Chapter 20 Emery
EMERY
All right, sit back down, Emery, you’re going to need stitches,” Reed says gruffly as he pulls a bullet from my thigh. Dark blood gushes out and I watch it with dull eyes, unfeeling and tired.
I haven’t even washed my hands yet. Red dirt clumps are stuck under my nails. Reed hardly even let me in the door before ushering me to the medical room.
It’s been one week since I saw Cameron on the rooftop.
The family business comes first. Not to mention I need space to sort out my head.
The pills don’t necessarily make things clearer either, but at least it staves off the physical pain.
A cloudy mind isn’t so bad, not when your line of work involves ruthless murder.
I’ve made sure to keep up on the doses every four hours like Nolan prescribed.
I don’t want to find out what happens if I stray from that.
All I have left is this awful melancholic longing for Cameron. The time we shared together in the Under and on the Fury Squad plays repeatedly in my head. His callused fingers that once touched me so delicately. His eyes that held so much hurt.
I expel a long breath.
“This is truly remarkable. You really feel nothing?” Reed stitches me up without any pain relief medications since I still have an entire bottle of the death pills.
He made sure to top off my bottle just in case before I left on the job, and I honestly can’t tell the difference between the ones he had made and the ones Nolan did.
I nod. “But what does it cost someone to feel nothing?” I murmur passively.
He grins and shakes the bloody needle at me. “Well, luckily for you, I happen to have exceptional connections in the biochemistry team. I think they’ve found the balancing agent that the pills were missing.” Reed grabs a pink bottle and tosses it at me.
I catch it. “We don’t have a biochemistry team.” My tone is flat and suspicious.
Reed keeps his wide smile, hardly even blinking. “I didn’t say they were ours.” He winks, extending his hand for the bottle I currently have been using. I hand it over and keep the pink one.
“Uh-huh.” I can’t help but give him a curious look, debating if I should ask about Cameron or not. Greg promised not to hurt him since pain tactics won’t work on him, but I just have an ominous feeling.
“How is Cameron?” I ask quietly, watching Reed move around the medical sink and pausing at my question.
He sets his hands down on the counter and considers his words before turning to face me. “You probably shouldn’t worry about him, Emery. None of us are particularly happy with the fact that he tried to murder you.” His voice is firm, speaking to me like I’m a child even though we’re the same age.
I scowl at him. “My father hardly cares.”
Reed shoots me a dirty look before it fades into understanding.
“You should focus on healing your mind. I don’t want to hear you mention Mori again, okay?
I’ll let you know when you can have him back.
” He’s not a rag doll. My gaze narrows with concern, studying Reed’s stiff posture and nod so that he’s satisfied.
“Have you ever been in love?” I ask, knowing that it will catch him off guard.
Reed’s eyes widen a fraction before he resumes his usual emotionless gaze.
“Who hasn’t at our age?” he says carelessly.
I can tell he’s lying. Reed doesn’t know how to love.
He only knows how to be possessive and use people.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn to understand what it is to feel it. It’s sad, really.
He turns back to face the sink, pretending to busy himself with cleaning medical tools. When I don’t say anything more he lets his shoulders slack. “Do you love him?” he eventually asks.
My lips press together tightly. “I did… I do.” My chest constricts with the conflicting emotions.
He returns to my side. “I don’t know how you ever manage to keep yourself alive.” He chuckles, changing the subject. I can tell it’s making him uncomfortable so I decide to roll with it.
“Because I love a criminal?” I toss the medical tape roll at him.
“Yes, that and your innocent demeanor. It’s very deceiving.”
“I learned from the best,” I mock the tone he used earlier and he chuckles.
“Anyway, Greg has a briefing planned for eight o’clock this evening. We’ll meet in the dealings room on the fourth floor.” He smiles, not that it ever meets his eyes, but I return one back anyway and hop off the table.
“Is everyone going to be in attendance?” I inquire as I linger by the door.
“Yes, your father has quite the announcement for the family so make sure you arrive early. Oh, and don’t bother the guard in your hallway, he’ll be attending the briefing too.” He rubs his fingers over the bloody bullet pulled from my flesh. My eyes linger there before I nod and leave.
