Chapter 23 Homesick （Margot）
HOMESICK (MARGOT)
Twenty Minutes Earlier
Ithink my kidnapper might be the dumbest man alive for thinking I’d go out easy.
The second Lee grabs me, my fight instinct wakes up.
There’s no one close enough to hear me, but I scream my lungs out anyway.
I read somewhere once that you can’t always scream if stress puts you in a choke hold. That’s why people carry around whistles, I suppose.
Whatever the science—and I am stressed—I don’t have any problem making noise.
Piercing, earsplitting, eagle screech loud.
He swears and grabs my arms, wrenching them behind my back.
I throw myself down, resisting.
And I’d keep doing it, if only his boot didn’t find my stomach.
Blinding pain.
I hate it as much as I hate him because it smothers my resistance.
The next few minutes are a blur as he drags me through the house and out into the rain.
We almost trip over the limp, groaning body of Joseph Babin. He’s alive, but who knows for how long.
Even with my stomach in sick knots, churning, I don’t give up.
Raw, animal instinct takes over, fear and adrenaline swirling in a lethal cocktail until I’m acting on sheer impulse without any higher thought.
He’s taking me to the cellar, into the damp and darkness.
No!
I bite his arm. Claw at his hands.
Attack, attack, attack like a crazed wolverine, wherever I can find some skin to bruise or bloody.
I’m on the ground now, barely avoiding his feet as he tries to crush my skull.
Writhing.
Screaming.
His boot slams into my ribs and presses down, knocking the wind from my lungs.
Only when I’m truly cornered, that’s when I start begging.
It’s not a conscious decision, but it’s inevitable as he reaches down, growling, and starts lugging me toward the storm shelter again. I wonder if he saw me emerge earlier or if he found it when he came creeping around.
“Enough,” he snarls, digging his fingers into my arm.
Galaxies of nerves light up in agony.
“Stop, please!” I strangle out into the storm. My wet hair slaps my face, the wind tossing it into my mouth as I try to breathe. “Please, just let me go.”
“Shut the fuck up, little girl,” he snarls as he releases me with one hand to reach down for the shelter doors.
I take the opportunity to buck free. He curses as he catches my arm and swings me back around.
I collide with his leg.
Copper explodes in my mouth. I bite my tongue.
Between the blood and that savage kick to my belly earlier, I’m going to be sick.
Holy shit, can this get any worse?
“Knock it off. Get down there,” he orders, pushing me toward the steps.
Oh, God.
They’re still slick from the rain, and I almost slip, catching myself against the damp wall.
It’s the first time he’s let me have any space.
I’m not done yet.
I know I can’t beat him in a fight, not when I’m hurt and weakened like this, so I grab my phone.
There’s a call coming through and I swipe to answer as I stumble forward into the darkness. I mute it just in time.
Kane.
He must be worried sick, and he should be.
I want to cry with relief, but the second I hear his voice, Lee will know the cops are on their way.
Still, I press the screen against my chest so that square of light doesn’t give me away.
Lee has his own flashlight, and he slams the door behind him, shutting us both in the killing darkness. The storm’s roar dims.
There’s something glinting and metal in his other hand—a gun?
Not that surprising, really, even as my bruised stomach drops to my knees.
I don’t know why he didn’t use it before, but there’s no denying this could get really messy, really fast.
I regret answering Kane’s call now.
He can’t help me with this, and all I’m doing is luring a selfless single father to his death.
Fresh nausea flips my stomach over.
“Please.” I turn to face him again.
“Shut it,” he growls, walking toward me.
I disconnect the call a split second before my knees buckle and I’m dry heaving.
Miraculously, I don’t vomit.
God, I need air.
My breath comes too fast, too loud, echoing in the small space as he marches down the steps toward me. His gun points through me, aiming at my future grave down here.
“You finally get it out of your system?” We lock eyes. “Not another peep from you, princess. I don’t have the time or patience. You’ve made me very late.”
It’s the way he stares at me through the shadows, I think.
Those eyes, they aren’t human.
They’re so empty.
Seriously, how can this be the same guy who flirted with me? Who sold us his lovely plates and mugs we’ve used for meals?
Why has he gone total psycho?
“Please,” I whisper, my voice cracking pathetically. “Please, don’t—”
His gun comes up to my face and clicks.
I wince.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me when I said ‘shut it’ before?
