Chapter 23 Damian
DAMIAN
“Your dad’s done what?” Jack howls, pushing himself between the front seats of my car. “You’re having me on, right?”
“Will you sit the fuck down?” Jasper hisses, exaggeratedly changing gear so that he elbows Jack in the stomach. “And put your bloody seat belt on. You’re no good to us if you’ve been shredded by a windscreen before we’ve found our first clue.”
“Our first clue?! This isn’t Scooby-bloody-Doo,” Jack scoffs, flopping down next to his sister and adamantly not putting on his seat belt. “Damian, who is this wanker again?”
Jasper slams the brakes in retaliation, hard enough that I have to catch myself on the dashboard. Jack isn’t so lucky, and he sails straight through our seats once more.
“Ow, my fucking shoulder!”
“Sorry,” Jasper smirks, needlessly changing gear again. “I saw a squirrel.”
Jack grumbles as he pushes himself upright, his fingers digging into my forearm as he uses me to dislodge himself. My temperature reaches boiling point.
“Will you two grow the hell up. Kit is missing. He’s fucking missing!
And all you can do is squabble while my dad does who knows what to him.
Do you understand that? Do you understand that I don’t know what’s happening to the man I love right now?
We don’t even know if Kit’s still in London, and you two acting like prats isn’t fucking helping.
” My chest heaves and my hands shake. I’m trying to stay strong for Kit, to keep it together so we can find him quickly.
But the reality of the situation is too heavy, and I’m barely holding the panic at bay.
“Hey, we’re going to get him back, alright,” Jane says softly. She grabs Jack with both hands and yanks him back down beside her. “Stop being such a dickhead,” she scolds her brother, leaning over to strap him into the middle seat. “Don’t you want to help Kit?”
“Of course I do,” Jack sulks.
“Well then, stop acting like a bellend.”
“Damian, we’re going to find him,” Jasper says sheepishly, veering onto the wrong side of the road to overtake a white van.
“And you know how Kit is, we might not even have to. He’s tough.
Remember that time he nearly broke my nose because I stole his cheeseburger? He’s not going down without a fight.”
“This tosspot’s right,” Jack nods to my best friend by way of an apology. “If anyone’s in any danger, it’s your sick fuck of a father. When it comes down to it, my money’s on Kit.”
I know they’re trying to reassure me, but all I feel is sick. Yes, Kit’s tough, but he shouldn’t have to be. He shouldn’t have to defend himself, not against his own family, not against a man who’s treated him like his own flesh and blood for years. Kit’s going to be heartbroken by this betrayal.
Damn my father, all the way to hell. It took months to get Kit to trust us when he first moved in, and it was only my constant needling and persistence that got him to lower his walls and show us more than polite smiles and pleasant words.
If my dad’s undone all my hard work, I’ll castrate him myself before Kit gets the chance.
“And you’re sure Kit’s not at yours?” Jane confirms, rummaging through her backpack.
Jasper had asked about the heavy bag when we swung by the twins’ place to pick them up.
Jack just said they’d brought ‘supplies,’ and since I’m still teetering on the right side of the law, for now at least, I decided it was best not to ask.
“No, he’s not there. I’m sure of it.” I reply.
“Your dad’s not got a secret basement or a fancy panic room or something?” Jack adds.
“A panic room?” Jasper snorts, signalling onto my parents’ road.
“Have you seen their house? Clearly, his dad’s got more money than sense.”
“No, he’s moved Kit. I know it,” I say confidently. “I could hear an engine in the background when I called him. He said I’d have to find him.”
I’ve been trying hard not to think about what Kit might be going through, knowing I’ll lose it if I do.
Still, I’m assaulted by images of Kit strung up in my dad’s car, his body folded clumsily into the footwell, hidden from the world by blacked-out windows.
My desperate heart tries to reach out as he’s driven further away from me.
“So, why are we going to your house if we know he isn’t there?” Jane asks, tucking what appears to be a fucking switchblade into the front pocket of her jeans. Jack might be the best petty thief in London, but I’m learning that it’s Jane you need to watch yourself around.
I eye her warily, thankful she’s on my side. “Because Kit could be anywhere. There has to be something in Dad’s office that’ll give us an idea where he might have taken him.”
We fall into a tense silence until the crunch of stone gravel beneath my tyres welcomes me home. Jasper skids to a halt behind Kit’s car, and I nearly break down at the sight.
Kit, please, please be okay.
