Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Ikept running.
I made it into the neo-gothic building, skidding around the corridor to the elevators, and pounded on the UP button.
My heart punched against my ribs. “Come on!”
The elevator dinged open, and two women spilled out laughing, one tugging the other by the hand. I squeezed past them and pressed for the 32nd floor, once, twice, three times.
The doors grated shut, and each second passing made it feel like the elevator was being manually lifted. I shifted my weight, my hands clamped into balls at my side. I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming. An age later, the doors squealed open and I skidded into the party.
Tens of students and lecturers chattered over a live Bach pianoforte, popping hors d'oeuvres into their mouths. Through the thick pack of champagne-drinking tuxedos and gowns, Quinn and Hunter weren’t anywhere to be seen.
Darting around a waiter in a golden waistcoat balancing a tray of caviar, I spotted Hannah near a large bookshelf, leaning against Roger, who was playing with the ends of her hair.
I pushed my way to her, stumbling over my shoelace. “Have you seen Quinn and Shannon? Or Hunter and Mitch?”
Hannah tilted her head. “Are you okay, Liam?”
“No,” I said, scanning the crowd once more. “Have you seen anyone?”
“Is Hunter the one in the wheelchair?” Hannah asked. “I saw him and another guy head into the bathrooms ten minutes ago—”
I zipped to the bathrooms, banging my shoulder against the door in my hurry. It swung in. Cold air whistled through a partially open window, but otherwise it was unoccupied—
No.
An empty wheelchair sat in an open stall, a camera bag hanging on the back—
My head pounded, palms sweated, stomach crunched at the terror that ripped through me. All I could think about was that threat. I saw The Raven thrown from the top of the Cathedral of Learning, tumbling, head over heels, screams lost to the rushing wind . . .
“Hunter?” I whispered, pivoting to a sharp arc as a breeze whistled again.
A splotch of blue wedged at the corner of the windowsill caught my eye, furthering the trepidation. Blue rose petals.
Quinn.
With trembling fingers, I called the police again and told them there was an assault in progress. “Hurry, 32nd floor of the Cathedral of Learning.”
“Police are on their way.”
“They’re outside the bathrooms.”
“Remain where you are . . .”
A grunting cry stung through the window gap.
The phone dropped from my grip and clattered against the tile.
I pushed on the foiled glass. Meeting resistance, I shoved my shoulder against it, wedging it open.
I thought I’d made a fair amount of noise, but the direction of the wind and traffic and beeping horns below worked in my favor.
A dark, stone balcony stared at me, framed by an inky sky and a smattering of city lights.
“What are you going do about it, Raven?”
A judgment and a dare all at once.
Thwack!
A gurgled gasp, followed by a cry.
Sneaking out of the window, I tiptoed to the edge of the building. My hands and cheek pressed against cold, pocked concrete, and I peered around the edge of the cornered balcony.
I absorbed the scene like I had Freddy’s punch to my gut. It took all my effort not to fold in on myself and sink into a useless puddle.
Jack stood with a gun pointed toward the ground, his body turned away from me toward Hunter, who’d been dragged into the corner of the balcony and slumped there. Mitch crouched at his side, mumbling repeatedly how sorry he was but claiming he didn’t have a choice.
Jack’s been working with someone to gather information, lure out The Raven.
Everything about Mitch had been a lie? But he seemed genuine. Seemed like he really cared about Hunter—
Wait. He studied improvisational theater. Was he really that good of an actor? Was he gay at all? Had this whole thing been a set up from the moment we met?
Queasiness flared up my throat.
And I set that upon Hunter.
God, had that moment when he banged into me again at the café been part of this plan?
My weight sagged against the building as if I’d been pushed from behind, but it was Mitch’s betrayal that weighed me down. It was the blood dripping from the corner of Hunter’s mouth.
I thought of the moment in my office when Mitch casually held my stapler. I wanted to slam my fist down on it and puncture him, the same way he was doing to my friend.
Blinking back something hot and wet, I prayed he would be okay.
I’d never prayed before, it didn’t seem like a practical thing to do, but right now .
. . now I was beyond practical. It was as if I were a puppet and my master was tugging invisible strings—strings that made me want to throw up and cry and punch something.
At least Hunter seemed to be taking this calmly. His blue eyes clasped onto me for a second before he darted his gaze to the side.
I followed it to The Raven, standing in those tightly-fitting boots Garret had mentioned, cargo pants, leather gloves, and a navy jacket with a large peaked hood, angled toward the ground.