” He bares his teeth. “Since you’ve insisted on being part of this, Miss Blackthorn, I’ll let him see you alive again.
But only if you’re silent.” He glances down to where I’m still clutching the phone against my chest, and his expression hardens. “And you’ll hand that over. Right now.”
I don’t mean to scream when he rips it from my hands, hurling it down and stomping the screen, but I can’t help it.
My only connection to the world, obliterated before my eyes.
I suck my bleeding lip, staring at the smashed glass and metal bits.
His gun never flinches, so ready to end my life in a heartbeat. I slump against the floor, shivering and cold.
I look back up at him, replaying his sinister words.
“Part of what? What did I do to you?” I whisper bitterly.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You can’t be that stupid.”
“What… what’s this about? Money? Is that it? Because I have that. If you’ll forget about me and Kane, I can fork over whatever you want. I know about crypto, you can have it in a few hours. Totally anonymously. You can go start over on the other side of the world if you just—”
“No! Fuck you and your money.” Suddenly he’s too close, growling in my face, the barrel of the gun biting my cheek with a freezing sting that makes me jump.
“I know this is news to a spoiled brat like you, but there’s more to life than the billions you’ve robbed from everyone else. You’re just like him.”
His voice drips hate.
I don’t need to ask.
I don’t dare answer.
I just hold myself as still as I can, willing myself to become a disembodied lump of clay, no different from the little shoes abandoned on the worktable.
When one wrong move could leave you dead, sometimes it’s best not to play at all.
Lee pulls back with a vicious smirk. His face looks like a mask on a mannequin, no one and nothing behind those cruel grey eyes.
I’m just a messy complication to him. Not a sworn enemy.
Just a nuisance he didn’t plan for.
He isn’t even enjoying my horror. He’s sizing me up, calculating how fast he can dispose of me so he can get back to the real mission.
“No wonder you wound up with Kane Saint,” he grinds out.
“We’re not—” I stop because there’s no point in lying. “What does it matter? Why is that so awful?”
“Why do you think, princess?”
Oh my God, Kane.
Kane.
I start shivering. He knows I’m in trouble. The cops might be on their way right now, but between the storm and the madman pointing a gun at my head…
Does it matter?
I swallow more blood reluctantly.
This place is so deep in the ground the walls are probably soundproof. No way anyone hears anything, if I’m still alive by the time they—
Shit.
Shit!
I need to think fast. Delay him from pulling that trigger.
What if the best thing to do is to keep the devil talking?
Listen to his venom, his threats and promises, his deranged grudge against a man who couldn’t have possibly done anything to drive him to violence.
“Why are you here?” I whisper when he takes a few steps away, slowly studying the abandoned art, the small glass door.
Enough space so I can breathe.
“To right a wrong,” he whispers darkly before facing me again.
“What’s wrong? What did Kane do to you?” I shake my head, showing my confusion. “Did you know him in his hockey days?”
“Hockey?” Surprise flashes across his face before that lifeless mask drops again. “He really didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Jesus, no. Please. Help me understand.”
He hesitates, fondling the gun with his free hand before he drops it at his side.
“Kane Saint took my life.” He slides down the wall in front of the stairs, gun held more loosely now but still pointed at me.
“As soon as his company launched that fucking software, I was out of a job in months. My clients, ghosting overnight. I had to limp back to the ceramics work I did in college before I ever consulted on a multimillion-dollar home. And no one buys this shit—not nearly enough to keep food on the table, much less live.”
Oh, OptiSynth.
I should’ve guessed.
Because Kane gave me a very good idea how many lives were thrown into turmoil with the corporate betrayal.
Still, I didn’t think too deep. I couldn’t visualize how much it must’ve wrecked good, hardworking, talented people on the ground.
And some of them were clearly unstable.
Neither of us could’ve guessed how deep the damage went.
Yet here it is, all sharp teeth, ready to tear through me, through Kane, through the kids.
I draw in another deep, shaky breath.
It’s all I can do to keep from breaking down on the spot.
“I was at the top of my field,” he whispers, lost in his own mind.
“My work won awards. I made homes out of blank slates for rich people like you. Years of service, many awards—and when I had a chance to sign on to a new pilot program in its testing phase that promised to make everything I do faster and better, how could I say no? And even if I had, there was no stopping the inevitable. My career was destined to die. A sacrifice for the gods of AI.”
Finally, a spark.
Something human.
Something hurt.
Something dangerous.
I believe him, too.