6. IVY
6
IVY
If I don’t escape, Mom will die.
The damp, musty air of the basement burned my nostrils as I studied Daniel, my mind racing to find a way out of this nightmare. Mom’s life hung in the balance, the warmth of her love a painful contrast to the cold metal of the handcuffs biting into my wrists.
My gaze shot toward the staircase, its gray concrete winding upward into a shadowy tunnel that undoubtedly concealed my remaining captors. If I timed it just right, maybe, just maybe, I could make a break for it and pray I could handle whatever might be at the top, but right now, Daniel stood a mere four feet in front of me.
He seemed like such a contradiction—evil enough to kidnap and kill us, but humane enough to at least tell me why he was doing it. I was no expert, but maybe that spoke to a man who wasn’t evil to his core, and if that was true, maybe I could appeal to the better part of him?
“You don’t need to hurt my mom,” I said, my voice trembling slightly as I tried to maintain my composure.
He hadn’t denied that he’d dated her with the agenda of keeping an eye on my father—maybe that was another reason Mom and Dad hadn’t gotten bitter in the divorce, by the way. Maybe Daniel had been in Mom’s ear, encouraging her to stay good to him, to be there for him. Serving two purposes—to look like the “good” guy to her and keep him in the know of what my father was up to. I’d like to think Mom would have been kind to Dad regardless, but that wasn’t the point.
“Maybe you started dating her with an ulterior motive, but you spent two years with her. Surely, you grew to care at least a little about her, so please, don’t hurt her.”
“I don’t want to do this, Ivy. But my family’s lives are at stake if I don’t.” Daniel rubbed his eye, and when he spoke, his tone softened slightly. “Nothing personal.”
His words felt like a knife twisting in my diaphragm.
“Considering you dated my mom for two years, I would argue it’s very fucking personal,” I spat, anger momentarily overshadowing my fear.
The handcuff dangled on the bridge of my hand. If Daniel looked closely, he would see that I was one tiny tug away from freedom.
He squatted, the gun glistening from the fluorescent light. Could I rip my hand from the cuff and grab it fast enough? Could I overpower him? Being in the CIA, his fighting skills probably surpassed my own. My mind raced, calculating the risks.
“As I explained?—”
“If you’re worried about her asking questions, you don’t have to kill her for that. Let me write her a letter. I’ll tell her goodbye, explaining that I couldn’t take it anymore and that I left to start a new life.” My hands shook as I spoke.
“She won’t believe that.”
“I’ll make her believe it,” I pleaded. “Give me a pen and paper.” My voice was trembling now, too.
“You and I both know she’s not going to believe a note you write.”
“Then, let me call her.” Please, please, let me save her. “I won’t say anything to tip her off. All I care about is saving her.”
I blinked back tears, waiting for him to agree, but he remained silent while a look of pity flashed through his features.
“Then, you come up with an idea,” I begged. “Anything. I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt her.”
“That ship has sailed, Ivy.”
The knife in my diaphragm twisted.
“You could save her if you wanted to.” I glared at him. “You’re choosing to kill us both. Why?”
Daniel’s sigh hinted at impatience now as he checked the time.
“You expect me to believe this is all because I was poking into my dad’s death?”
He shrugged. “I never intended for it to come to this.” But his tone was void of emotion or remorse, more like what a bummer that my original plan backfired, and now, it’s snowballed .
He scratched his temple with the gun’s barrel. I willed it to explode into his skull, but I wasn’t that lucky.
And now that I thought about it—now that I wasn’t momentarily consumed with the revelation my father was murdered—what was Daniel’s role in that whole weapons thing to begin with? He was CIA. If my dad had stumbled onto a massive weapons ring and had tried to help law enforcement, why would the CIA want to stop him? Why kill him?
Dad wasn’t a threat to this country; he was a threat to Vosch. Vosch, who Daniel and Grayson were supposed to kill in that garage. Vosch, who suspiciously evaded that assassination. Almost like…
He was tipped off.
“You’re working for Vosch. That’s what this is really about!”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
He cocked his head. “Vosch is more powerful than you can imagine. He doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“So, you’re just his puppet then? Doing his dirty work?”
“You have no idea the position I’m in. He threatened my family, my son in particular. What choice did I have?”
“This is you protecting your family?”