From here it was easy to see how she could have been mistaken for a guy.
As she lifted her head, I caught a glimpse of her shadowed face. Now I knew who it was, I could see it. Her. Shannon.
Quinn stood to the left, rubbing the back of his head like he’d been shoved hard against the side of the building and had knocked it badly. He braced an arm around Shannon, stepping on the blue rose bouquet choked of life at his feet.
Shannon urged forward, but Quinn wrapped his arms around her waist and held her back. He too was calm, but there was the undeniable glow of fear lighting his face a pale green.
“Don’t, Shan,” Quinn said softly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Is this why you kept trying to prevent me from doing this?” The hood shifted, revealing Shannon’s cold blue eyes trained intently on Mitch. She shuddered, and her voice came out strained. “People like them and victims like Travis are the reason I wanted to be out there.”
“I’m sorry, but—” She stomped on Quinn’s foot and pulled at his thumbs, freeing herself, and lunged toward Jack.
He lifted his gun and pointed at the bird tattoo peeking through Hunter’s ripped shirt. “Stay back.”
“Let my brother go.”
“I’ll let him go,” Jack said. I glanced toward the window praying for the police to hurry up. “After I’ve ruined your life the way you ruined my brother’s.”
My breath shook. What could I do to help the situation? With only a pen, a notebook, and a cellphone, the answer was painful. Not much.
I took out the pen and notebook. At least by annotating the situation, I could give the police the best possible eyewitness account. I wrote faster than I ever had before, leaving out any details depicting Shannon as The Raven. Something I didn’t think about, but knew instinctively I had to do.
Quinn’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and then he spoke carefully, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret for the rest of your life, man.”
Jack swung the gun toward Quinn, his hand shaking, voice pitching. “He was there for me when no one else was. I owe it to him to exact justice.”
Shannon swore, “You son of a bitch. Why? Why do you attack men just because they love other men?”
Jack cocked the gun at the same time as his head. “My brother cared about that shit. I only care about who got my brother incarcerated. I figured the best way to find you was by following the trend.”
Quinn grabbed Shannon before she lunged, and he held her back against his chest once more. He whispered something in her ear. Perhaps something to cool her down. Quinn said firmly, “That’s your idea of justice? It’ll just get you thrown in prison, right alongside your brother.”
Jack let out a gurgled sound, as if his emotions were getting the better of him. He loved his brother, that was clear. “Maybe, but I’m going to make sure The Raven goes down with me.”
The safety unlatched, a distinctive click sounded in the still air, and that’s when I knew I had something else with me that could tip the scales.
Surprise.
I dropped my notebook, stole two steps and leaped on Jack’s back as his finger went trigger-happy. My momentum knocked him forward as the gun fired.
We hit the ground with a heavy thwump! I dug my pen into his weapon-arm with all my strength as he bucked underneath me, trying to chuck me off. Thanks to self-defense lessons, I knew how to throw him off his balance—
“You fuck!”
I locked my hands around his wrist as Quinn yelled. I tipped suddenly, shoulders hitting stone.
The gun clattered as it dropped from Jack’s hand, sliding toward Shannon’s feet.
Suddenly Quinn was there, wrestling with Jack and shouting at Shannon not to do something that would make her the bad guy.
Jack thrust against Quinn’s weight, angry eyes snapping to me. “You,” he spat.
“Me,” I said, still holding my pen tightly in my grip, my knuckles scraped from the stone. “Why did you attack me, Freddy?”
“Fuck you. You should have given up the party page.” Powwach! Jack managed to land a hook over Quinn’s ear. “But at least you led me to the cripple. He made catching The Raven easy.”
“Fucker,” Quinn swore, snatching Jack into a firm hold as Shannon stepped one of her shit-kickers on the gun. Her gaze was livid, as if static streamed from her. She embodied my definition of rage.
She caught my eye, and I shook my head, clumsily trying to pull myself up. “Quinn’s right,” I said, with a cough. “You need to stop being The Raven before you become victim. None of us want you to lose your wings.”
She blinked, her gaze snapping to her brother who sat stranded in the corner.
Hunter grabbed Mitch’s shirt, drew him near and spat in his face. “I don’t ever want to see you around my friends or my sister again.”
He shoved him back, and Mitch crumpled. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to. I tried to say no.”
“But you didn’t,” Hunter said. “That’s all I need to know. Fuck off.”