Chapter 22 217 a.m.
Chapter twenty-two
Cal
The world is black. Soundless, weightless. Then the pain drags me back.
Rain as cold as ice pelts my face, sharp as needles. My head throbs, and fire courses through my shoulder and arm. As if branded with a white-hot iron. When I lift my gaze, the fractured flashing caution light from the nearby intersection and the pulse from the storm are all I see.
I’m still on the sidewalk.
How did I get here?
My thoughts come in fragments.
Niko’s gun.
Rose’s scream as he took her.
The pain.
The sound of thunder swallowing her whole.
A low groan tears out of me as I try to move, and pain explodes through my shoulder. My opposite hand shoots up to clamp it, but the effort only makes it worse. Gritting my teeth, I push myself upright, my palm coming away from my shirt slick and warm with my blood.
Everything spins, edges blurring, before it finally steadies. Then another wave hits. This one’s sharp as splitting pain radiates from the back of my skull. I reach up, fingers brushing over my hair until they find the same familiar sticky goo. More blood.
I must have blacked out, fallen, and smacked my skull on the ground. There’s nothing but the cold and wet pavement where my head was resting, with no sign of blood.
The rain has already washed most of it away.
“Rose…” Her name leaves my lips in a broken rasp. I survey the scene: an empty street, that same annoying flashing light buzzing overhead, and puddles reflecting the somber, gray sky.
No sign of her.
No sign of him.
I drag myself to my feet, bracing against the side of the building. Is this the parking garage? I’m not sure. My bearings are off. With shaking hands, I pull out my phone from my back pocket and, miraculously, it’s still intact.
The screen glows. 2:17 a.m.
Two hours.
Two damn hours since I was shot.
Two hours since she was taken.
So much can happen in two hours.
I scroll through my contacts, press the phone to my ear, and call the one person I can trust.
“Cal,” Denny answers before the first ring finishes
“It’s me,” I manage, roughly and wet with rain.
“Jesus, where are you? I’ve been calling you for the last hour. I assumed you were still stuck in the elevator. You sound like hell.”
“She’s gone,” I choke out. “Niko … he took Rose. He shot me. I’m outside the garage near the back of the hotel.”
Silence hangs as Denny processes. “Who in the hell is Niko? Never mind.” I can hear the unspoken compassion in his voice on the other end. “You’re hit? Where? How bad?”
I glance over at my wound and the hole in my shirt.
“My shoulder. It went clean through. I’ll live, but I think I’ve lost a lot of blood,” I mutter, pressing harder against the wound.
“Plus, I hit my head. I probably have a concussion.” I squeeze my eyes, testing out my self-diagnosis.
Everything blurs and then focuses slowly.
I was right. “But we can’t waste any time.
He’s got her, and we’re already behind.”
“Alright,” Denny says, switching into command mode. “You’re hurt, so stay where you are. I’m sending units and an ambulance. We’ll get you patched up, then we’ll start the search. You hear me? Don’t move!”
“I’m not waiting,” I snap, forcing myself upright. The world spins, but I hold steady. “He’s got a two-hour head start, and if he’s working with someone—”
“Cal.” Denny’s control cuts through hard. “If you go down again, you’re no good to her. Stay put.”
I close my eyes, fighting the urge to throw the phone. The rain pounds harder, washing the blood from my hands.
For once, I do as I’m told.
I sink back against the wall, clutching my shoulder, listening to the thunder fade into the distance.
But in my memory, all I can hear is her calling my name as she was dragged away.
And I swear to God, I won’t stop until I get her back.
With all the strength I have left in me, I push off the brick.
And race straight for the door he took her through.