16. CHAPTER 16
We left the stolen car in an alley, and he glamoured us a car rental. We drove continuously, switching off, and it still took us a little over a day to get from Chicago to Phoenix. Tilly can drive for longer stretches than me, though half the time I faked drowsiness just to get a break from him. I swear, he’s got like ADHD, or insomnia or something. The guy won’t stop talking, fidgeting, moving. For the first stretch, I tried talking to him to learn more, but he just talks gibberish. Answering questions with more questions, talking about nonsense, or randomly changing the subject. He’s exhausting. I switched to faking asleep just so he’d shut up for a bit.
I’m leaning up against the car at a busy truck stop, stretching my legs and waiting for Tilly to return while repeatedly redialing Elena’s phone. He disappeared into the crowd right when we stopped. I went inside, but there isn’t much for me to nourish myself with. It’s all super processed foods that’ll make me feel fucking sick, no raw meat, and my nerves are too frazzled to attempt it from a vein. No, I’ll hold out.
I shouldn’t need to, though. I fed from Wyatt less than two days ago. But my skin’s already itchy and my gums are aching. Why am I feeling these symptoms already?
Could it still be the bloodlust?
Or maybe something really is wrong with me? Maybe some side effect from their stupid tests?
I scratch and pick at my arms while trying Elena’s cell again.
“A watched pot never boils.” Tilly approaches, tossing me a red-tinted bottle. “Put the phone away.”
I don’t even want to think about how he filled this in a public place. My glamouring is nowhere near his level. The automated voicemail cuts in, and I shake my head, ending the call. “Thanks.” Unscrewing the cap, I down the contents in a few gulps, and the itchiness subsides a little.
He climbs in and starts the car, the music blasting, and I drop into the passenger seat. He turns the music lower while leaving the parking lot, heading towards a suburb. “Which way?”
I point up ahead. “Take a left at the stop sign. Her house is the blue one on the right at the end of the street.” My stomach churns. I don’t have high hopes of her being here, but I couldn’t not check either.
He pulls into the empty driveway and shuts the car off, quickly exiting and shaking out his legs. How the hell does he fit his gigantic body into such a tiny rental?
It’s six am. She won’t be at work until nine, so I have a small sliver of hope that something’s just wrong with her phone, and she’s home. We make our way to her front door and I’m chewing my fingernails so much that I’m biting into my flesh. I take a deep breath and knock loudly, then ring her bell a few times.
No answer. No movement within. Tilly walks to the side of her house, lifting the lid to her mailbox then turns to me with a handful of mail.
The air gushes from my chest. “Oh. No.”
“Is there a side or back door?” He tucks the pile of mail to his side and walks back to me.
“Yeah, a back door.” I head for the backyard.
He silently follows, scanning the perimeter while we go. The side fence whines on old hinges. I step through, making my way to the back door, then check under the doormat for the spare key. My shoulders slump when it’s bare. Tilly nudges me to the side and leans down on the knob. He twists, and it groans and cracks, the door handle popping off in his hand. He chucks it into the lawn and pushes the door wide open.
I rush into her kitchen, calling out her name so loudly my throat hurts. “Elena! Elena!” But there’s no answer, and my heart sinks lower.
Stopping by the calendar next to the fridge, I blink back the blurry wetness from my eyes. “Today’s Friday, right?”
He tosses the pile of mail onto her counter. “Yes. I believe so.”
“She hasn’t marked things off since Monday.”
Tilly steps up next to me, examining the whiteboard calendar, covered in tasks and to-do lists. Each day is marked off with a pretty flower and tasks checked…until three days ago.
“Hmm, that mostly confirms it. Do a sweep of upstairs, and I’ll check the other rooms down here for any more clues.”
“You think they already have her?” My voice trembles more and more with each word.
“Don’t you?”
My head and shoulders slouch. “Yeah. I do.” I head toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
His voice faintly reaches me over the thud of my shoes on the stairs. “Grab her a change of clothes in case she needs them like you did.” There’s some distant banging from him rummaging through her things.
I snatch a tote bag and start tossing in her toiletries, some leggings, underwear, and a t-shirt. Nothing seems out of place or like there was any kind of scuffle. No clues I can notice, but what kind of clues do I even look for?
I head down the stairs to Tilly, who’s looking out the front window in the living room. “Anything?”