“You think this was easy for me? I never wanted it to come to this. But your father left me no choice when he refused to back down. So, yes, I had to protect my family, no matter the cost, because as I said, Vosch is a powerful man.”
“Sure. Tell yourself you’re being noble here, a good old family guy. Tell me, does your family know you spent two years sleeping with another woman just to keep tabs on some guy for Vosch?”
His lips thinned. “You think if you were given the same ultimatum, you would have chosen differently?”
“There is nothing anyone could say to make me help Vosch and his criminal enterprise.”
“That’s what everyone thinks. Until it happens to them. But once he hurts someone you love…trust me, sweetheart, your tune would change.”
“It wouldn’t.”
“You have no idea what he’s capable of! What he did to my son…” He shook his head. “There’s no limit to what a father will do to protect his child.”
I wondered darkly how many bodies he’d left in his wake, then. How many lives had been sacrificed for his so-called protection?
“So, you’re okay with having killed my father.”
“I didn’t shoot your father.”
Now, he was contradicting himself. He’d already confessed that covering up my father’s murder was the reason he had to kill me. And by the way, how dare he try to justify it behind fear, like he had no choice. He was a leader in a CIA organization. Surely, he, of all people, could arrange protection for his family, but did he? No. He let that fear consume him; he let himself become part of Vosch’s organization.
And Vosch grew more powerful because of it.
If he’d kill my mother for asking questions, what the hell would he do to Grayson—a loose end who’d betrayed Daniel’s orders?
Daniel stepped away from me—to go sulk, presumably—but when he did, my attention darted between the staircase and my captor. Daniel’s gaze flickered away for just a moment, and adrenaline surged through me.
Now .
I yanked my right hand, the silver cuff falling free with a clank against the metal pipe as I jumped up and charged toward the staircase. My thighs burned with adrenaline, my feet pounding on the cement floor as the chilly air rushed into my lungs with each determined gasp. And then I leaped up two stairs, then four, then?—
WHAM.
Blinding pain exploded through my chest as it slammed into the staircase from the shove to my back. Then, my ankle jerked so hard, I flew down the steps and landed on the cement floor, my head cracking.
Stars exploded across my vision. Blinking hard, I rolled over and found myself staring down the barrel of the gun once more.
“Ivy,” he snapped. “You don’t need to make this harder than it’ll already be for you.”
I punched his wrist, knocking the gun’s aim away from me.
BAM.
A fragment of cement spit dust from the stray bullet.
I lunged to my feet, fighting a wave of dizziness, and sent Daniel stumbling back with an oof after my foot connected with his stomach.
But my victory was short-lived. Shouts and thudding footsteps pounded down the stairs as his minions rushed to his aid, their hands clamping around my arms like vises.
“Get off me!” I thrashed and kicked, and though I landed some good blows, they got me back in those damn cuffs, this time so tightly that the metal cut into my flesh.
Daniel stood slowly, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. His face was red—be it from anger or the humiliation of having to be rescued by his goons, I wasn’t sure—but the glare in his eyes, the methodical steps he took toward me, confirmed that any hope of appealing to the man he once was…
Was gone.
The only one left was the monster who’d done Vosch’s bidding.
I was screwed. Really, truly screwed.
And so was my mom.
My chest heaved with deep breaths.
“All our actions have a price,” Daniel lectured. “And your little stunt just signed Grayson’s death certificate.”
I blinked back tears Daniel didn’t deserve to see. Chances were, he’d been planning on killing Grayson anyway, but what if I was wrong? What if Daniel had been planning on trying to reason with him or attempt to recruit him or something? This meant that I had just cost Grayson his life.
“You’re a monster,” I accused. “You claim you’re doing this to protect your family, but part of you gets off on doing this.” On the power.
“That so?” Daniel cocked his head, his neck tense. “Well then, since I’m just a monster, I might as well play the part and show you what a monster would do.” He let three seconds pass. “I’m going to force Grayson to watch as I torture and kill you.”
The edges of my vision tunneled to pinpricks.
“There’s nothing good left in you,” I spat. “You’re evil.”
“You think you’re so much better?”
“I’m not a cold-blooded murderer who kills innocent people,” I said.
“Ah, but Grayson is.” Daniel’s words were heavy with accusation.
My stomach turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Daniel’s chest swelled as he glared at me.
“Grayson is the one who killed your father.”