Chapter 54
Xander
My head hurts, and I can’t open my fucking eyes.
It’s cold, and the air smells slightly damp.
“Oh, good. He’s awake.”
I recognise that voice—I’ve heard it somewhere before—but the only female voice I’ve ever paid attention to wholly is my Angel’s.
Camila. Camila and her bright green eyes, burdened with sadness she never deserved. I think I’m smiling? I don’t know. My head doesn’t feel like it’s part of my body, but when I open my eyes, I swear I’m going to make her the happiest person on the planet. I’ll buy her all the cats—
“What the fuck have you got to smile about?”
“Nova?” I mumble, my voice not quite audible.
Heavy. My head is starting to feel heavy now.
And Nova. She set us up.
“He was always fucking strange.”
There’s that voice again. But it’s not full of annoyance like Camila’s. This voice sounds angry and—
Wait… I can’t move my hands. They start buzzing to life with feeling, rubbing against rough rope.
I groan as a shooting pain explodes in my head.
I attempt to open my eyes, but a bright white light makes me shut them again quickly.
I hiss at the sting and notice that my eye feels like it's the size of a golf ball.
Is it swollen?
A searing pain throws my head to the side, and a loud smack fills the room, wherever that is.
“Open your eyes.”
I push to open my eyes again—this time slower—so that I can see where the fuck I am and why I’m tied up to this chair when I should be out there looking for Camila.
I’m coming to myself a little bit now, body aching, registering that throb in my head as being knocked out.
All feelings of rage come rushing to the surface, and I yank myself to stand.
Or at least try to. My hands are tied behind my back, and my legs are bound to the bottom of a wooden chair.
So as soon as I make an attempt at lunging out of it, I fall forward, my head hitting cold concrete, blasting a scorching pain through my head and my knees that are trapped between the chair and the floor.
Groaning, I roll myself onto my side, trapping my arm beneath me in the process.
“Don’t fancy helping me anymore?” I cough out.
How ironic that Nova took me in when I went off the rails. It was all a ploy to get me right here. To get Camila to Luke.
I pry my eyes open to a silhouette of a woman with long, brown hair. Her face comes into focus, and it’s like my brain is trying to make sense of this woman in a pristine, white suit squatting in front of me with a scowl.
“It’s nice of you to finally be awake, Alexander.” She gives me a sinister smile.
I squint when she moves to the side, revealing the single bulb of white light and concrete walls. Concrete walls that I’m all too familiar with.
I’m inside the DL basement.
Where the hell is Jac?
“Oh, don’t look so shocked. You should’ve known this was coming.”
“What— Who the fuck are you?” I croak. It’s not Nova. This woman is too pale. Too hard-looking. Nova may have a hard exterior, but her eyes are soft.
“You really don’t recognise me, do you?” she asks as she steps to the side towards Jac’s table of torture equipment, and my eyes focus on multiple other men dressed in all-black suits, along with another woman dressed in that signature red she always wears.
“Penelope?” I grunt, my breaths coming in short pants. She looks guilty as sin standing in the shadows, clutching a tablet to her chest.
How the fuck did she escape Nova?
“Bring him up,” the woman commands, and two men hook their arms under each of my armpits, heaving me upright in the chair. Pain coats my body as they slide their arms out, making me slump down.
Have they fucking beaten me?
All events prior to me getting knocked the fuck out start gushing back in.
Camila. Her phone. The texts. Luke.
“Where the fuck is Camila?” I heave through the soreness.
“And there it is,” the woman chuckles.
She looks so familiar, but not. Dark hair, brown eyes, and an aged face.
“Who is this bitch?” someone slurs.
My eyes snag on a large frame slumped in a chair beside me.
Jac.
Though he’s not tied, nor does his face look like it wears any bruises. His head swivels from side to side with his chin pressed to his chest, and his black shirt has a small hole in the side of his torso.
He’s been drugged.
He’s the only one that’s capable of getting us out of here. I fucking pray he pulls out of it soon.
Why is he untied?
The female hums as she approaches a laptop perched on the table, only the hush of her suit audible in the basement as she moves.
Her pawns are standing around the perimeter of the room, watching my every move.
Penelope slides a small table in front of me, refusing to make eye contact.
I glare at her as she shuffles back into the corner.
The mystery woman places the laptop in front of me with a paused video on the screen of what looks like two figures in the middle of a shipping dock.
Me and Jac.
I raise my swollen eyebrow at her smug face, and she tuts, pressing the space bar to play the video. There’s no sound. It’s us securing the last drug deal before we were ambushed by the Turkish dealers a few months ago. My face burns hot with anger.
I’m not stupid. One wrong move, and she sends that to the authorities.
But what’s worse is every second I spend away from Camila, the more chance there is of her being hurt. If that cockhead hurts her, if she dies…
I quickly wipe the thought away and glare at the woman. “It was you.”
She huffs a laugh. “Of course it was me.”
That’s not important right now. I have a list of priorities, and if sending that video wherever she intends to send it keeps my Angel safe, then so be it.
“Where. Is. Camila?” I spit. My patience is wearing thin, not that I had any to begin with.
I can feel the adrenaline taking over my body, but I have to be smart about this.
I can’t make any movements yet. I need Jac to recover first. And knowing him, he would’ve sent out an SOS to our team as soon as I walked inside DL.
“Now, Alexander—”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I interrupt. There are only a handful of people that know my full name. She’s either taking a really wild, correct guess, or she knows exactly who I am. Someone from my past. I have a feeling it's the latter.
