Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
In one hand, I’m holding a flashlight while rummaging through boxes and trash bags with the other. The coldness from the unused room seeps through my clothes, and my hair’s still a little damp from the second shower of the night.
“I’m here,” Kaya announces herself by strolling in, closing the door behind her. She’s squeaky clean, too, and wearing some clothes I’ve found in the bedroom I’m using. They’re Noelle’s, and although they don’t seem like something Kaya would wear otherwise, she makes no complaints.
“Good, good,” I sigh. “Come closer.”
Without another word, she stalks toward me, flopping on the floor next to me and crossing her legs in a lotus position.
This entire room’s been filled with all the important documents from the De Santis manor, and it’s been a struggle to figure out which box is whose.
We had no time to label them, and now it’s come to bite me in the ass.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for Noelle’s work phone. I could swear I’ve seen it while we were packing,” I mutter under my breath, then turn off the flashlight, angling my body to look at Kaya. “But that’s not the reason I called you here.”
“Here as in this room, or in general?”
“In general,” I clarify. “You’ve heard my conversation with Alexander. I need you to find Daisy.”
“I figured,” she nods. “But finding a four-year-old child named Daisy isn’t as easy as you might think.”
“I have everything on her.’’ I whisk out Zoe’s phone, handing it over to Kaya. She takes it, unlocks it, then all I see is her finger either tapping or scrolling down. Her eyes don’t tell me a single thing, but she’s reading through carefully.
“Alright then,” she turns the phone off. “What do you want me to do?”
“Find her, make sure she’s safe and unharmed.”
“Yeah, obviously,” she scoffs. “What am I supposed to do with her after that?”
I lean back, lying on one of the trash bags, looking at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I didn’t think that far ahead.”
“Look, I get that you want to save her from this situation, but you need to tell me where to take her. I could potentially find childcare for a while, though I don’t trust anyone to have them keep her longer.”
“Not even your family?”
She lifts a brow. “Let’s see, my oldest brother is the current head of the Russian mob, so I highly doubt he has the time to deal with a traumatized child, or even wants to. Then we have Dominik, who, to his credit, would take her in immediately, but he’d want to adopt her later on.”
“What’s bad about that?”
“We’re criminals, Blair.” Kaya looks out the window, staring at the moon.
“If you ever decide to have kids, please think carefully about the world you’re bringing them in.
You’ll always have to look over your shoulder to try and keep them safe, more than families with legal jobs.
If you piss someone off, there are no lines here.
They will go after your kids. No one deserves to be a target just by being born. ”
A beat of silence passes. No matter how much I want to dispute her claims, I know that she’s right.
Deep down, I wouldn’t want to bring a child into this world.
I told Alexander I’d kill his son, but that was a bluff.
Unless the child’s equally as responsible for the wrongdoings of his father, there’s no reason to kill him.
However, not everyone will be bluffing. The thought of having to work twice as hard to protect my kids from the evils of this world is painful to even think of, and it’s even worse knowing that those evils would want my children dead because of me.
“You’re right,” I sigh. “Then, keep Daisy for a while. At least until all of this passes. I’ll figure out the logistics after that.”
Kaya looks like she wants to protest but nods nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll go tonight.”
“Good, and keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
With a groan and a small crack of my back, I sit up straight, then start going through the bags again. Kaya offers help, which I happily accept, and we continue to look for Noelle’s phone for the next twenty minutes, neither of us speaking.
Kaya’s the one to break the silence, huffing in irritation. “Why do you need her phone, anyway?”
“I need to find a particular phone number.”
“Which one? I’ll get it for you easier than this.”
“Yes, but I need to make the call from Noelle’s phone.”
Confusion falls on Kaya’s face, her brows scrunching together. “Are you calling the king of Denmark?”
I snort. “No, definitely not. These past few days while Arlo’s been away and Aria’s been trying to do everything here, I heard some snippets of conversations.”
“Something interesting, I’m assuming?”
I nod. “Look, what I’m about to do is something Arlo will probably be angry at me for.”
Her eyes glint with mischief, a lazy smirk tugs on the corner of her lips. “Do tell. Who’s this mysterious person?”
“Current chief of the FBI.”
Kaya blinks, a baffled expression taking over her features. “What? Silas Michaelis? What do you need him for?”
