Chapter 31
Aidan
Idon’t enter the room and crowd her. She doesn’t need that right now.
What she needs is to pull herself together and decide if she’s doing this or not.
My job right now is to make sure she is fed, has her herbal anti-depressant and the vitamins I’ve bought for her body to catch up with the fight her mind is finally putting up.
I stand in the kitchen and line the tablets up on the counter.
The control settles me. It gives my hands something to do instead of putting them through a wall.
I hear Ethan moving back to his room to get dressed. Callan is still with her while she decides what to do.
Jack won’t be back here again. He wanted us to see him, and we did. Now he has gone to ground again and will only resurface when he thinks he can get to her. We need to appear to be giving him that opportunity.
When I hear the hairdryer start up, I take that as a good sign.
We are going ahead with Annabelle leaving the house.
That’s as far as my expectation goes. We aren’t going to force her.
We aren’t pushing or manipulating. This is her choice.
One step at a time to get her to the library, and if she wants to bail, she bails.
We find another way. I know Ethan has already told her all of this, but I’ll be repeating it, so she knows we are all on the same page.
The hairdryer cuts off after a few minutes.
I hear low voices. Callan and Annabelle.
I can’t make out the words, but the rhythm is steady. No panic. No shouting.
Good.
I pour coffee into a mug and set it on the counter next to the tablets.
The smell hits me, sharp and familiar. Normal.
I need normal right now because every instinct I have is screaming at me to go down to street level and hunt Jack through the city until I find him.
But that’s not how this works. He’s too careful.
Too patient. He’ll slip away the second he knows we’re coming, and then we lose our advantage.
Annabelle appears in the hallway. She’s dressed. Hair dried. Face pale but set with determination that kicks me in the gut. She looks like she’s going to war.
“Morning, little bell,” I say, keeping my voice even.
Her eyes flick to the tablets lined up on the counter, then to me. “That’s a lot of pills.”
“Vitamins. Your body needs them.” I push the coffee toward her. “And caffeine.”
She moves closer and picks up the mug, taking a sip before setting it down again. Her fingers hover over the row of tablets. “What are all of these?”
“Omega 3, vitamin D, iron, B complex, and magnesium.” I tap each one as I list them.
She glances up at me, and something shifts in her expression. Not quite trust, but close enough. She pops the herbal capsule in her mouth and washes it down with coffee. Then she takes the rest, one by one, until the counter is clear.
“Good girl,” I murmur before I can stop myself.
Her cheeks go pink, but she doesn’t look away. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Talk to me like that when I’m trying to be brave.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me want to stay in this apartment where it’s safe instead of going out there and being bait for a serial killer.”
Fair point. She’s wound tight, ready to snap, but she’s determined. That’s more than I expected this morning after last night’s revelation.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say.
“Ethan already said that.”
“I’m saying it too. We’ll find another way if you need us to.”
She picks up the mug again and stares into the dark liquid. “There is no other way, though, is there? Not really. He’s out there. He wants me. The only question is whether I make it easy for him or whether I make him work for it while you close in.”
“That’s about it.”
Her jaw clenches. “Then I’m doing it.”
“You sure?”
“No.” She takes another sip of coffee. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
I move around the counter until I’m standing in front of her. Close enough to smell her shampoo. “If at any point you want to get out, just tell us. You don’t push through if it gets too much. You bail.”
Her blue eyes meet mine, and I see the war happening behind them. Fear. Determination. Exhaustion. “You’re giving me a lot of credit.”
“I’m giving you what you deserve.” I brush my thumb over her cheek. “You’re not weak for being scared. You’re smart.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m failing?”
“Because you’ve spent four years telling yourself you should be stronger than you are. That stops now. You’re exactly as strong as you need to be.”
Her eyes go glassy, and I see her swallow hard. “Don’t make me cry before I’ve even left the apartment.”
I drop my hand and step back. “Eat. You need to leave here with a full stomach and a clear mind.”
“Where will all of you be?”
“We have to be covert. Ethan will drop you off. He has been doing that anyway. But Callan will leave from the back in a different car and follow a few minutes later as a decoy. Then, I’ll leave. We will all be outside or in the library.”
“This sounds really complicated,” she says, but picks up her fork to eat the scrambled eggs.
The tension in her shoulders tells me everything. She’s going through the motions, doing what needs to be done, but her mind is already out there on the street where Jack is waiting.
“It’s not that complicated,” I say. “But we need to make sure that if Jack is watching, he doesn’t see a pattern. He needs to think you’re vulnerable.”
“I am vulnerable.”
“You’re protected.” I watch her take another bite, making sure she’s actually eating and not just pushing food around.
“I hope so, because if he takes me and I die, I’m coming back to haunt you all.”
“That’s the spirit,” I say with a slow smile. “Dark humour is where I live.”
She inhales slowly, deeply and then releases it, trying not to panic.
“You’ve got this, Annabelle. I know you do. You want to do this not just for yourself but for your mother, and our mother and everyone else. That’s more powerful than the fear. Don’t let him take that from you too.”
She sets down her fork and looks at me like she’s trying to see if I mean it or if I’m just saying what she needs to hear. Whatever she finds must be enough because she picks up the fork again and finishes the eggs.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“For what?”
“For not treating me like I’m made of glass.”
“You’re not glass. You’re steel that’s been bent.”
Her mouth curves up in an almost smile. “That’s poetic for you.”
“I have my moments.”
Ethan appears in the hallway, dressed in his usual black. He looks calm, controlled, ready. Everything I need to be and currently am not.
“Ready?” he asks Annabelle.
She takes a final sip of coffee and sets the mug down with deliberate care. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Then let’s go.”
She stands up, her shoulders square, and she becomes the version of herself that can walk into hell and keep her head up.
Annabelle catches my eye. “You’re doing the scary face again.”
“I’ve only got one face.”
“That’s a lie.”
The lift doors open before I can answer. Annabelle and Ethan move into the lift, and I have to let her go, even though every cell in my body wants to keep her here and protected.
But that isn’t the way Jack plays, and unfortunately, we are playing his game.
For now.