“No one’s been here. There aren’t any trackers or recorders. We should be safe to stay here for a few hours. We can head to the facility once it’s dark.”
“Shouldn’t we go now?”
He turns towards me. My eyebrows furrow at the sight of Elena’s pink satin scrunchy around his wrist. His hair is getting longer again. It’s just past his ears now. How is that possible when he shaved it so recently?
He dramatically flops down on the couch. “It will be less conspicuous out of daylight. The element of surprise is our primary advantage.”
“You do this kind of thing a lot?”
“What’s a lot?” His eyebrows wiggle playfully at me.
I shake my head in defeat and sit in the recliner opposite him, kicking my feet up onto the coffee table. “My point is, you don’t seem flustered, but like this is all just routine for you.”
“No, definitely not routine.” He snatches a Cosmo magazine off the table and reads the cover.
Still not an answer. I rub my temples. “So, what’s your plan, exactly?”
“Once it’s dark, we will go to the facility and sneak in. And ideally, find your friend and father.” I tense at the mention of Patrick. He glances up from the unopened magazine. “Then get out— What is it?”
“I… Ah… Can we just focus on Elena?” I don’t even want to see Patrick, and if they have him locked up, they can keep him that way.
“So, leave your father there?”
I nod.
“Interesting. I thought you were just estranged, but now I’m sensing your fear.”
I gulp. “He’s tortured me. I’ve been on the run from him for years. Every time he finds me, I leave for a new city and new name.”
“Why is he obsessed with finding and torturing you?” He opens the magazine and flips leisurely through pages.
“My mother passed away giving birth to me, and he blames me and wants to make me pay for it.”
“Well, that’s utterly insane. But…losing a mate makes one utterly insane. So, we’ll only retrieve your friend. Preferably unnoticed, though I suspect it will be more challenging than that.”
My stomach drops. “And if it’s more challenging?”
“Then we have more fun.” He sits up, tossing the magazine back to the table with a giant, fang-y grin. “It’ll be exciting.”
My mouth opens, ready to push and question him further, but the words dry up unspoken, and my mouth shuts with a snap.
Please. Oh please, don’t let this be a mistake.
Shifting in the chair, I curl in on myself while hesitantly nodding. I bite the inside of my cheek. She’s my only friend, so I have to do whatever I can to save her. But following a slightly unhinged giant, Vanamisch… Is this really the best option?
I have no other connections and can’t find the facility without him. So, yeah, it kind of is the best option. Fuck.
My body relaxes marginally with a long exhale. “When will we leave?”
“Let’s chill and rest for a bit, and I need to freshen up.” My brows furrow. I watched him shave less than forty-eight hours ago, and he’s already sporting a decent beard on his face. “We’ll leave at six to scout out the location right as dusk turns to night.”
“Why do your hair and nails grow so fast?”
He tsks at me. “That’s your response to my plan?” He shakes his head, standing and heading down the hall.
After another endless night of nightmares and then failing at any kind of distraction, I headed into work. I’m not scheduled back for another week, but with nothing better to do, I figured I could check in on things around my department.
Everyone was nice and compassionate when I walked in, but within an hour, people are avoiding me. The night shift’s about to end, so they’re probably just busy with last-minute stuff, and I’m twisting it all with my sourness.
I head into the breakroom for more coffee to make up for my lack of quality sleep. It says something when I slept better locked in a glass cage than in my own bed.
I’m so messed up. I should go to therapy about Hope, but… yeah, that’s a hard pass. I’d rather just keep myself so busy that I’m too physically and mentally exhausted to remember my failures that night. I nod a greeting at the three people chatting near the fridge as I enter, and their conversation stops. They nod in return but immediately head for the door.
What the heck? Do I stink or something?
I pour a large black coffee.
Don’t stress about it and don’t think of Hope. Just sip your coffee and try to relax.
I roll my shoulders while inhaling the steam from the cup. When I close my eyes, some of the tension finally leaves my neck, but then I shift and lean against the counter. My weight presses the flip phone in my pocket into my hip…and my tension rises tenfold.
Teagan. When will I hear from her? Will I ever hear from her? I pull the phone out to triple check that I’ve set the volume to the highest level. Just in case.