Well, that was weird.
I’ve never known Reed to give vague answers about the briefings. He didn’t give me a straight answer about Cameron either. And what was with the guard comment? The interaction makes me antsy, but I try to put it out of my mind.
I acknowledge the guard with a brief dip of my head as I walk by Cameron’s room.
I wonder if I’m allowed to see him. It was permitted when he woke up from his surgeries. Is that why Reed mentioned that the guard will be attending the meeting, so that I can sneak in? I twist the ends of my braids anxiously and dare a look over my shoulder at the guard standing post.
Something feels off.
I groan and press my hands to my face as I shut the door behind me, sliding to my bedroom floor. I shouldn’t care about someone who literally just tried to kill me. Who lied to me and pushed me away. But no matter how long I try to get him out of my head, I can’t.
The shower runs hot. I scrub all the blood and dirt from my skin before doing a final rinse on my hair.
I decide to wear my formal “family attire” that my father had added to my wardrobe.
He thinks it’s important to display not only power to the other families, but to also show them that we have class.
Oh, please. My hands constantly have a red tint to them. I have anything but class. The meatloaf of a body I left behind in our rival family’s factory for some unfortunate person to find will surely prove that matter.
The navy blue dress is slick like a suit. The cuffs at the end of the sleeves are adorned with gold thread and buttons. A white collar is sewn in, making the top look sharp. The bottom portion is pleated, allowing easy movement.
A frown pulls at the corners of my mouth when I see that the bandage on my leg is visible. I slip on some black tights and pull on my combat-grade wedged boots. They are easily the best creation ever made, complete with four-inch daggers in the heel. You know, just in case.
I let my hair dry before curling it. The locks go down to my lower back and complement my dress better than I thought they would.
I look at myself in the mirror and firm my lips as I hide the scar on my forehead beneath my bangs.
Then, I take in the rest of my appearance, not particularly recognizing the person staring back.
This is a show of power. My father wants the families to see that he has his little executioner back. That I’m of sound mind, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I smile at the prospect of showing up late because it would undoubtedly piss him off. I plan on seeing Cameron before I head down. Even if we don’t speak, I just want to know that he’s okay. The unease that Reed left me with still lingers in the back of my mind.
It’s not like I’m forbidden to leave my room, but still, I carefully open the door and peek in each direction before making my way twenty feet down the hall to Cameron’s room.
The guard is gone, just like I knew he would be.
Anyone late to these meetings gets severely punished, so I expect everyone to be on the fourth floor by now.
I hope this doesn’t get me in trouble. Although I can’t necessarily remember what trouble looks like for me since I’m always following orders. It’s probably not that bad.
I pause at the threshold, hand raised to the wood and ready to knock.
I don’t know what makes me hesitate, but the second I hear chains rattling, I remember the night I heard the same sound while reading.
Horror flashes down my spine and sends me into motion.
I forgo knocking and try the door handle. It’s locked.
I can’t ignore this.
I kick the door open. It loudly smacks the wall as I stride in, expecting to find him cuffed to the table, or something more innocent than what I discover.
My stomach churns when I see his body. Any animosity I held for Cameron melts as my eyes take in the dark bruises over his ribs, the blood-drenched bandages over his chest, arms, and back.
His hands are elevated above his head, arms chained in front of him with an extension that hangs from the wall above, preventing him from being able to rest. He has no chair, bed, or blankets and is forced to stand in misery.
Cameron’s hair is messy and falls over his forehead as he slowly lifts his head and looks up at me.
Everything hits me like a freight train when his eyes fill with vulnerability and surprise to see me.
His cheeks are hollowed, lips chapped. But more than anything, I see the lost spirit in his gaze.
It’s only been a week and I hardly recognize the man standing before me.
“Cameron,” I whisper, unable to say anything else as I rush to his side. “Cameron.” Tears fall down my cheeks as I fumble with the chains to no avail. A large padlock is secured there, requiring a key.
“Em.” His voice is raspy and weak. I return my focus to him, gently touching his arms, afraid to hurt him any further. He groans and starts coughing up blood.
A puddle of dark liquid is already established beneath him.
The color in the room seems to all fade into red as a knot grows in my throat.