Jac mumbles something inaudible; I glance over to make sure he’s okay.
“Do not interrupt me,” she scoffs. “You can either cooperate with us, or I'll make you watch while your girlfriend gets fucked then killed."
Bile rises in my throat as she shoves a phone in my face with less-than-clear live CCTV footage. There’s a girl lying in the middle of a dark room that only has a few gaps of light shining in. It can’t be later than early morning. My stomach bottoms out as I realise she’s showing me Camila.
Fuck.
Keep your head clear, keep your head clear.
I don’t trust a fucking word this woman says. She’ll kill Camila regardless of whatever information she wants out of me.
“What do you want, you sick fuck?” I press.
“Oh, fuck, my head,” Jac utters.
Yes.
The woman cuts her gaze to him, glancing at one of her lackeys who moves to stand beside Jac.
Fuck.
“I want to destroy you,” she snarls, bending over to be eye level with me.
I huff out a laugh, leaning closer. “You can try.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Jac’s words are a lot clearer now. My heart pounds. A few more minutes.
“All it takes is one little press of a button, and all your secrets are out in the world.” She smiles.
“So, what do you want?” I grit through my teeth slowly.
She lowers her voice. “Oh, I already have everything of yours on standby. I want you to suffer.” She straightens, clapping her hands, making Penelope flinch. “So! You have two options… Or three… It depends how you look at it. One, you let us torture you to death, and your girlfriend walks free—”
Is this bitch serious?
“Where is she?”
She narrows her eyes at me, picking up a knife from the table.
“I’m not finished. Two… Actually, that is your only option.
I don’t know what Luke wants with that girl exactly, but I don’t care.
Your dirty business will get aired either way, and everything you own will belong to me.
Luke was merely a temporary partner to get you distracted.
” She laughs like it’s delightful. “So, what will it be, son?”
Son?
A sickening realisation settles over me. Now it makes sense.
“Mum?” My voice comes out almost childlike.
She cackles. “Hardly.”
I can see it now. The brown hair. The facial features.
Bile rises up in my throat as years of hurt and pain surface.
My veins ice up.
The cause of all my pain is standing right in front of me, ready to ruin my fucking life all over again.
But it’s not sadness that I feel.
It’s pure, untamed anger.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” I spit.
She’s been dead to me for a long time.
Jenny completely ignores my statement, signalling for Penelope to come forward.
She scrambles to some papers on the torture table and slams the laptop shut with a contract already laid out on top. “All you have to do is sign over all your assets, and you will go free. I can’t say the same about Camila,” Penelope says, taking a brief look at Jac before retreating again.
“I should’ve fucking known it was you selling us out.” I laugh and look up to the high heavens to find strength in staying put in this fucking seat. “And what happens to Jac?”
Jenny looks over to Jac, her face softening just a smidge. My brows scrunch together.
“My dear boy,” she sighs.
What the fuck is she talking about?
My legs start to bob with impatience and fear, that CCTV of Camila flashing in my mind again.
Jenny walks over to Jac, cradling his face in both hands, smoothing her thumb over his cheek. “You weren’t made for this life, my dear. I should've had you, not him.” She turns her face towards me at the last word, scrunching her face up.
Something like dread coils in my stomach as I watch her interaction with him.
Jac grumbles, yanking his face lazily away from her.
“Guys,” she says, moving away from him.
A ricocheting sound of guns cocking echoes throughout the room, all pointed at me.
“Put those guns away or—”
“Or what? Good luck getting out of those restraints, son.”
“Do not call me that. I’m not your son. You ruined my fucking life, you bitch.”
She pulls her own gun out and points it at me—I grin.
“Do it. Do the one thing you’ve been wanting to do my entire life.” I taunt.
It’s a challenge. She won’t do it.
“You. You ruined my life. With your shitty fucking brain.
Do you realise how much work you were? I tried.
I tried to love you. But you were so hard to love.
You ruined mine and Eric's relationship.
The only man that ever loved me. He was so absorbed by you, that he forgot about me.
You were the centre of his world. You and that stupid fucking colour.
I always knew there was something wrong with you.
Those diagnoses were never accurate. They were just an excuse for your fucked-up head.
Now look at you." She scowls at me. "Tell me, has that girlfriend of yours told you she loves you yet?”
“Do you realise how insane you sound?” I spit.
Those words shouldn’t hurt. But they do.
Not because they’re coming out of her mouth.
The one woman that was supposed to love and support me.
That doesn’t matter. But… About Camila… She’s right.
Camila could never love me. She could never accept the version of love I’m trying to give her.
A version of love that she doesn’t deserve, and I know that.
And that hurts more than anything. Jenny is right; she hasn’t told me she loves me…
but I can feel it. Can’t I? Or maybe I don’t know what love is. Maybe it’s delusion.
“Shut… your…. fucking… whore mouth,” Jac croaks from behind us.
“There’s that brother of yours,” she laughs bitterly, eyes fixed on Jac. “He could’ve had everything if I’d only chosen to give you up to my sister and not him. I always preferred him.”
My heart plummets.
All those times Jac visited—she knew. This was why she always treated Jac the same way I longed to be treated.
“You fucking bitch,” Jac spits, his voice clear now, already lunging out of his chair.
She points the gun towards him.
“No!” I roar, slamming myself into her, the chair causing me to topple onto her. I feel a crack in her leg as we fall to the ground.
Gunshots ring out around us, and a searing pain stabs my ribs.