I take a deep breath, clutching my hands into fists. “Look, to get all of this fucking chaos under control, we need to get rid of Paul Simmons.”
Kaya nods. “Yes, let’s kill the motherfucker.”
I chuckle. “I’m the first one who wants to kill him, trust me. But that’s not how we’re doing this. See, Hudson’s been transported to prison earlier today. He went there willingly.”
“Okay,” Kaya’s voice is laced with skepticism. “How does that correlate?”
“Find me the phone, and you’ll see.”
It’s like a lightbulb appears over her head, and she takes her phone and calls Noelle.
It’s silent until I can hear a faint ringtone sound somewhere far in the corner.
Kaya stands up, then takes a few steps forward.
She opens the box, pushes her hand inside, then pulls the phone out with a wide grin.
“Here,’’ she tosses it to me, and I catch it with ease.
Kaya returns to my side while I look through the contacts, stopping when I find the one I’ve been looking for. She’s silent, observing me like this is her favorite show. It takes three rings before the person picks up the phone.
“Yes?”
“Agent Michaelis,” I clear my throat. “Noelle Campbell speaking.”
The fire in the fireplace is crackling, giving its signal of life. I’m sitting on the armchair in front of it, enjoying the night, tightly wrapped in a soft blanket, with Arson purring in my lap. Softly, I stroke her back, and she meows before falling right back to sleep.
The snow continues to fall outside, the harsh wind blowing. The softness of the blanket and the warmth of the fireplace manage to give me peace of mind, even if for a little bit. It’s been too much for me to handle, and I’m mentally preparing myself for the shitshow that’s about to go down.
The one I caused.
My heart squeezes tightly, the pain manifesting as a physical ache.
I miss Arlo more than words can describe, and no one wants to tell me anything.
Aria’s been brushing me off, Cove acts like I’m trying to pull the tongue out of his mouth, and anyone else either acts oblivious or pretends they don’t hear me.
The plan I’ve come up with isn’t smart. In fact, it’s probably one of the stupidest things I ever could’ve done. But right now, I’m all alone. I need to do something, because acting like a sitting duck begging to be shot isn’t working anymore.
The fears, the irrational parts of my brain, all scream at me to run as far as my feet would carry me. To make sure no one else ever finds me. And quite frankly, a small, modest cottage in the middle of nowhere would suffice.
But the love for Arlo and his family — our family — is what’s keeping me grounded. They did so much for me, gave me a place I can truly call home, and treated me like one of their own without a second thought. It’s time for me to act the part and give back for everything they’ve done for me.
Earlier today, I visited Noelle. Her state remains unchanged, and seeing her lying in the hospital bed, with machines attached to her, hurts a lot. She’s grown slimmer, or perhaps it’s my mind playing tricks on me. She’s too pale, and the fact that her state isn’t improving is worrying me deeply.
I tried sneaking in to see Arlo, too. The fact that we’ve been apart for three weeks now is making me grow angrier as the days go by. Aria’s right, in a sense. He needs to get his shit together and return to us healthy. But the wait is what’s making me miserable. I miss my perfect, beautiful boy.
“Blair,’’ Aria’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife. I straighten up in my seat but make no attempt to look over my shoulder to see her or move from my spot. Her footsteps near, and she sits in the armchair across from me. “What the fuck did you do?”
“It needed to be done.” I keep my voice steady, refusing to look her in the eye. Instead, I keep my gaze firmly on the fireplace, the dancing of the flames soothing the anxiety that bubbles inside me.
“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” With each word, Aria’s voice rises. It’s a mix between shock, anger, and something else that I can’t exactly pinpoint. “Why the fuck would you do something like that without consulting me?”
“Because this doesn’t concern you, Aria.”
Aria pauses. “Excuse me? It’s none of my concern?”
Just as I’m about to respond, she stands up from the armchair, looking at me with gritted teeth. Arson, sensing the sudden rise in tension, jumps off my lap and walks out of the room. The silence is deafening, and the look Aria’s giving me isn’t helping me, either.
“Look, Aria—”
“No,” she cuts me off, hands fisting by her body. “Do you even realize what it took for us to get him? Do you know how hard we — no, how hard Arlo had to work to find, save you and, at the same time, set up a trap to capture Paul? Do you honestly not see the fault in what you’ve done?”
“I have a plan, Aria. I didn’t just let Paul Simmons go.”