Ash #2
The sun’s out in full force now, so I head around the back in search of some shade. For once, the car park’s empty, so I sit on the edge of the kerb and take advantage of the peace and quiet. Round the back here is as secluded as you can get with a shop, but at least I’m shielded from the road.
Leaning back, I rest against the wall and close my eyes for a moment.
So much has happened in the last fourteen hours; yesterday seems like it was weeks ago.
When I looked in the mirror this morning, I expected to look different, because I feel so fucking different.
Bite mark aside, I look exactly the same as I always have.
But nothing is the same.
And it won’t ever be again.
I got so caught up in the wonder of experiencing Callum’s emotions as he felt them that I haven’t stopped to think what this means for us. For me. We’re gonna have to have a conversation about that, and soon.
Christ.
Now I’m out here with nothing else to focus on, that emptiness in my chest is harder to ignore. It’s like my hand’s drawn to it, rubbing at that spot over my heart like that’ll help.
It doesn’t.
I need to see him.
I want to, and I don’t know how to feel about the fact that it seems out of my control.
I pull my phone out, absently registering a car pulling into the car park out of the corner of my eye.
I debate calling Cal, but I don’t know what goes on over at their compound, what he might be in the middle of. I settle for a text instead.
Ash: Hey. Can you come over after Morgan drops me home? I need to see you
The reply comes quicker than I’m expecting. It makes me smile.
Cal: Everything okay. I can come now
God, I didn’t mean to sound so fucking desperate. The ache intensifies, mocking me.
Ash: I’m fine. I just
I hesitate, not sure how to put it without sounding clingy as fuck, and manage to hit Send by accident.
Fuck.
Ash: I miss you. And my chest aches. I think I need to be near you to make it go away
Cal: Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would affect you like that because you’re human
Wait, what?
Ash: Are you feeling the same as me?
Cal: Yes. Of course I am. Our bond is new, Ash. Every second I’m away from you hurts
Does it make me a bad person that I feel better hearing that? Either way, I do. To know that I’m not alone with this awful, empty feeling deep in my chest.
Ash: Can you come earlier? Morgan’s meeting me after work so I can tell him, but maybe after that?
Cal: I’ll be there when he leaves
I roll my eyes, knowing that means he’ll most likely follow us home and wait outside for Morgan to go. I don’t hate that as much as I should.
Ash: Ok. See you later
Cal: Looking forward to it
The sound of footsteps has me looking up, and the blood freezes in my veins at the sight of Ray Wilson and Jeff Stokes heading towards me. They’re both smiling at me, but all I can think is You tortured Morgan’s dad.
It takes effort to stop my hands from shaking and to plaster a smile on my face as I stand to greet them.
Morgan didn’t go into explicit detail but enough that just the sight of them makes me sick to my stomach.
And I can’t show it. Can’t let on that I know anything Morgan told me.
If they were willingly involved in torturing another human being, then who the fuck knows what they might do to me?
I glance around the car park, but it’s empty apart from their car. Really wishing for some customers right about now. “Officers,” I manage, surprised when my voice comes out relatively normal. “Tim’s shift lead today if you need something.”
Wilson’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Stokes has given up pretending to be friendly. “We were looking for you, actually. Tim told us you were out here on a break.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Me?” Don’t panic, Ash. Stay calm. They can’t do anything to you out here in the open. “What for?” I’m overreacting, I know I am, but my gut suggests otherwise.
“Thought we’d update you on your missing phone.”
“My phone?” It takes a second for my brain to focus on his words and connect the dots. “Oh, my nan’s.”
There’s a flicker of annoyance from Stokes, but he hides it quickly. “Yes, your grandmother’s.” The coldness of his tone sets me on edge.
“Have you found it?”
“We have.” Wilson grimaces. “But I’m afraid it isn’t salvageable.”
“Okay, well it was only a cheap basic one anyway. And she’s dead,” I add, surprised at how cold I sound when I say that. “So I guess it doesn’t matter. Now.”
Wilson has the gall to offer me a sad smile, like he cares.
“We were sorry to hear about her passing.” He reaches out like he’s going to touch me, and images flood my head of Morgan’s dad: bloody and broken, with Ray Wilson at the very least watching and doing nothing.
