32. Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-two
Ace
At some point, I take my last pill. Wash it down with an energy drink. Play my music so loud my ears ache as badly as my chest.
At some point, everything goes distant, dark, devastating.
At some point, I’m printing out picture after picture of all the kids, so many kids, too many kids.
At some point, there’s a knock on my office door.
At some point, there’s Matt.
At some point, he leaves.
There are no good options for rescuing Elliot.
On the phone yesterday, Keaton had reminded me that any option where the boy is rescued is a good option. He was right, but I was frustrated and exhausted. I told him to fuck off, but lost steam right after, deflated by the time he’d finished the sentence, “I’ll be there.”
“Really?” I’d asked, suddenly feeling a little too much like that small boy in the closet, looking up at a man who glowed.
“Of course. Just because it’s a taskforce doesn’t mean I won’t be all over that shit. Kellan already got me the fake credentials I need. After we get off this call, I’ll be making one to the head of the taskforce. ”
I couldn’t help but point out, “But you don’t usually do that anymore.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Kids are hard. It’s why Kellan created the system he did for them, separate from everything else, but this is different. This kid is yours. It’s already fucked you up. Let me take a little bit of it now, yeah? Let me go get him for you. Give you that closure.”
I had almost cried then, but Matt moving on the couch pulled me out of it. When I had looked back at him, he’d been sitting up, looking sleepy and warm and - well, other things that don’t matter.
I had told Keaton to be safe and thanked him before turning my focus to Matt, who was watching me with something different in his eyes.
Something analyzing, almost. It’s not a look I enjoyed feeling from him.
I like when he gets curious, asking questions and creating conversations, but this is something else.
Looking at him, I became keanly aware that I just had a conversation I wouldn’t have been able to have in front of the operatives.
Not if I wanted to keep my secrets, at least. My mind was spinning.
What had I said? Was it enough for him to figure it out too?
Or to at least figure out something is off, even if he can’t place what?
Panicking, I had found myself coming up with an excuse to get away from Matt for the first time.
I’d even been a dick about it, though not on purpose.
I hadn’t thought it through when I chose to make the excuse about food.
I know there’s something off about his eating habits, but my brain hasn’t been running on all cylinders, and I’d just known I needed to get him away so I could figure things out.
When I’d announced we should go downstairs and see what’s for dinner, he’d immediately locked up with anxiety.
I wasn’t surprised when he slipped away in the opposite direction when he went out into the hall.
When I’d seen him fifteen minutes later with Bryce and Nolan, Bryce looking like he wasn’t going to let him go anytime soon, I’d been relieved.
Today, nearly 24 hours later, without a single sighting of him since then, I still feel relieved. I hate myself for that, but I just let it pile up on top of everything else on my shoulders as I keep putting one foot in front of the other.
My eyes keep burning, but I can’t seem to cry.
I have an alarm set to go off every 15 minutes.
I’m keeping it together.
I should sleep. Everyone else is sleeping. There’s nothing for me to do. Not really. Nothing that can’t wait.
What is Pasternak doing to Elliot right this minute?
And what about those other kids I found while looking for him?
Twenty-seven of them.
Twenty-seven of them across multiple time zones.
What’s happening to them right now?
I could get some rest, at least. Use the alarms again.
Instead, I pace. I listen to harsh, angry music I don’t even like. I organize the snacks by color of bag or box, then by their ratio of crunchy versus soft, then by savory by sweet, then by color again. I rearrange my trinkets.
When I can’t physically stand up anymore, I sit in my chair.
I set an alarm, lay my arm on my desk, lay my head on my arm.
I try to think of a new idea for the prank war I’ve started with Jake.
It’s my turn, him having pranked me last night.
He had looked so happy afterward. That was the goal.
Just like how I try to make Travis laugh with my fashion rants and get Maison to smile with my gentle teasing about Nolan.
They’ve been through hell. I just want to help them while they try to navigate their escape of it.
I let my eyes fall closed.
The alarm goes off.
I set another.
The alarm goes off.
I set another.
Off.
Another.
Off.
Another.
Another.
Another.
I’m so - it’s not even tired anymore, not even exhausted. It’s something else. I don’t think there’s even a word for it.
Strung out, is what it feels like.
I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes. Is it daytime? Nighttime?
The others are awake. They’re sitting with me. So daytime. Must be.
I ate, right?
