TWENTY-SIX
Gigi
The colour of red velvet cake is eerily similar to blood – specifically, the blood of the man who was shot right before my eyes. This cake may be slightly lighter, but I can’t stop my mind from running with the thought the sponge was drenched in the thick puddle as I bring the bloody cake to my mouth.
“How was last night?” Mia asks, distracting me.
I fist the discarded crumbs in my closed palm, wiping my hand clear on my trouser leg. The pieces drop to my feet, scattered around a few wrappers lying dormant on the coffee-shop floor.
“It was fine,” I say, nodding like I’m trying to convince myself.
“ Fine? You were on the arm of a bloody hunk all night and it was just fine?”
My palms start to sweat, and I rub them along my thighs. Stubborn crumbs stick to my skin, and I scrub harder, gnawing at my lower lip.
Tell me why I’m considering confiding in Mia about what I saw.
I spent all last night staring at a blank wall, replaying the scene in my head. The memory should send me running for the hills, but for some unknown reason I find myself struggling to get the Circle out of my mind. It’s not a want at this point. It’s a need .
Quickly scoping out my surroundings to make sure there aren’t any Nosy Nellies listening in on our conversation, I find we’re alone. Except for a mother and her baby and a man sitting in the corner reading a copy of the daily newspaper. All are too far away to hear our conversation.
“He shot …” I say, my voice too quiet to hear.
“What?”
“Shot someone …”
“Huh?”
“He shot someone.”
“HE WHAT!”
I dart forwards and slap my palm over her mouth. “Keep your mouth shut.”
Her eyes are panicked as she pries each of my fingers off her mouth. She clutches my hand and searches between my eyes for answers.
“Harry shot someone?”
“What? No!”
I don’t doubt he probably has shot someone in his life, especially if his boss is anything to go by, but he’s not who I’m referring to.
Hushed, I clarify, “His boss did.”
She gulps, her eyes wild as she looks between mine. “Does Harry know?”
I nod, bowing my head.
“Gigi, you have to call the police.”
My head snaps up, and I shake my head no. Is she crazy? Harry once told me I could never call the police about this kind of stuff.
Someone walks past us, and fear races up my spine. Anxiety hits me like a thunderstorm, and I suddenly feel as if I’m standing under a spotlight.
Why did I tell her?
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, Gigi.
“We should get out of here,” I tell Mia.
Confused, she gathers up her belongings, slips on her jacket, and hangs her bag over the crook of her arm. The bell rings above our heads as she pushes open the door to the coffee shop, signalling our departure. A gust of wind sweeps through the cracked door and sends a chill through my body.
Outside my gaze narrows on two men standing on the pavement opposite the coffee shop.
“Is everything okay?” Mia asks, stepping beside me.
The men make no attempt to conceal their actions, hands pressed firmly in their pockets, staring directly at Mia and me. Their faces are stern, causing every hair on my body to stand on end.
It’s the duo from the ball. I just know it.
The ones who helped Richard dispose of the body.
Did they hear what I said to Mia?
Immediately bowing my head, I grab her arm. “Start walking and keep your head down.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t question my sudden demand. Our footsteps scurry across the pavement as I lead us on a longer route towards the parking lot. My theory – if these men are following us – is that we’ll be able to lose them in the back alley behind the shops.
“Where are you taking us?” Mia hisses.
“Right this way,” I tell her, making sure not to lose grip of her arm.
Turning down the alley, my feet grind into the floor when I see a figure standing at the opening to the car park. He stands alone, his arms folded across his chest.
But where’s his friend?
With my throat threatening to close, I shake my head, backing up a few steps.
“Do you know these guys?”
I tug her arm again. “Mia, we need to go.”
I scurry backwards as the other man enters the other end of the alley, standing directly in front of us. Mia grabs onto my arm, digging her nails into my skin in fear .
“What do we do?” she whispers as they both step closer.
I watch as the men approach, rendered silent. If these men are who I suspect they are and their loyalty lies with their boss, they shouldn’t hurt Mia. I’m the one who made a massive error, and I’ll be the one to pay the price. Not her.
