20. Hayden
20
HAYDEN
“ S it the fuck down. You took a beating to the head,” I snarl under my breath as Silas paces back and forth across the living room, looking as much like a caged animal as I feel. It’s like there’s something physically clawing at my ribcage to break free.
“I’m fine,” he snarls back, and shoves his hands through his hair. “How can this be happening? What cosmic entity did I piss off for this to be my life?”
“I can think of at least four,” Declan says, and drops down onto the couch beside me. We both look at him expectantly. He is Mr. Man With A Plan, after all. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” he mutters, and spreads his arms across the back of the sofa.
“Clearly we have underestimated the Irish.” My voice is low and full of emotion. “And we have underestimated the levels of betrayal within Em’s ranks. They’re working together, but how closely?”
Silas stops in front of the wall and for a moment I think he’s going to punch a hole through it, but then he shoves his hands into the front pouch of his MIT hoodie. “Do you think they did this to her?”
“I don’t know.” Declan’s voice is unsure as he rubs his fingers across his lips, deep in thought. “I wouldn’t think Hector would do this to her, unless he’s been playing her the whole time.”
“I always got the impression that Em was grooming her for something bigger. Maybe they’re putting that plan into action and giving her an ultimatum,” I muse, and rake my fingers through my hair, tugging on the roots sharply. The bite of pain prevents me from slipping; keeping my mind clear and focused.
“Perhaps,” Declan agrees and stands, stretching his back until it pops twice. “We’re going to find her.” He looks at his brother pointedly. “Track her phone.”
I feel a tiny bit of guilt that they know I’ve put trackers on her, but only a little. Declan’s eyes slide to me. “Don’t think I don’t know that you watch her. Follow her every move. Stalk her in the darkness.”
I stand and take a step toward him until our chests are almost touching, a defensive comment on the tip of my tongue, but he continues in a low voice. “You’re not the only one who likes to watch.” He turns and stalks down the hallway toward our armory closet.
Silas moves until he’s standing where his brother was just a moment before. I take in his serious expression and note the flecks of dried blood still crusted around his nostrils. “I’m not sure which I find more disturbing. The fact that my brother has some massive kinks that he’s yet to unpack, or that you have been stalking us all.” A grin splits his face and he presses his forehead to mine.
“Coming from the guy who hacks into our systems and keeps tabs on our search histories?” I respond lightly, and gently nudge him toward his computer lair. “Go work your magic.”
Twenty minutes later, Declan and I are strapped with ammo, guns, knives, and explosives. We’re either getting her back or blowing the place sky high. There’s no in-between. We stand behind Silas as he types away on his computer, the clacking of the keys the only sound in the room.
“She’s here.” Silas points to a small red dot blinking on the screen. He clicks a few buttons and a geographic map pulls up, revealing the warehouse at the docks she was captured at the last time. “Not very original,” he quips, and shakes his head.
“Maybe they thought we wouldn’t think to check there since they’ve used it before,” Declan responds, his voice distant, like he’s caught in a memory.
I snap my fingers to pull him back and he blinks at me. “Ready?”
He nods once and then disappears down the hall.
“I’m coming too,” Silas says, and before I can protest, he pulls a gun out of the bottom drawer and cocks it.
The bullet sliding into the chamber echoes through my mind as I stare down at him. I know I can’t keep him here because he wants retribution. “Fine. Let’s go.”
We climb into Declan’s Impala and the engine roars to life, the air practically vibrating with the horsepower. Silas pulls out his phone and brings up the tracker. “It doesn’t look like they’re moving her. We can be there in fifteen if you push it.”
“Let’s go to war, boys,” Declan says, and pulls out of the garage. The tires squeal as soon as they touch the blacktop as he guns the engine and takes off in the direction of the docks.
We make it to the warehouse parking lot in eleven minutes thanks to Declan running two red lights and going about fifty miles over the posted speed limit. I climb out and readjust the kevlar vest, pulling it down away from my chin. “I fucking hate this piece of shit,” I mutter, and jerk the material around.
“Better than being riddled with holes,” Declan chuckles, and claps me on the back.
I bite my tongue to stop myself from spitting a retort. Instead, I turn and size up the building. Its front entrance is illuminated by the street lamps glowing in the low evening light. “There’s not a lot of security detail out tonight.”
“Let’s go. The dot is on the far side. To the left,” Silas instructs, and pulls his own vest over his head.
We stalk forward in silence, our guns up and fingers on the trigger. I’m ready to send as many souls to the afterlife as it takes to get my angel back. Silas pockets his phone and points to the corridor on the left. I move first, checking to make sure it’s clear before motioning for them to follow.
The building is silent, eerily so. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my skin crawls with unease as I push against the door. The knob stops mid turn. “It’s locked,” I whisper, and take a step back. I look over my shoulder to confirm that they are both ready. Once this door is open there’s going to be a storm of bullets flying from both directions.
They both raise their guns, their eyes flashing with murderous intent. I turn back to the door and kick hard. The sole of my boot hits the wood right beside the lock and it splinters with a loud crack. I repeat the motion a second time and send the whole door tumbling inward, ripping it clean off its hinges. I drop to my knees in preparation for an onslaught of bullets, but nothing happens.
The silence stretches on for so long that I’m afraid I actually died from a boobytrap and this is now my Hell. Declan clicks on a flashlight and creeps into the room. Silas and I follow closely behind. My eyes search through the darkness, but I can’t make anything out that’s not in the direct beam of the light. “Angel?” I call softly, but there’s no response.
