Chapter Twenty-One #3
My head is shaking over and over as I jump to my feet. “I have to go… find Lem. Make sure he’s okay. God, if he’s hurt, I will rip this entire fucking island to shreds—”
“Oh snap,” he chuckles softly, eyeing me with thrill.
“The Carver está aquí! So cool…”He grabs me by the shoulders, forcing me to stop freaking out and focus.
“Escúchame, Felix. Be careful out there. The walls of the prison are down. There are cartel men everywhere, especially on the east side of the island. They’re searching for him… ”
His voice trails, and he swallows visibly, eyes darkening.
I can only nod, processing what he’s saying, and inferring what he’s not.
“The Ivory,” he rumbles, another distinct sparkle in his eyes when he says the name. “His room is… upstairs? Third floor?”
I nod slowly, gazing at him in concern. “Yea… but you probably shouldn’t go up there. If you escaped…”
He grins. “You let me worry about him. Just don’t get yourself caught.”
He pinches my cheek. And then he’s off, darting away, into the night.
Leaving.
I want to call out, ask him to come with me, because I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared and missing Lem. Finding him would be much easier if I had help.
But he seems determined to handle his own business.
“Wait,” I call after him, and he stops. “You didn’t happen to see my fiancé out there, did you?” He peeks over his shoulder. “He’s a tall, super hot black dude with dreads and like, perfect lips…”
Angel grins. “Trust me, I know what your man looks like. Bueno para ti, carino.”
I know enough Spanish to understand that he’s basically saying some version of slay kween. It makes me smile.
Reminds me of something Ren would say.
My chest cinches. I hope he and Luthor are okay. Joy, Rook, and Velle… I’m sure they’ve got things handled. They always do, even over the last few weeks, when tensions have been suffocating the life out of the mild comforts we once knew in Alabaster Pen.
Maybe getting to them will be my best bet to get Lem back.
Despite Byron and Trevel causing this, I still hope they’re okay too.
“I didn’t see him. Sorry,” Angel mumbles, expression serious as he grips the doorframe. But then he shows me a knowing smirk. “You’ll get him back, though. I know you will. You’re The Carver, querida. Don’t forget that. Anyone who threatens what you love will lose.”
He winks. And then he’s gone, vanishing into the dark hallway. On his own mission to find someone… Only I don’t think he’s going to rescue them.
His words echo in my head as I rush around the room, getting dressed and packing up any supplies I can use, because who knows when or if I’ll be back. Angel was right. It’s not safe here… But it’s definitely not safe near the prison either.
I’m afraid of the unknown waiting out there in the woods. I’m terrified that Lem could be in danger, and that the fall could have started something much bigger than just the reclaiming of Alabaster Pen that Velle was planning.
But none of that matters right now. I have only one objective.
Save my fiancé.
Adrenaline absorbs all the frantic emotions, settling inside me until I’m calm. Ready.
With every step I take, out of our bedroom and down the stairs, I’m purring with a zeal that’s been dormant in me for far too long. But now it’s back.
After all… this is what I do.
The Carver is awake. And he’s ready to play.
Over time, I’ve grown to accept and even embrace my invisibleness.
I used to resent it. A lot.
Never being truly seen… People I liked, thought were cute, or maybe wanted to talk to damn near passing through me like I was a ghost. There’s no way not to take that personally.
Being The Carver meant adopting that identity, regardless of how much it still hurt my feelings most of the time. It was like The Carver was born as a way to accept that I was never going to be the star of the show.
I wasn’t Cam, or Emmanuel… Velle, or Ren… Dash.
They’re vibrant, loud, and magnetic; vivid neon presences you couldn’t ignore if you tried, demanding of full attention.
I was in the shadows. But rather than fighting it, I let it envelope me. And I used it to become something they were forced to acknowledge. Something they’d never forget.
A real-life monster.
That’s the part only the graduates of this stuff will understand. The Carver wasn’t the dark passenger—hello, Dexter reference—lurking within me and begging to be fed. That was Felix Darcey.
The Carver had all the attention on him, but Felix Darcey wanted it. He was starved for it, in fact.
Who knows, maybe I even resented The Carver at times because of this.
Lemuel Love was the first person who saw me and was enraptured. He’s never been anywhere near as fascinated by The Carver as he is by Felix Darcey.