The man steps a few feet in front of us. “Gigi, you need to come with us.”
I nod slowly, knowing I have no other choice.
“No!” Mia says. “You seriously can’t think about going with these guys.”
Ignoring her protests, I grip her shoulders. “Mia, you need to go home. Lock your front door. Make sure the windows are closed, and don’t let anyone inside unless it’s Greg, Andy, Harry or me. Okay?” I shake her shoulders when she doesn’t answer. “Promise me!”
She nods her head. “I-I promise.”
I’m in fucking trouble. That much I know.
I could’ve tried to escape, but what good would that have done? I’m no competition for two oversized men. While I could convince myself this is the start of my journey into the Circle, there’s no point denying the obvious. I’ve done something majorly wrong.
“Can you tell me where you’re taking me?” I ask.
Silence.
I tip my head back against the headrest, trying my phone and immediately cursing as Harry fails to answer when I dial. It’s probably for the best. He’d flip his shit if he found out what I’ve done.
After swerving through London traffic, the car pulls up outside the derelict building I once followed Harry to. From the outside, you’d be convinced there’s nothing but rubble and ash inside, but I guess that’s what makes it the perfect spot to do business. No one would suspect a thing – especially as it’s far from civilisation.
The car door is ripped open and the men pull me out, forcing my arms into their harsh grip. I’m escorted into an office – one I recognise immediately. Every bit of furniture has been etched into my brain since the moment I left. There are a few steps down to the sunken room. Art hangs on the wall to our left, a desk sits immediately parallel to the entrance, and the office chair is unoccupied behind it. Everything is identical to my first visit, except this time the coal fire in the corner crackles with the sound of burning wood.
The guards leave me at the entrance, exiting without another word. The sun leaks through the dark windows, and despite it being spring, I hug my arms close around my waist in anticipation of what awaits me.
The office doors swing open, and I whip my head towards the presence.
“Harry?” I ask warily, ready to take a step towards him.
Our eyes lock, and a look I hardly see on him flickers to the surface.
Unmistakable panic.
“Stay right there!” He throws his hand out towards me, insisting I remain rooted in place. He screws his eyes shut, exhaling a heavy breath as he warns, “Don’t move.”
His feet stay glued to the spot like he’s stuck in quicksand, as if the floor below him could swallow him up in one wrong move.
Eyes still closed, he pleads, “Tell me you’re not hurt.”
“No,” I breathe. “I’m okay.”
“You need to tell me what happened.”
I watch as his lips part in another exhale, eyes slowly creeping open. His arm starts to shake vigorously from the way it’s still hanging in the air between us.
“Did you tell anyone what you saw?”
Despite remaining still, he seems to be itching to race over, appearing so restrained it looks agonising.
“What’s all this about? Why are you here—?” I go to step forwards again.
“I said don’t move!”
Placing my foot back on the ground submissively, I sheepishly admit, “I spoke with Mia. I told her what I saw in the office.”
Harry’s expression falls, and he’s suddenly a blank canvas. I can’t tell if he’s fuelled with anger, panic, or rage.
I just see nothing.
Heavy footsteps echo directly outside the door, alerting us to the arrival of our impending company.
As if time has sped up, Harry is suddenly at my side, his hands crowding my face as he forces me to look into his eyes. The whole interaction looks like it’s costing him something priceless.
His voice is rushed. “Don’t show emotion towards me – it’ll only trigger him more. Remember everything I’ve told you about him up until this point. And whatever you do, don’t be foolish.”
“What are you talking about?” I grip his fingers.
As the doors open, Harry parts from my body like a flash of lightning. Footsteps echo against the floor, the sound so daunting it overtakes the noise of my thumping heart.
Richard says nothing.
He walks down the steps slowly and torturously, rounding his desk to sit in his chair. The fire seems to crackle a little harder at his presence, and I ache to look over to Harry, but it’s like I can hear him screaming at me telepathically to keep my eyes forwards.