I react without thinking, stepping back so quickly I trip over the kerb and fall into the wall.
My shoulder takes the brunt of it, and I gasp at the pain that shoots across my back. “Shit.”
They both surge forward to help me, but adrenaline floods my body, fight or flight kicking in, and I scramble to the side. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
They freeze.
Then share a look that tells me I’m well and truly fucked.
All pretence of being friendly disappears between one breath and the next. Wilson sneers, opens his mouth to say something, but I’m not waiting around to hear what it is. Lurching to the side, I scramble to my feet, hissing in pain when I use both hands to push myself upright.
I make it two steps before I’m tackled to the ground, hands yanked behind my back. I cry out, my wrist protesting the angle, my face smashed into the rough ground.
“Go get the fucking car,” Wilson orders, slapping zip ties on me since his handcuffs won’t fit over my brace.
He pulls a knife out of his pocket and flicks out the blade.
It’s not all that long, but it looks sharp.
I hate to think of the damage it could do.
He presses it against my ribs. “Don’t make a scene, Ash. ”
“You can’t do this,” I grunt as he hauls me to my feet.
“Oh yeah? Who’s going to stop us?” He gestures at the empty car park. “Your colleagues are busy clearing up the mess we accidentally left inside.”
“There are cameras.” I nod up at the small cameras mounted up above us. I’m expecting him to be worried, but he shrugs, unconcerned. “We’ve already taken care of those. It’ll be a while before anyone realises they’re no longer recording.”
I’m praying for someone, anyone, to come outside and see what’s going on, but Stokes is already reversing out of his parking space.
When he pulls alongside us, Wilson opens the back door and shoves me inside, climbing in after me. He grabs my hair, forcing me to lie as flat as I can. My stomach sinks as I notice the windows are tinted. Even if anyone comes out now, they won’t know I’m in here.
“This wasn’t the plan,” Stokes hisses as he turns the car around.
“He knows. We had no choice.”
“Really? He didn’t even say anything. How can you—”
Wilson slams his hand on the back of the seat. “He fucking knows, Jeff. You could see it in his eyes. We can’t risk him running around telling everyone.”
Stokes’ fingers tap the steering wheel, agitated. “So now what?”
“I don’t know.”
“We can’t just drive around with him in the back of my car. What if we get stopped for fucks sake?”
Wilson scoffs. “By who?”
“We’re on shift tonight. He can’t stay in my car and I’m sure as fuck not taking him home.”
“I know,” Wilson yells. The hand he has in my hair tightens painfully, but I daren’t move or complain. They seem to be ignoring me for now, and I want to keep it that way.
My phone’s still in my pocket.
Morgan can trace it with the app. My shift finishes in under two hours. As soon as he arrives and can’t find me, he’s going to start looking. I just need to stay alive and in one piece until then.
I think of Callum and our bond, and I wish it was fucking strong enough for him to feel my emotions right now.
“Well?” Stokes snaps.
“Jesus Christ, I’m thinking.”
“Well, think quicker. I don’t like this.”
“And you think I do?”
“What about the house?”
House?
Wilson curses under his breath. “We’re not supposed to go there.”
“This is their fucking problem as much as it is ours.”
Fuck. Do they mean Morgan’s old house?
“I knew Webb wouldn’t keep his mouth shut.” He finally lets me go. “You can blame him for getting you involved in this, Ash.”
“Fuck off.” I struggle to sit up, but he leans in and presses his knife against my throat.
“Don’t.”
Two hours.
That’s all I need to ride this out for. Then someone’s going to come looking for me.
“Fine,” Wilson grits out. “Take him to the house.”
They both lapse into silence.
It’s broken seconds later by the faint buzz of an incoming text.
Shit. Shit-shit-shit.
I hold my breath, praying they didn’t hear it, but—
“Fuck.” Wilson starts to frantically pat me down with the hand not holding his knife.
Stokes’ head whips round. “You didn’t check for his fucking phone?”
“Fuck you, you didn’t either.” He grabs it from my pocket, lowers the back window, and tosses it.
It disappears from view.
Gone.
Along with any hope I have of being found.