nolan, who you claimed was the main organizer ‘obsessed with hatred for Malden.’"
Marcel snorts. "If you ever believed that, then I seriously overestimated your intelligence."
Blue shrugs.
"I hired him as my personal bodyguard and put him closer to me than anyone else, so you could say I saw through your bullshit."
Marcel’s mouth curls slightly into a contemptuous grimace.
"Or maybe it just means you’re naive? Gabriel didn’t turn out as effective as I hoped. Unfortunately, he has a number of weaknesses that make him a poor soldier."
"Like what?" I cut in, irritated at being talked about like I’m not even here. This is so annoying! "Having a moral backbone? Not wanting to kill innocent people who didn’t even work for Malden?"
Marcel just scoffs.
"You’re such a silly goose, Gabriel. And I underestimated the depth of your… silliness. But I won’t make any more mistakes, I assure you."
"I bet you’ll still do it," I mutter under my breath, but he turns back to Blue.
"I saw Gabriel’s little speech defending you on TV.
I have to admit, I laughed my ass off. He obviously wants to get into your pants.
He’s so predictable. Did you know he used to give me almost his entire paycheck from those underground fights?
Poor paypig covered everything, the apartment, the van, expenses, food, all of it just to get access to my hole. But I have standards."
"You fucked half the team, slut! Even this loser David, who eats his own boogers when no one’s looking and has the worst grades in the class, so yeah, I’m going to question those so-called ‘standards’."
Edgar shoots a short glance at Marcel. Didn’t he know? Well. Now he knows.
"David is our college chancellor’s nephew! It was strategic," Marcel hisses.
I’m so deep in fury I almost see red.
"Strategic whoring? Exhibit two. Tom. He’s so strung out he barely knows what planet he’s on, and he’s a pathetic slacker who cheats on every exam."
Another eyebrow rises on Edgar’s face. Oh, obviously the poor idiot had no idea about that either.
"Exhibit three, Edgar. I guess that’s strategic too? Wealthy daddy? Fucking himbo, spoiled idiot with nothing but a pretty face, who paid me seventeen times to write his essays, do his stats assignments, and help him pass statistical math!"
Edgar practically jumps when he hears that. I’m not sure if he’s reacting to the jab or to the fact that his own secret just got dragged out.
"Shut the fuck up, idiot!" he mutters.
Marcel lifts his brows slightly and looks at him like that actually surprised him.
Yeah, Edgar probably didn’t want to come off like a dumb airhead in front of Marcel, who had always been a straight-A student without even trying that hard, but oh well, things happen.
"You surround yourself with morons, so let’s not pretend you have any standards," I sum up.
Marcel clenches his jaw and makes a small gesture toward Edgar, who lights up with a sadistic grin.
Right away, I run through the scenarios again and pick the one where the hit does the least damage possible, and on top of that, mostly because he has no idea how to properly make a fist, Edgar lands it in such a way that he ends up wincing in pain, and I’m only slightly rattled.
"Guess it’s time to start a game he’s not gonna like," Edgar growls.
"Patience, Eddie," Marcel says shortly and turns back to Blue, who’s been watching all of this through narrowed eyes.
"I’ve always wondered whether your famous genius is real or just talk, and whether you’re actually just a craftsman with no flair.
We’re about to find out. I figured if you solve a few philosophical and logical problems for me, I might make you suffer a little less.
And I might even spare Gabriel a bit too. "
I catch Gunman shifting impatiently from one foot to the other, and Edgar looks slightly surprised.
"You think I’m going to play along before I know what the game is?" Blue asks.
Marcel walks up to me, then stops behind my back, and I hear a soft sound.
A thin cord appears in his hand, identical to the one he used to tie my wrists and ankles.
He slips it around my neck but, for now, keeps it loose.
"I think you will," Marcel says coldly. In his voice, I hear the tones I’ve already learned to recognize, psychopathic, ruthless.
Blue looks at him for a moment, then says,
"You can never win with me, Marcel. Not because you don’t have a brain, but because you lack… heart. Although your brain may not be that sharp, after all. There is at least one proof of that which I’ve already seen."
Marcel goes still. Then he laughs, short and ugly.
"You think you can talk down to me?" he snaps.
Blue doesn’t even blink. Marcel’s smile twists.
"It’s you I kidnapped," he says. "It’s you who’s tied to a chair."
Blue’s voice stays level. "Illusion of control."
Marcel’s expression hardens even more. I would advise Blue not to provoke Marcel like this, but I should probably take the same advice, since I did plenty of provoking myself.
But maybe his provocation has a hidden purpose?
Marcel shoots back. "In the end, facts matter. You didn’t see it coming. You’re sitting here on my terms, waiting on my next move."
The silence drops, the reality of our situation pressing down on me.
But Blue just looks at Marcel coldly.
"You’re confusing a momentary advantage with a governing principle," he says. "It’s a common mistake made by people who fail to see the big picture."
Marcel’s jaw tightens. "You’re in no position to lecture me," he grumbles.
"And yet you keep giving me material," Blue replies, almost lazily. "With everything you say and do."
A flicker of anger crosses Marcel’s face, and he drops the line from my neck and rushes toward Blue.
"You didn’t predict this, genius," he says in irritation. "That alone proves you’re not as smart as you think."
Blue tilts his head slightly. Well, I guess his provocations made Marcel redirect his attention to him and away from the thin cord, so it kinda worked.