Chapter 17 #3
"On the run. His two lieutenants were picked up an hour ago. It's a matter of time." Atlas sets the phone down. Looks at me. Looks at Zero. "Max did this. Max and Wren. Two victim statements. Hwang had enough for the warrant by ten this morning."
The room is quiet.
Max did this.
The boy who couldn't say I love you out loud walked into a government building and told strangers every detail of the worst thing that ever happened to him. His designation. His name. Everything. Because nine people were stuck in that building and he was the only one who could get them out.
I press my hand against my back pocket. Against the letter.
I've got you too.
Yeah, baby. You do.
∞∞∞
We still can't reach him.
Four more calls. Voicemail. The bond is still tugging and pulling and hurting and worrying and I can barely breathe anymore.
The sun went down an hour ago. The relief of the raid hasn't lasted. The nine omegas are out safe. Kline is running, all his underlings arrested or running too. But Max is somewhere in the city and Margot is somewhere else and every hour that passes is an hour she could be putting him on a plane.
I can’t fucking take it anymore.
None of us can.
Atlas says it first.
"Margot took him somewhere early this morning. A hotel, most likely. If she used a card, we can find it."
"How?" Zero. Flat.
"Richard's joint account. Margot's spending shows up on the same statement."
We look at each other.
"I'll do it," Zero says. Already moving.
"We all do it," I say. "Together. Last time we give him even a second of our fucking time."
Richard is in his study.
I can smell the bourbon from the hallway. The study is dark except for the desk lamp.
Zero opens the door without knocking.
Richard looks up from the armchair. Glass half empty. Eyes bloodshot.
He’s been drinking himself in a stupor all day. Probably upset about Margot being gone, probably pissed at us. I don’t really give a fuck how he feels–but if he isn’t being eaten alive with guilt about what he did to Max then he’s worse than I ever thought.
"Boys—"
Zero crosses the room in four strides and has him by the collar before the glass hits the floor.
"Zero—" Richard's hands come up. "Son, I—"
"Don't call me that."
"I made a mistake. I know I made a mistake. What I did to Max was—"
"You're going to open your laptop," Zero says. Each word placed like a knife on a table. "You're going to log into your joint account. You're going to show us every charge Margot made since last night. Hotel. Gas. Flight. Whatever she used the card for, we see it. Right now."
Richard looks past Zero to Atlas. To me.
Atlas says nothing. He stands by the door with his arms at his sides and watches.
I say nothing. I stand beside Atlas.
Richard looks back at Zero.
"Uh, okay," he says. Quiet. "Okay. Let me—let me get to the desk."
Zero releases his collar. Steps back. One step.
Richard sits at the desk. Opens the laptop. His hands are shaking. He pulls up the account. Turns the screen.
Atlas steps forward. Scans it.
"The Ridgemont. Four forty-seven this morning. One room. Fourth floor." He keeps scrolling. Stops. "And two tickets through United. Purchased at six twelve AM."
My stomach drops.
"Flights to where?" Zero.
"It doesn't show the destination on the charge. Just the amount." Atlas pulls his phone out. "Four hundred and eighteen dollars. Two tickets. That's domestic."
"When do they leave?" Zero is already at the door. "Tonight? Tomorrow? Are they already—"
"I can't tell from a credit card charge, Zero. It just shows the purchase."
We both look at Richard.
He's still at the desk. Hands flat. He knows what's coming.
"Where would she go?" I ask. "If she's taking Max out of state. Where?"
"I don't—"
"Think." Zero. One word. Richard flinches.
"Her sister. Georgia. She lives in—in Wisconsin." He stops. Swallows. "She’d go there, I think."
Fuck. We have to move.
"Let’s go get him." Atlas is already mapping the hotel. "Fourteen minutes from here."
Zero looks at me. The same thought behind both our eyes. Fourteen minutes. If those flights are tonight—if Margot is packing Max into a car right now, heading for the airport—fourteen minutes might already be too late.
I look at Richard.
"We're leaving," I say. "And when we come back—if we come back—you and I are going to have a conversation about what happened in that foyer. But right now I want you to hear something from all three of us."
He looks at me.
"You put your hands on him," I say. "In front of his mother. In our house. To our—" I stop. The word I almost say is omega. I catch it. Redirect. "To the person we love. And we will never forgive you for it. Not today. Not next year. Not ever."
Zero, behind me: "You're dead to us."
Atlas, by the door: "We'll discuss the business arrangements separately. But the personal relationship between you and your sons ended last night in the foyer. We'll be in touch through attorneys."
Richard opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "I'm your father."
"You were," I say. "Come on."
I turn. Zero turns. Atlas holds the door for us and closes it behind him without looking back.
We walk down the hall. Through the kitchen. Past the foyer. Atlas grabs the keys off the hook. Zero is already at the front door, pulling it open, and I am two steps behind him when he stops.
He stops so suddenly I nearly walk into his back.
"Zero—"
He doesn't move.
I step around him. Look past him through the open door.
The fountain is running. The porch light catching the spray.
And Max.
He's sitting on the edge of the fountain. Knees drawn up. The olive canvas jacket. His lip swollen, the bruise dark even from here. He looks small against the stone.
Not on a plane. Not in Wisconsin. Not gone.
Here.
Thank fuck.
He looks up. Sees Zero. Sees me. Sees Atlas.
The bond floods open—all four threads, all at once—and it hits me so hard my hand goes to the doorframe. Eighteen hours of stretched wire snapping back into place.
Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.
We just look at each other. The four of us. In the porch light. In the dark.
He’s here.
He’s ours.
I’m not letting him out of my sight ever again.