Chapter Forty-Seven
Well, then.
This is an unexpected turn of events.
Although, the more I’m thinking about it, the more I feel like it makes perfect sense.
The voice from inside that windowless cell in the East Wing… The one who spoke to me about revenge. Turns out it belonged to this bloke.
Manuel Blanco’s little bird, locked away in his birdcage of isolation.
I’ve been obsessively wondering who was in here since I followed The Ivory down here a week or so ago.
I’ve been back since, and got close last night, but he showed up and I had to dive into the bushes.
The sounds of amorous activity were rather distinct before I slipped away, so I knew whomever this prisoner was, they were shagging The Ivory.
Either willingly or… less than. I didn’t want to be a nosy little creeper, so I didn’t listen. However, I can say it sounded… well-received.
It seems quite fitting that it’s the same lad who was imprisoned in Alabaster Pen as well. He did seem to be rife with hostile clarity when we spoke about The Ivory in the East. So I suppose, one cell to the next, then.
Though I must admit, this is far nicer than any cell I’ve ever seen. Yes, it’s dark, and I can’t see much detail, but still. It smells nice. There’s a bed, furniture…
There’s a bloody en suite, for Christ’s sake.
“This is the Four Seasons compared to even the comfiest room in the Pen, yea?” I ask, sort of speaking to myself more than anything as I wander around the flat, touching things.
“Who are you?” The lad asks, warily standing at a safe distance.
I get it. He’s been a prisoner for so long. The poor thing is like a shelter animal.
“Why do you have the key…?”
“Right, my apologies.” I face him. As my eyes adjust to take in the stunning form before me, I have nothing but curiosity. “My name is Trevel Fenwick, love. What’s yours?”
“Angel,” he says. “Angel Alvarez.
My heart comes to a full stop, all the air whooshing out of my lungs.
Alvarez…
As in…
“It’s you,” I whisper in fascination.
My head is spinning.
This must be the person The Ivory had thought I’d killed…
“Yea, you were speaking to me through that cell door,” he murmurs. “In the East Wing, right?”
He’s obviously unaware of what I’m thinking. I take it The Ivory didn’t tell him those details…
“Correct.” I offer a kind smile.
“You’re dating Byron,” he says innocently.
But my smile is now gone. It dies in an instant, and I’m bleeding from the jagged crack running down the middle of my heart.
Fuck, that hurts…
“Um, no,” I choke, clearing my throat. “Not anymore. You see this?”
I step closer, pointing out the split in my lip, the dried blood, and the swelling around my eye.
Angel makes a face, expressing empathy and kindness. I like him already. “Eesh… What happened?”
“Byron did that to me.” I absentmindedly rub the soreness in my jaw. “He’s got a hell of a right hook. Remember that in case you ever decide to fuck him over…”
I sniff, fighting the pressure building behind my eyes. I’d been hoping to ignore what just happened for as long as possible.
Clearly, it’ll take more than twenty minutes to forget the worst moment of my life…
And that’s coming from me, the walking curse. My life has been nothing but tragedy.
Now the first thing that had given my shadowed existence any light in so long has been snuffed out. And I have only myself to blame, as per usual.
“I’m sorry,” Angel offers, and I believe he truly is. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t get my revenge, and I just got hit with an emotional right hook, or two…”
He glances at the floor, radiating a similar sort of heartache, only I can tell it’s from the opposite side. He’s the Byron in his relationship, and his heart’s been buggered to hell by his own tall, pale, menace to society.
Bollocks… Am I as bad as Manuel Blanco now??
“It doesn’t,” I grunt. “But for what it’s worth, I think maybe you dodged a bullet, yea? I mean, I understand the premise of falling for your captor, but I think it only ever ends well in works of sexy fiction.”
He snorts, but shakes it off, forehead lining as he peers at me. “You still haven’t told me how you got the key…”
“I lifted it from the evil son of a bitch’s pocket.” I smirk, holding up the skeleton key. “Pretty brilliant, I know. Not to toot my own horn, but I haven’t picked a pocket in well over five years, so the fact that I’ve still got it was quite satis—”
“What’s going on out there?” He impatiently interrupts my nattering on. “Why are the lights out?”
“I’m not entirely certain, but I think the power was cut as a sort of distraction,” I tell him. “The Governor was on his way here, and it wasn’t a good thing for… well, anyone, really. I can only hope they made it out safely…”
My chest aches even more fervently at the idea of Byron running around in danger. Of his being caught by Governor Russo, the man responsible for ruining his life.