I know he loves us both equally, but only because he loves me exactly as I am; damage, darkness, depravity and all.
Being freed from chains allows you to find the enjoyment in being tied down. I mean, no one wants to have to do something… Human beings relish the freedom to choose.
And so, knowing I’m not invisible anymore has allowed me to really showcase just how invisible I can be… When I want to.
Slinking around a tree, I follow the voices on the other side, intentionally eavesdropping. Gaining intel, as I do.
The Ivory’s men are communicating over their walkie talkies—the ones with separate channels that Velle can’t hear.
I’m praying for any mention of Lem that could help me, but so far nothing.
Just more routes and attack plans, and we’re gonna hit ‘em here and we’re gonna hit ‘em hard blah blah freaking blah.
Jeez, guys. Come up with some new material already.
Clearly, their plans aren’t working as well as they’d hoped, since Velle and his team are very much still holding firm in their refusal to stand down or hand the prison back over to The Ivory.
My intention was never to be their eyes on the outside. It sort of just happened.
The most frustrating thing was that when Angel set me free and I ran out into the woods looking for Lem, he was already back in the mansion.
But by the time I got out there, cartel men were swarming around the crash site, as they call it—where the guard tower fell on the East Wing.
They had the whole east side of the island covered, as well as the north, since that’s where the mansion is, meaning I couldn’t get back to him.
We probably missed each other by less than fifteen minutes… It was infuriating.
That was when I discovered that the west—specifically the southwest coast and the woods leading inward, toward the old armory—was open and completely unguarded. So that was where I set up shop.
It started purely out of self-preservation.
There was no one over there, so I made a little campsite out of our spot—the large, flat rock between two of the tallest trees where Lem and I would occasionally have picnics and make out.
This became my base of operations, if you will.
I just needed a place to hide out while I devised a plan, scoped out the situation, and figured out how to get Lem back.
I also knew that if Lem were able, he would look for me there.
The first of the Warden’s men I killed was just out of happenstance.
I was scarfing down a granola bar when I heard footsteps.
The woods were muddy as shit from the storm, fallen trees and branches everywhere, meaning I was immediately filthy, and there were ample hiding spots.
This camouflage worked well enough that the cartel men didn’t even see me.
I sat quietly, blending into the trees and leaves as the first guy walked right out in front of me. So I slit his throat.
I mean, what else was I supposed to do?
When the other guy came to check on his friend, I stabbed the shit out of him a bunch of times—I might have gone at it a few seconds longer than necessary, because it had just been so long.
Like that first drunken stop at Lucky Burger after dieting for fucking months.
It felt great. Man, was I high. I just sat there, breathing and chuckling, in a pool of blood and body parts for minutes.
But when I came to, I realized that I had their walkies. I could intercept their communications and maybe find out where Lem was. Perfect timing too, because I overheard something about the doctors being in the mansion.
I knew The Ivory was looking for me. I knew he wanted me back, for multiple reasons, but mainly to use me as leverage against Lemuel, and I’d briefly considered turning myself in if they’d just let Lem go free. But I also knew I could never trust Manuel Blanco.
No matter how much it killed me to think of what they might be doing to Lem, I had to hold out. Come up with a plan to get him back without them capturing me and escape so he could never get to either of us again.
That’s what I’ve been doing ever since. Using every opportunity to take out any cartel soldiers who venture west and just hoping for a break. Even the tiniest distraction that might get me close enough to the mansion to get inside and rescue Lemuel.
Like he did for me.
Being invisible does still have its advantages. As does being quiet and highly skilled with a knife. And I guess not caring if you’ve been covered in mud and human remains, and haven’t showered in weeks.
Velle knows I’m out here, so he has his guys run supplies out to me in drops every couple of days. Payment for being his hidden assassin, I suppose. We’ve passed a few notes back and forth, but all we’ve been able to verify so far is that Lem is alive and being held in the mansion.
It’s not enough. I need to get in there.
I don’t blame Velle. He can’t risk the lives of his men to save Lemuel when he’s technically alright—as far as we know, anyway.
So here I am, closer to the mansion than I have been since I left it. Filthy, exhausted… Running on goddamn fumes and the tiniest rations of peanut butter and beef jerky for survival, letting the anger and adrenaline keep me from passing the fuck out in defeat.