“There,” Silas whispers, and points to a metal door with a small window on the far wall. He darts to the door and yanks on the handle. It opens with a loud screech. I wince and look over my shoulder, expecting to see someone barreling down the hallway, but the coast is still clear. “Emelia?” his voice is soft as he disappears into the darkness.
Declan and I follow with the light. The room is larger than I thought it would be. There’s a rectangular table in the center with two chairs on either side. A metal ring is protruding from the tabletop, like someone was chained to the table at some point. “This is an interrogation room,” I say as my eyes drift over the counter situated on the back wall. Metal instruments reflect the light as Declan shines it around the dark room.
My stomach churns and my skin grows hot with rage. If they so much as damaged a single hair on her head I will lose what is left of my mind. I holster my gun and my fists clench and unclench at my sides. I can feel myself slipping as I turn in a slow circle, looking for something that will let me know that she’s been here.
Silas coughs and wrinkles his nose. “Do you smell that?”
I inhale sharply but the only thing I can smell is something faint and acidic, probably whatever they use to clean the room once they’re finished with their victims. The door slams behind me, echoing through the darkness.
Declan surges forward and pushes on the handle, but it won’t budge. The light comes up and reveals a face behind the glass. “You piece of shit,” Declan roars, and slams his palm against the metal.
My chest tightens and my eyes burn as I stare into Hector’s dark eyes. I snarl and take a step forward, but stumble over my feet. He stares into the room impassively and I want nothing more than to punch him right in his attractive face. “Damn you,” I hiss, but my words are slurred.
Silas drops to his knees beside me, grabbing at his throat. His eyes are bulging and his face is turning red. “Hayden,” he chokes out, and reaches for me with his other hand. His lips take on a blue tint as he collapses, his fingertips brushing mine.
Declan slides down the door and lets out a rattling cough as he slumps over. I try to take another step toward the traitor, but my legs give out. It feels as though someone has pulled every ounce of oxygen from my lunges. Black spots dance across my vision as I fall to my hands and knees, gasping and choking.
The door creaks open and I see a pair of boots stop in front of me, but I’m too weak to raise my head. Hector crouches down. “Oxygen displacement. It takes some calculation to pump the CO2 directly into a room, but it’s very effective for incapacitation.”
My entire body feels like it’s burning from the inside out. I lurch forward and my cheek presses against the cool concrete floor. The last thing I see before my consciousness slips away is Silas and Declan being dragged from the room.
My tongue feels like sandpaper as I move it across the roof of my mouth, and my head is pounding. I can hear the blood rushing past my eardrums. My eyelids feel like they’ve been glued together. A cough to my right pulls at my mind. I feel awareness creeping back into my cells as they take in fresh oxygen. Fuck this, I want to add drowning and suffocation while conscious to my list of ‘Ways I Fear Dying’ because that was fucking terrible.
I pry my eyes open and the first thing I see is ropes twisting around my chest and abdomen. I pull at my legs and arms, only to find they are also tied to the chair I’m sitting in. I look over and find both Kennedys also tied to chairs beside me. Silas coughs again and rolls his head as he regains consciousness.
Declan cuts his eyes to me, checking to make sure I’m awake, and then looks back at the man leaning against the desk in front of us. “I’m disappointed in you, Em,” Declan says, his voice hoarse from lack of oxygen.
My eyes slide from Tobias to Hector, who is leaning against the wall behind the desk with his arms folded across his chest. His eyes flash with dark humor as he watches us closely. If my mouth wasn’t drier than the Sahara, I would spit at him.
Tobias dips his head in acknowledgement and slides his hands into the pockets of his navy suit. “I find you might be rather disappointed with this entire situation.”
The door behind us opens and heels click across the floor. Leave it to the Irish to wear designer shoes so everyone knows he’s coming. I want to turn my head, but my muscles are too weak. I’m barely able to lift my head. My eyes widen when Emelia walks around the desk and stands behind the desk chair, draping her arms across the top.
I inhale sharply as I take her in, my eyes sliding over her entire body, checking for signs of bruising or any damage to her beautiful skin. She stares at us, her green eyes glittering with danger. My heart expands in my chest and my lungs feel like they can’t inflate properly. I don’t understand what’s going on.
I look over at Declan and Silas, who are both equally confused. “What’s going on here, Em?” Declan finally manages to get out. I watch his chest as he inhales and exhales rapidly, his body still trying to compensate for our recent hypoxic venture.
Hector looks down at Emelia, who sighs loudly. Tobias chuckles and moves to the other side of the desk, pulling the chair out from under Emelia’s arms. I think he’s about to sit, but then he turns the chair and holds it out for Emelia.
Her delicate frame drops into the cushion. Both men flank her as they all stare at us, and I feel like the bottom has just been kicked out of the roller coaster we’re strapped in. My eyes move from one face to another, trying to process what is happening. I look over and Silas is regarding her incredulously while Declan has a dark look in his eyes. His mouth is set in a hard line, and his fists are clenched against the arms of the chair he’s restrained in.
I look back over at the trio behind the desk and find Hector grinning at me, his eyes once again sparkling with humor. My mind is still trying to settle on the fact that Emelia apparently kidnapped herself, and I can’t decide if I’m in awe of the genius move or just incredibly pissed off.
Emelia leans forward, resting her elbows on the desk, and steeples her fingers together in front of her face. A move I’ve seen Tobias do on several occasions and it makes me wonder who got it from who. A slow smile spreads across her face as she tilts her chin up defiantly as she regards the three of us, bound and helpless before her. Then her voice echoes through the room and I’m taken back to that very first night we found her in the alley, covered in blood and darkness.
“Hello, boys.”