23 - Peyton
PEYTON
Colson moved so fast it was impossible to follow him. I knew right then and there, things were bad. Ripley held my hand as we cut through the house, eventually spilling out into the living area.
Theo was sitting at the table, alone. Not hunched over his laptop, where he’d always been. Not punching keys and muttering to himself, as usual.
No, he sat with his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. It was his expression that bothered me more than anything else. He looked hollowed out. Empty.
Not to mention, white as a ghost.
My stomach dropped.
“Theo?”
He didn’t look at me right away. When he did, I saw his bloodshot eyes. They were red, tired, and unfocused.
“They got to him,” he muttered.
Ripley froze, his body stiffening. “Your father?”
He nodded, glumly. Colson swore, and shook his head.
“I didn’t use anything traceable,” Theo murmured. “I went through back channels. Old contacts, from an old, private forum. People who know me only though long-dead usernames.”
“Theo…”
“Trust me,” he growled, uncharacteristically. “I know what I’m doing. I went through a hundred VPN’s. I didn’t leave any fingerprints.”
“And?”
“Donovan must’ve gotten through to the medical board. They stopped my father’s experimental protocol. Effective immediately.”
Silence descended, like a heavy curtain, as they all looked at each other. I felt confused; like the only one not in on an inside joke.
“My father has metastatic cancer,” Theo explained, his eyes shifting to me. “Stage four. Inoperable.”
I covered my mouth with my hands. “Oh, Theo…”
“He’s been part of a radically new, highly-expensive treatment plan,” he went on. “Donovan got him into the clinical trial, almost a year ago now. He’s also paying for it, of course. There’s no way I could ever afford it.”
“And he stopped it?” I breathed. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
Ripley spat. “What a bastard.”
“There’s more.”
With shaking hands, Theo reached out and turned the laptop so that it faced us. A single message filled the screen:
You have 72 hours to return what’s mine.
Or I stop being patient.
My chest tightened. I hadn’t felt this sick since I was standing at the altar.
“So Donovan knows where we are?” I asked fearfully.
“No,” sighed Colson. “He doesn’t need to.”
“He’s using Theo’s father as leverage,” growled Ripley.
Theo let out a shuddering sigh. “He always does.”
I felt abruptly dizzy, like I should start looking for a chair. But I was more angry, than anything else.
“We have to give him the locket, then.”
Theo shook his head. “Not an option.”
“Why not?” I said fiercely. “We just give it back to him. He’ll resume treatment. Your dad’s health takes priority over any sort of revenge we might—”
“Who knows if he’ll even keep his word?” Colson cut me off. “Eventually he’d kill us. Or discredit us. Probably humiliate us first, if I know him.”
“Yeah,” Ripley agreed. “We’re fucked either way.”
“We can’t just not help your father, though!” I cried. “There has to be something we could do for him.”
“There is.”
Theo’s voice was sullen, but practical. There were no tears in his eyes, no frantic emotions. All those things, I could imagine, he’d already gone through. Back when his father’s grim diagnosis first sank in.
“We break this fucking locket,” he said coolly. “That’s what we do. We extract everything inside this godforsaken thing, and dump it all, full release, straight to the public. Totally irreversible.
Ripley’s resulting smirk was damn near demonic. He came up behind his friend, and clapped him so hard on his shoulders that Theo nearly collapsed.
“Fuckin’ A right we do.”
I coughed, hard enough to clear the sudden knot in my throat. “But your father…”
“My father’s on borrowed time as it is,” Theo said solemnly. “He’d be the first one to tell you that. The man is a realist, and he knows the score. We’re not giving up the chance to bury Donovan Prescott for a couple more bad months of a very good life.”
“He’s right,” Colson agreed. “He’d kill you himself if you did that.”
“He would.”
“Alright then,” said Ripley. “What do you need from us?”
“Time,” said Theo. “Caffeine. Chocolate.”
“All doable.”
“Really though, I need to just stop fucking around.”
All heads swung in my direction. I put my hands up, guilty.
“Hey, don’t look at me.”
“Oh, we’re looking at you,” smirked Ripley.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” laughed Theo. “I mean all the swimming, the fishing, the messing around on the beach.” His complexion turned a slight shade of pink. “Actually, all the sex is doing wonders for me. It’s giving me focus. Clearing my head.”
“More sex it is then,” I smiled, folding my arms. The others squinted back at me, jealously. “Hey! I’m just doing my part.”
Colson reached down and turned the laptop back around. With two thick fingers, he pushed it Theo’s way.
“Alright, you do your thing. Ripley and I are going to town tomorrow. We need to prep for what happens after you crack the locket.”
“Prep?”
“Once the shit hits the fan, we might have to move fast,” Ripley confirmed. “We’re going to need maps. Burner phones. Cash.”
“Medical supplies, just in case,” added Colson.
“We also need to arrange a secondary vehicle,” said Theo. “Truck, boat, whatever. Plus, there’s a certain captain at the dock you’ll need to talk to. We don’t need passports yet, but he can provide fake names, backstories…”
Colson’s nod of agreement was more of a military salute. It was shocking how fast he could settle into that mode.
“And when we do need passports, he can point us in that direction,” Theo finished.
“Good,” I put my hands on my hips. “I’m coming with.”
“No, you’re not.”
Colson and Ripley had replied in total unison. They gave the order so fast, as if they knew me.
They didn’t.
“You’re not understanding,” I balked. “I’m not asking permission. I’m telling you.”
Theo looked uncomfortable in the resulting silence. Like a child caught in the middle of his parents fighting.
“They’re right though,” Theo finally relented. “You’re the billionaire’s runaway bride. Everyone and their mother is out looking for you.” He pointed to the laptop’s screen. “Your face is plastered all over the news channels, Page Six, and—”
“There’s no way I’m sitting on my hands while your father suffers,” I cut him off. “Besides, you said you needed medical supplies? That’s my wheelhouse.”
Ripley looked confused. “Your wheelhouse?”
“I was an LPN, assisting in a busy emergency room when Donovan found me,” I declared, matter of factly. “He made me quit, a few months into dating him. Said it was too stressful for me.”
“You were?”
“I knew that,” Theo admitted.
“I knew it too,” said Colson.
“Then bring me,” I reiterated. “You barely even disinfected my cuts last time, when I ran through the woods. I’m lucky I didn’t get sixteen different infections.”
“Peyton…”
“Look, if people are going to be shooting at us again, we’ll need sutures. Painkillers. Antibiotics.”
Colson and Ripley exchanged glances.
“It’s still too risky. If anyone sees and recognizes you…”
“Trust me,” I smiled, stretching my arms behind my back. “By the time I get finished, no one’s going to recognize me.”
“By the time you get… finished?”
“That’s my wheelhouse too,” I winked.