Resting his forearms on the desk in front of him, Richard meets my eye immediately. I hate that no matter how dangerous this man is, I’m drawn to him like a lonely child aching for a father figure. Despite everything I’ve been warned about, I admire the way he silences a room .
I want a life surrounded by what he has. What they have.
“Why do you think you’re here today, Miss Thomas?”
Don’t be foolish.
Don’t be foolish.
Opting for mercy, I say, “I think it has something to do with the conversation I had with my friend.”
“Mia Allen, you mean? Clean record. Lives in Surrey. You both attended the same primary school in the neighbouring village. Not really someone I want lurking around me and my team …”
“She won’t say anything. I swear.”
“How can I be sure you won’t slip up again?”
“You have my word.”
“That means nothing to me.”
He pushes off from the desk, getting to his feet, and I catch the stiffness of Harry’s body from a few feet away.
I can’t let this opportunity slip through my fingers.
I’m so close.
SO close.
Richard makes torturous steps towards the fire, reaching out for the steel poker beside the fireplace and prodding the burning wood. The increase of the crackle fills the silence.
With his back turned, my attention slowly drifts towards Harry. His eyes bore into the fire, his jaw clenched. I look between the two, knowing I need to make a split-second decision that could ultimately change the course of my life. And as I look towards the end of the poker, which burns red from the fire’s wrath, I recognise the undeniable shape of a circle instantly.
That circular burn on Harry’s skin never made sense to me … until now.
“I’ll endure punishment as a consequence. But you must swear you won’t touch Mia. ”
At the same moment as I catch a menacing grin growing across the side of Richard’s face, Harry whips his head towards me. The look on his face, while subtle, says, Are you fucking kidding me right now?
“You once told me it was kill or be killed. Let me show you how devoted I am,” I plead.
I turn to face Richard’s back, ignoring Harry’s pressing gaze.
“A life worth dying for – that’s what you told me. Your most important rule. Let me show you how much this means to me.”
Kill or be killed.
Endure and survive.
I repeat the words in my head like a mantra.
Richard prods the fire with the metal stick, twisting it slowly in the flames.
“If you are looking to take this opportunity seriously, Miss Thomas, this will come at no challenge to you …” He retracts the metal from the fire and blows against it, causing a small spritz of sparks to spray the air. “A symbol of your promise to this life.”
The metal hangs between the three of us, drawing our attention like moths to a flame. A circle. The symbol of the inner crime group. And the same marking that Harry has imprinted on his neck, and which Jack had stained on his left shoulder.
I look at the ring inflamed with raw red heat.
A lump clogs my throat, but I refuse to let fear deter me.
“I’ll do it.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” Harry demands.
What the fuck is he doing?
Didn’t he just say not to show emotion?
I meet his eye in a brutal stare.
He says, “Gigi, think about this …”
I turn my head away .
It’s too risky to be swept up in the sorrow that aches to convince me otherwise.
I want this – I know I do.
I’ve never been surer of anything.
“I’ve made my decision,” I say, remaining headstrong.
Slowly stepping up towards the desk, my fingertips splinter from the wood with how hard I grasp it. Taking a moment to regain my composure, I bow my head between my shoulders, releasing a heavy breath.
This is so much more than a symbol. It’s a branding. I’m meant to be a fucking feminist and I’m allowing myself to be branded by a man. But if this is the small price to pay, something I must endure to be granted a life of money and power, I’ll embrace it.
I’m doing it for Jack.
And to prove myself to anyone who dared to undermine me.
Leaning over the desk slowly, I gather my hair in my hands and bring it over one shoulder as I slowly press my chest flat against the wood. It acts as a firm surface for the organ that beats ferociously.
Thump … thump … thump …
Richard approaches with the poker in his hands, and my heart rate increases tenfold the closer he gets.
He shoves the cool end of the poker into Harry’s grip, his words strikingly clear. “You do it.”
This is why he didn’t want me to show emotion.
My God.
