Chapter 37
Torren
I grab the second gun I keep in my bedroom and leap over the railing, landing on the shop floor, and sprint for my bike.
No coat. No time. The garage door can’t open fast enough.
Hail falls, pelting my exposed arms like a hundred needles.
This is my fault. If I weren’t such a chickenshit coward, Felix wouldn’t be in this situation.
I did this.
And I’ll get him out of it.
The mansion is ahead, and my bike barely comes to a stop about 30 meters away from the gate before I stop and bolt for the entrance. I rest my hand on the gun in my pocket as I run, ensuring it won’t fall, and hug the wrought iron fence, keeping out of sight.
The gate is unattended, so I leap over the barrier arm. Lights are off—
Circling the side of the house, I rush to the servant’s entrance—the same one I entered for the party.
Locked. I peer inside. No movement. No lights.
I know if I break a window, an alarm will go off—all of these rich assholes have alarms.
Fuck it.
I use my gun to break the window, an alarm immediately blaring, and reach inside to unlock the door.
I scramble to the corner of the kitchen, then use my foot to open the door just a crack, peeking out to check for threats, my gun primed for an attack.
The ballroom is dark, silent.
I barrel through the foyer and scan the area. Everything is dark. I run up the stairs and check each room. The last door is wide open, and I rush in.
No.
Pictures everywhere. Pictures of us. Blood splattered on the wall and floor.
Flames blaze inside me until I make the horrible realization that this house is empty, and Felix is gone.
My gut coils like a snake as I check every room.
He’s gone. Hargrove took him.
Or worse.
My mind spirals, heart thudding in my chest.
Help.
I run out the way I came, finally reaching my bike, and speed off. I run stoplights, swerve between cars, and veer onto sidewalks to avoid traffic.
I reach the Kitty Cat Club and pound on the door. Mac opens in, and I barge in. I can’t hear. Can’t see him either.
I see blood.
Felix’s blood.
The very real possibility that Hargrove might have killed Felix pulls my heart like an anchor. My body sags, and I collapse to my knees in the open area of the foyer.
The hail sounds like gravel hitting the glass, and my mind jettisons back to the night he stood below my window, tossing pebbles at the glass, and begging to come in.
And I wouldn’t let him.
A cry of agony scrapes through my throat. Hellcats descend—a clamor of questions filling the space in response.
Then Tobias appears in my line of sight, his hands on either side of my face.
“He’s gone,” is all I can say.
Felix
The pounding in my head feels like a dozen elephants stampeding over my skull. Everything in my body hurts, but nothing worse than my head.
My eyes creep open, revealing a sight I haven’t seen in a long time.
It’s my bedroom. My real bedroom. I’m in our house on Mulberry Street.
I try to move, but I can’t. My arms are locked, and my body is in agony.
My eyes trail down to see what I’m stuck in…
A straitjacket.
I’m stunned, motionless. What’s happening?
“Help!”
I thrash about, trying to break free. My heart speeds up, but my head still feels awful.
I choke on my panic.
“Help!”
The yelling makes my skull throb. I notice the pain in my side too—
I hurt all over.
Phone. Torren!
I was on the phone with him. He knows. He’ll do something. He—
“I should have done this when you dug that hole.”
My father’s voice snatches me from my panic, and pure unadulterated rage blasts through me. “What are you doing?” I scream, my voice harsh and raspy.
Father approaches, holding a syringe, while Robert hovers in the doorway.
“Cleaning up another mess,” my father explains in a demented tone. He turns to Robert. “Come on.”
The two of them approach. “He’s awake,” my father yells. Not to Robert, but to someone else. Someone in the hall—
Doctor Franklin reveals himself. “You’ll need to put it in the meaty part of the thigh. He’ll thrash about, so hold him down.”
Robert grips my leg. “Fuck off! Don’t touch me!” I try to kick, but I’m weak. The screaming alone is exhausting.
Father stabs me in the thigh, the searing pain bringing forth a wail of anguish.
The deed is done, and the three of them stand in a row, observing me.
“How long?” My father asks.
Doctor Franklin cocks his head. “A dose that large administered intravenously? I’d say 7 to 12 hours tops.”
“Then we unstrap him?” my father adds.
Doctor Franklin nods. “Unstrap him. Leave him alone for another twenty-four hours, and we’ll see what he does.”
Father sneers, looking at me with hatred in his eyes. “And if he doesn’t kill himself?”
My eyes go wide, a high-pitched buzzing sound ringing in my ears.
“He’ll be in a state of psychosis. You can have him committed. That was the plan with Belinda, was it not?”
“Could he call for help?”
Doctor Franklin laughs. “He’ll be completely psychotic. I can’t imagine he’ll have the wherewithal to do anything but crouch in a corner and cry.”
My father searches my face. “You really think the psychosis will last a week?”
“No doubt,” Doctor Franklin assures him. “If he survives, he’ll be completely deranged for at least seven days. No hospital in the world would question committing him.”
Father huffs, cracking his neck while his eyes trail across the room. He walks to my old desk, pictures of Mother and me still there. He picks one up and holds it to his chest. He turns and asks Robert, “Everything ready?”
“The press should arrive at 10 AM. Will you need a speech drafted?”
Father shakes his head. “No, I’ll do this one on the fly. Stumbling over my words will read better.”
Father reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a wad of cash, and hands it to the doctor.
“Do I look miserable?” Father asks Robert.
“Very.”
He then gives the doctor a playful nudge. “I imagine you can’t clean up this bite wound on my face.”
Doctor Franklin shakes his head. “Different kind of medicine, I’m afraid.”
“No matter. It will read well on camera.” Father turns to me. “You may have saved this election for me.”
The three of them walk out of the room together. I scream at them, begging to be released, but the door closes.
I hear them locking it from the outside. It’s all too much. The room starts to spin, my vision goes dark, and I pass out again.