I’m out of the car and stumbling up my front steps before Jasper’s even turned off the engine, the sharp slip of footfall on loose stones behind me the only sign that the others have followed.
I burst through the door with enough force that it obliterates the bougie little table that once held a bowl for our keys. The porcelain now lies shattered across the tiled floor, infiltrated by the stained glass that’s broken out of the doorframe.
“Kit!” I scream, stepping over the mess to search through our once joyful home. “Kit, are you here? Talk to me!”
It’s pointless, I know it is, but I can’t help it when I still feel Kit here.
His spiced scent lingers in the hallway, and the ghost of his laughter echoes around the empty walls of the den.
His winter coat is still hung over the bannister.
Dad hates it when we do that. Why did I hire a handyman to screw in all these bloody hooks if you never use them?
Damn, Kit must be cold without a jacket.
I unhook it from the post and hug it to my chest, but all it does is feed the ache that’s taken root.
“Hey, Damian,” Jasper shouts from across the entrance hall. He’s crouched by the shattered bowl, nudging the shards carefully with his fingers. “I think Kit’s phone is under here.”
I kneel beside him, and sure enough, I spot the small device hidden under the splintered table. Carefully, I fish it out, only to find it completely unusable. Its screen is smashed, and the metal is dented. Kit must have dropped it with some force to cause this much damage.
Jack pales, and Jane’s hands fly to her mouth. If either of them was in any doubt before as to the seriousness of the situation, they aren’t now. Jasper doesn’t need a reminder. He saw the hidden camera footage.
Not for the first time, I ask myself why I left him alone tonight. Why didn’t I make him stay with me instead of sending him back here?
“I need to break into my dad’s office,” I say, unable to tear my eyes away from what was Kit’s only lifeline.
“I can do that easy,” Jack offers, and Jane hands him a small, black pouch from the front of her backpack. “Lockpicking kit,” he explains. “That’s why you called us, right?”
I nod, not even bothering to deny it.
Jack takes the stairs two at a time, dragging Jane behind him. The pair somehow know the way to my dad’s office without any direction. I wonder how many fancy pens or gold-plated fucking paperclips my dad’s unwittingly lost to Jack’s… skills… over the years. I hope it’s a fucking mint’s worth.
“Who was that?”
I spin on my heels, falling into Jasper as we come face to face with my stepmother. She sways precariously on the spot, white knuckling a glass of wine like it’ll somehow keep her upright. Well, that explains how unconcerned she is about the remodelled, substantially draughtier entryway behind me.
“Where’s Kit? Shouldn’t he be attached to your hip?
” Leah slurs nastily. Her usually immaculate lipstick is smudged under her mouth, and her mascara paints a sad trail down her cheek.
“Oh, wait,” she remembers sarcastically.
“Lucien’s decided that taking Kit to a dance lesson is far more important than spending time with his actual wife. ”
I stare at her in disbelief. How can this woman be so oblivious? “A dance lesson? Leah, have you seen the fucking time?”
“Kit probably hired another one of those studios or something. I’ve no idea why he had to rope Lucien into taking him. You know, I’d almost managed to get rid of him tonight, convinced Lucien to let Kit go away with you so that we’d finally have some time to ourselves–”
“For god’s sake, Leah, Kit is missing!” I yell, unable to listen to another second of her bullshit. Leah doesn’t even flinch. “He’s not at a bloody dance lesson. Your husband took him, god knows where, against his will, and we have to find him.”
Leah looks at her wine glass, debating whether it’s to blame for this strange turn of events. It’s then that she finally catches the mess on the floor. She trails her eyes over the broken porcelain and shattered glass until she pulls her gaze to the busted front door.
“Damian, did you break my stained-glass window?”
I barely resist the urge to knock the drink from her hand. “Focus, Leah! Do you know where Lucien might have taken Kit?”
“Lucien wouldn’t take Kit anywhere.”
I growl in frustration. “I was on the phone with Kit when it happened. You should have heard him, Leah. Your son was terrified. If only you knew what’s been happening in your own house. How could you not have known what your husband was doing?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she yells back.
“He’s been filming Kit in his bedroom and uploading it to porn sites for years. Years, Leah! Right under your fucking nose.”
Leah blanches, the fight draining out of her before my eyes. “What?” Her quiet voice breaks. “I don’t believe you. Why would he do a thing like that?”
“It’s true, Mrs Hansel,” Jasper says, pulling my phone from his pocket and unlocking the screen. He must have grabbed it when I bolted from the car. “See for yourself.”