No, wait, still eating. I’m eating right now. Burgers. Mac ‘n cheese.
The rescue is happening… soon.
Soon, right?
Yeah.
Soon.
Then I can sleep.
I’ll still have nightmares, but I have to suck it up. I can’t keep doing this. I know that.
I know that.
I do.
Just once. Just a reset. A good sleep, like the one I got after I met with Keaton. Then I can push again, put it off.
Goddamn, my eyelids are so heavy.
My head is fucking killing me.
I think I might throw up.
“Woah, Ace. You fallin’ asleep on us, man?” someone asks.
I look to the left first before realizing the sound came from my right. It makes me a little dizzy, but the world rights itself quickly.
Jake.
It’s Jake sitting next to me.
I’m like 87% sure he’s the one who spoke. I just can’t exactly remember what he’d said.
“Huh?”
“You’re beat. You sure you’re gonna be okay for this? We’re less than 3 hours out.”
I should have saved my last pill, I realize.
What if I mess this mission up? What if I’m not good enough and Elliot gets hurt because of it?
“I’ll be fine,” I remember to say. “I just need-” I press my knuckle into the corner of my eye. “I need to - uh. Fuck.”
I don’t remember what I need to do.
It can’t be that important if I don’t remember, right?
I look up from my plate.
Matt is sitting across from me, his eyebrows tightly knitted together. I smile. I think I smile. I try to smile. Or, well, I think about trying to smile, at the very least.
He lifts a hand, but just flutters it nervously before dropping it again.
“Ace, are you listening?”
I blink at Matt.
He is very pretty. Like, the shape of his face? And the way all his features are, like, arranged? His hair is growing out, too. It’s going to be messy when it’s long enough for the coils to curl. I bet it’ll be soft.
Pretty and soft, all sunshine and-
“Ace.”
It’s loud enough to make Matt jump. I don’t have the energy to jump, but I look over - to the left again, the direction of which the words actually came this time.
Maison ducks his head to meet my eyes, frowning. “You need to sleep.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m telling you, as your team leader, that you need to sleep.”
I look at him. He is a very good team leader. I’m glad it was him I got to work with.
“I’m telling you,” I say slowly, trying not to lose track of the thought as I do. “If I sleep right now, I won’t be awake in 3 hours. I will be fucking useless.”
He stares at me for a long time.
Then he squeezes the back of my neck and says, “6698.”
I blink at him, my head all foggy and wrong.
He looks away from me, guilty, maybe even ashamed, and adds, “Deacon.”
It clicks then.
The code to Deacon’s drug safe.
“Only what you need,” he mutters.
I’m already out of my seat.
If I remember later, I’m going to be giving him a big ass present.
I debated for a while before deciding to only give myself half of my usual benzo dose alongside the upper. I need to be functional, not in happy-land. I would skip the benzo all together, but being triggered to high heaven isn’t functional either.
I should have taken the whole dose of the benzo.
The taskforce is going to breach Borris Pasternak’s private plane in 12 minutes and I can’t fucking breathe.
Carter and Casey want to watch the rescue alongside us operatives, which seems only fair.
I set things up in my office, planning to display the live footage from Keaton’s body camera on the main monitor and everything else on the smaller ones.
I’m hoping they’ll focus mostly on that feed, just to keep their eyes off of Keaton.
Not that he hasn’t taken precautions, covering part of his face and changing his voice for the character he’s pretending to be.
He’s done what he can to keep his cover from getting blown by anyone there or any of the men watching in my office.
If his cover isn’t already blown by me, that is.
I can’t help but think of Matt then. Just a there-and-gone flicker before I force him out of my mind.
I don’t have the mental or emotional capacity for that situation right now.
I have to be focused. Travis, Jake, and Maison might think that I’m illegally hacking into these security feeds for us to spy on the sting operation, but that’s not the truth.
Keaton’s presence there changes the stakes entirely for me.
I’m a part of this, they just don’t know.
Keaton’s body camera is activated, but not showing anything other than the dash of a vehicle for now. That’ll change soon. I glance at my watch. 7 minutes.
The group of men in the office with me all stiffen at once when the rest of the screens flash on, each showing a different perspective. My ear piece is quiet. It’ll only kick on if something goes wrong or Keaton needs to say something to me specifically.
Then I step back, stuffing my hands in my pockets to hide that they’re shaking, and wait.