Harry grits his teeth. “No.”
I don’t doubt the punishment from Harry will just be a fraction of what I would endure if the poker were in Richard’s grasp.
Meeting his panicked expression, I mouth, “It’s okay.”
He shakes his head no .
It’s not okay. It’s not fucking okay, he must think.
But it is.
He approaches my back, suffocating my body with warmth and providing a false security blanket. Exhaling a heavy breath, I jump when the collar of my T-shirt is torn. Harry exposes the skin at the nape of my neck, a patch of unscarred flesh that’s about to be victim to his punishment.
As I turn my head towards Harry, he fights my gaze, and the panic and adrenaline hit me at once. My body trembles with the fear he’ll hate me, not the upcoming pain.
Harry draws near, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
I can feel the heat radiating from the poker.
“Wait!” I shout, and he freezes. Craning my neck to look at Richard this time, I say, “Swear to me you won’t touch Mia.”
He chuckles as if I’m wasting my time. “I swear.”
“On Jack’s grave,” I demand. “Swear it!”
He pauses, grinding his teeth. “Fine. On Jack’s grave, I swear it. But you must vow to cut all contact with your friend. I can’t afford for you to slip up again, or to have her reporter tendencies sniffing too closely … unless you’re both asking for death, of course.”
I halt, blinking rapidly.
Richard grins slowly, amused by my surprise. “She is a reporter – no?”
Everything feels suddenly cold.
Never speak to Mia again? We’ve never missed Mystery Monday – not once – but now I’m expected to cut contact for the remainder of my life here? It seems unfathomable, severing our relationship … But at the reminder of Richard’s quiet emphasis on “death”, I shudder inwardly.
As if hearing my thoughts, he adds, “If you are so devoted to joining us, then this shouldn’t pose as an issue.”
“You won’t hurt her?”
“On Jack’s grave,” he repeats tonelessly.
I pause, passing a steadying breath through my lips.
Richard groans tiredly. “Clock’s ticking …”
The air whooshes out of me. “Fine.”
Slowly, I turn away from him and face the opposite wall. My eyes bore into a fleck of paint that steals all my attention.
“Do it,” I tell Harry.
Voice cracking, he says, “Please don’t make me—”
“I know what I signed up for.”
The pain starts off as a slight pinprick, like a scratch I can’t quite reach. This isn’t so bad, I think … until my body feels like it’s being assaulted at alarming speed. A feeling similar to fire, pure molten lava, melts my skin, sending me into panic mode as my neck scorches with agony.
A scream lets rip from my lips and my feet kick the floor, demanding freedom from the torturous minutes – but in reality, it’s less than a few seconds between Harry branding my skin and him stumbling backwards. The burn is excruciating. If I couldn’t see, I’d think he was still assaulting me.
As darkness flickers at the edges of my vision, I wonder if I’m about to pass out. I feel as if my entire body has just been dipped in acid.
My eyes find Harry, and his hands are shaking vigorously. He’s staring at his palms as if he doesn’t even recognise himself.
His lips move over the words, “What have I done? This is all my fault.”
“Again,” Richard insists.
“I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Come again?”
“I’m not doing it,” Harry demands, retreating a step.
He chucks the weapon to the floor, and it rattles, rolling several inches before stopping near my feet.
“You’ll do it again or I’ll put it on her fucking face. Or better off, I’ll kill her.”
Harry shakes his head, his voice dropping to a desperate plea. “Kill me.”
“Harry,” I say, my voice weak. “Just do it. It’s okay.”
Richard approaches the fire and prepares a new piece of steel, freshly brewed among the flames. Storming back over, he shoves it into Harry’s hands as if to teach him a lesson for speaking up.
“I’m so sorry, baby …” Harry whispers, the sound only intended for me. “You just need to breathe. Breathe through it, and it’ll be over.”
But I don’t.
I scream.
I scream until my voice is hoarse and my body feels like it’s physically breaking.
Harry and I aren’t like Romeo and Juliet. We’re only the tragedy.