I wish I could go after him. I would, if I didn’t think it would upset him even more than he already is. But maybe I still should…
In case he needs a human shield or something.
Knowing him, he’d hate that too. My sweet fury is so very stubborn. He’d rather take a bullet than let me take one for him.
God, I miss him already.
It’s been less than an hour since our relationship ended, but it already feels like an eternity. We were just getting bloody started… It was finally evolving into something real, and I ruined it in spectacular fashion, as I do.
How am I going to get through the rest of my life without him?
“Wait, were you and Byron being held prisoner here??” Angel squeaks, a look of horror on his perfectly symmetrical face.
“No…” I sigh. “Well, yes. It’s complicated.
Technically we weren’t allowed to leave, but it had been our decision to come here in the first place.
Mine, that is. Byron only went along with it for me, but I knew all along he wanted to be with his mates, in the prison.
It was my fault they’d been separated… Me and my bloody revenge. ”
“I take it you didn’t get it either?” He blinks.
“Oh, I got it. Turns out you were right. The best revenge is not needing it. Wish I had listened to you before I spent a week torturing Lemuel over some petty toss…”
Fucking hell, I really hate myself. I should just throw myself over the cliff and be done with it.
“Hang on, were you the one who tied up Felix Darcey?” The subtlest of smirks graces his lips. My head cocks, and he snorts. “Wow, that’s funny. I’m sorry, I’m the one who let him go.”
“That’s fine.” I wave him off. “He didn’t deserve to be tied up like that, anyway.
Well, he probably did, but not by me. It was all just a big misunderstanding.
But it’s alright because Lemuel is free, and so is Felix, and they’re probably reuniting right now, snogging it up like a couple of randy sailors… ”
Angel is gawking at me like I’m speaking Klingon.
“Sorry. I get extra British when I’m jealous and heartbroken and fucking miserable.”
He pouts. “What did you do…? To make him kick your ass and leave you behind?”
I huff, shaking my head. “I lied to him. About something so bloody stupid and unnecessarily hurtful.
“I’m sure you had your reasons…” he hums. “Even if they were petty and ridiculous, they still mattered to you in the moment.”
I stare at him for a few seconds, considering this. He’s actually right…
Sure, my reason for not telling Byron that his best friends were actually alive was immature, selfish, and downright idiotic.
But at the time, while it was happening, it made sense to me.
It’s not as if I would never tell him the truth, I just…
withheld the information longer than I should have because I was afraid of what it would do to our new relationship, which was already so weak it was basically in an aqualung.
In my efforts to protect it, I wound up pulling the plug myself.
“Yea, great job, mate,” the voice echoes, but I close my eyes to will it away.
Not now. Go away.
I don’t… need you anymore.
“You know, you’re rather wise, Angel Alvarez?” I distract myself with my new mate.
Also known as the correct Alvarez twin.
“Yea, well, some good it’s doing me,” he sighs. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m locked in a fucking cage. And not that I should be admitting this, but I’ve had more than a few opportunities to break out.”
Blinking at him, I consider what, if any, words of wisdom I could offer him right now.
It’s grown eerily quiet inside this mansion, and I’m not sure what that means…
But before I can think about it, a burst of gunfire widens both of our eyes. It’s far enough away that I’m not concerned for us… But that’s not a comfort.
Because Byron is out there.
The pops continue on and they don’t stop. It sounds like a battle is being fought outside, somewhere between us and the prison.
“What do you think is happening?” Angel asks nervously. “That’s… more than usual.”
“Nothing good.” I rub my eyes.
I have to do something. I don’t care if Byron hates me. I can’t just sit here in this mansion while he’s out there, likely being shot at.
My collar is finally off. There’s nothing holding me here anymore. I need to help if I can.
Peeking at Angel, an idea presents itself. One that could very well get me killed.
But it’s the right thing to do… To help Velle and his team—Byron’s family. Help them put an end to this, once and for all.
“The Ivory was searching for you for a while before he finally caught you…” I murmur to Angel. “Wasn’t he?”
His green eyes are wide, glistening with the answer to that question, and the hurt it brings him, for reasons that aren’t mine to understand.
All I know is that if he agrees to come with me, it could mean the difference between an all-out war that will ultimately go nowhere… And the end.
Assuming The Ivory won’t slaughter everyone to get his pet back. But after seeing how long Officer Chevelle has lasted in this fight, I believe he is smart enough to take this opportunity and use it to bring Manuel Blanco to his knees.