“Hey! Dr. Keane. Are you back?” Mateo’s boisterous voice making me flinch in surprise but brings a smile to my face. I slip the phone back in my pocket.
“Hi, Mateo. No, not officially until later next week. But you know I can’t keep away from you lot.”
“You doing okay?”
“Eh.” I would tell most people, oh sure, I’m doing fine given everything…but I can’t lie to Mateo. He knows me too well.
“Want to talk about it? My shift just ended. We can go for a walk.”
“Yeah, that’d be—uhhh.” I grunt, my stomach cramping so forcefully I set the Styrofoam cup on the counter before it spills everywhere. A painful spasm shoots up my core, and I hunch forward, hugging my stomach, breathing through clenched teeth.
“Woah. Careful. Here, sit down for a sec.” Mateo pulls a metal chair up next to me.
I take in gulping breaths and almost refuse, but another shooting pain slices up my chest, and I drop into the seat in agony.
“Maybe we should get you checked out.” Mateo hovers in front of my face, checking my pupils.
The pain’s already subsiding. I shake my head.
“No. It’s getting better already. It’s probably just heartburn. I haven’t eaten, just consumed a crap-ton of this cheap coffee.”
“Hmm. Yeah, maybe that’s it. You should probably head home and rest, though. You’ve been through a lot recently.”
He doesn’t know the half of it. Though he can probably tell by looking at me that it’s something more. Thankfully, he doesn’t question it.
I straighten, finally able to take in a full, deep breath. “Yeah. You’re probably right. I just wanted to check in on things and feel useful.”
“Honestly, you’re driving everyone crazy. You’re buzzing around like a chicken with its head cut off, making everyone anxious. It’s why I came looking for you.”
“Ha. Wonderful. So, not helpful?”
He pats my shoulder. “Not really. We miss you around here, but we’re managing. Go home, get your head cleared, and come back refreshed.”
“Ha. I don’t know if I’m relieved or bummed.” I stretch side to side in the seat as the last of the burning pain subsides.
“Be relieved. You don’t take near enough time off from this hellhole. And if you want to grab a drink or something, give me a call.”
I push myself up and head toward the door. “Thanks, Mateo.”
“Anytime, Dr. Keane.”
Mateo’s the closest thing to a friend that I have, and I can count on one hand the amount of times we’ve seen each other outside of the hospital. For a minute there, I thought that maybe a friendship was developing between Tilly and me, but then they sent me away. I don’t fit in their world. I know this. But it still hurts. Maybe I do need to make more of an effort to hang out with Mateo.
I barely make it outside the sliding ER doors when the cramps in my stomach come back with a vengeance. Fumbling for my keys, I jog to my car while hugging my midsection.
Something isn’t right. Lancing pain shoots up into my chest, and I drop into the seat, panting. Sweat coats my forehead.
Acid burns up my esophagus, and my mouth fills with the taste of tart, dark cherries. Teagan.
They didn’t want me to be part of this, but something about her keeps nagging at my senses. And now I’m getting physical reactions. That same nagging part of my gut that wouldn’t let me stop looking for her after the bus accident. That part that knew she would need my help. But this feels amplified and so much worse.
What’s happening? Does she need help?
This nagging urge isn’t subsiding. I need to see her with my own eyes and know she’s safe. I grip the steering wheel as my stomach twists with another round of spasms.
I’m going to make sure she’s alright.
Just the thought eases some of my discomfort. I turn the key and pull out onto the road. As I take the next on ramp to the highway, the pain melts further away. Guess I’m heading to Phoenix.
We arrive in an industrial area a little before seven and I should be concentrating on Elena, but my thoughts keep ping-ponging between her and Wyatt.
Wyatt’s fine. I’ve told myself this hundreds of times already. But he keeps popping back into my mind.
Elena. She needs my focus. I can’t get captured again or we’re all fucked.
Tilly crosses his arms over his chest with narrowed eyes. “Take a breath. You’re stressing me out.”
I look away from him and take two purposefully slow, deep breaths.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll take us in that door.” He points to a two-story metal warehouse with boarded-up windows.
“And what if they hear or see us enter?” The tips of my fingers are getting raw from my anxious nibbling.
He takes his shades off, revealing glowing red eyes and a manic grin. “Then I get to have fun.” He grabs my hand and pulls me with him. “Come on, let’s go.”