Chapter 12
Ava
Chaos reigned around me as agents dashed for their gear, then out the door towards the vans parked underneath the hotel in the sub-level parking. Owen and Marshall were barking orders that I couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in my ears.
I stood frozen in place, not knowing how to feel, my fist tightly clutched around Aegis and the wooden badger that I always carried in my pocket for some reason I didn’t want to think about.
Syntax had spotted Grayson at the museum again. Alone this time. And everyone was rushing to apprehend him. So I stood frozen, unable to move.
Someone grabbed me by my arm and pulled me towards the doors. It was Liam. He was talking fast, but I understood nothing, his voice muffled.
“What?” I asked in a daze, trying hard to concentrate on his moving mouth.
“Ava, focus!” We came to a halt at the back of a van.
He turned me to look at him. He was uncharacteristically serious, a deep furrow between his brows.
“I said to stay in the bulletproof van, no matter what.” He pulled a bulletproof vest over my head, strapping it tight.
“You stay with Syntax. You don’t get out, unless it’s with me. Understood?”
I tried to nod as he strapped a helmet on my head. “Is the helmet really necessary?” I found my voice again. The van was already bulletproof. And I wasn’t allowed to leave it, apparently.
“I don’t know which one will kill me first if something happens to you,” Liam mumbled to himself.
Would Grayson really come after me?
Liam pulled the door open behind me. “You ready?”
I stared at him for a second, feeling my heart batter in my throat. “It wouldn’t be fun if it isn’t a little dangerous, right?”
He smirked at me, leaned closer and winked conspiratorially. “Exactly.”
The four vans came to a screeching halt before the museum and agents pushed out the doors.
“I lost visual. Last seen in the passage on the first floor,” Syntax said from beside me to the agents over the comms. She furiously flipped through the museum’s cameras, trying to re-establish her visual on Grayson.
The agents moved fast and precise, their actions perfectly coordinated. They secured each exit, before breaking off and moving into the building. People scattered out of their way, yelps of surprise raising over the comms.
I threw the helmet off my head and pulled at the vest. I couldn’t breathe.
“Close the doors! No one comes in and out of this building till our perp is in custody,” Owen blared over the comms.
Please. Please don’t let him get hurt.
Who I was even praying for, I didn’t know. I kept my eyes on Owen’s body cam, my insides in a sharp knot. Gods, I hated this!
“Found him!” Syntax shouted from beside me. “First floor. Room E7.”
“Almost there,” Owen whispered, out of breath.
“Right behind you,” Emerie said, her voice faintly echoing off Owen’s comms.
He peered around the corner into an empty corridor and moved forward. Halfway through the corridor, he stopped abruptly with an oomph, then I heard a sound that scared me more than anything.
Grayson’s laugh.
It came loud and clear over Owen’s comms. Gods, no!
“Let him go, Varon!” Emerie yelled, making me jump from my seat.
No!
Syntax pulled up Emerie’s bodycam and my heart stopped. Grayson had Owen in a chokehold, a gun to his head. Owen’s hands were raised, his gun on the floor.
“All available agents to southern passage on first floor. Perp has taken an agent hostage. I repeat, Agent Becket is in danger,” Syntax blared over the comms.
“You’re a lot shorter than I thought you’d be, Agent Becket,” I heard Grayson’s playful voice over the comms.
Burning heat rushed through my body, my lungs gasping for air.
“And you a lot skinnier,” Owen replied carefully.
Grayson chuckled. “Do you feel like dying today, Becket? ‘Cause I would love to hear the sound of a bullet rip through your brain.” He lowered his head to Owen’s microphone. “Bet that would shut you right up, wouldn’t it, little bird?”
My legs buckled. What have I done? He was going to kill Owen, because I couldn’t just move on with my life. I had to get involved with the FBI and put everyone life at risk.
Owen gave a strangled laugh. “You don’t really know her at all, do you? Kill me, and you’ll never get to sleep with both eyes closed again. You know? Hell hath no fury, and all that…”
Grayson’s smirk widened, then he whispered something in Owen’s ear that made Owen’s face fall.
Syntax pulled up another bodycam. Liam’s, as he came skidding around the corner. But instead of keeping his weapon raised on Grayson, he put it away, putting his empty hands out in front of him.
“Varon. Don’t kill him. Please.” Liam’s voice was calm, but there was an underlying desperation that choked the last air out of me. This was no nightmare. This was real. Grayson had a gun to Owen’s head.
I spun around and pushed against the van doors.
I couldn’t just stand there anymore. I flung myself out the door and raced with all my might to the nearest entrance.
I took two stairs at a time, my legs screaming, but I didn’t dare slow my pace.
The corridors seemed endless, and my heart sank with each second ticking off that I didn’t reach Owen.
A gunshot went off in the distance, and I screamed in agony.
Six more shots went off, the sound tearing holes through my heart.
Please! Please! I begged the gods, tears blurring my vision as I raced through the panicked tourists. I rounded two more corners, the silence screaming in my head. No more shots. No one was shooting anymore. Why?
Finally, I reached the swarm of agents, pushing them out of the way, not knowing what I would find.
Owen’s voice bouldered over the commotion, “Move out! Find him!”
My knees buckled in relief at hearing his voice.
I found his face in the sea of people, looking angry as hell.
His eyes locked onto mine and I launched myself at him.
A sob escaped me as I threw my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly to me.
“You’re alive. You’re okay,” I sobbed, not caring how crazy I looked.
“I’m shot, and you’re pressing right into it,” Owen groaned.
I pushed back, seeing the red coating his white shirt on his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” he added quickly.
“Where is he? Where’s Grayson?” The panic twisting painfully around my insides still didn’t dissipate.
“He got away,” Liam said from beside Owen.
“He wasn’t injured,” Owen added quietly, studying my face as relief finally made my body go limp. He tried to look away, but I caught the disappointment on his face. Disappointment in me.
“You need to get to a hospital,” I said firmly.
“I’ll go when Varon is in cuffs. And you are in danger here. Taylor, get her back to the van.” Owen took a step back from me, his tone impersonal and angry.
“I agree with Ava. You should—” Liam started.
“Now!” Owen cut him off.
Liam’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Owen…” I tried, but he turned and jogged off, barking commands over the comms as he went.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s okay. Let me just get you to the van first.”
I sat in the van, watching as the agents swept every nook and cranny of the museum and the surrounding buildings for the third time. No trace of Grayson.
I sighed. “I’m getting some air,” I informed Syntax.
“Weren’t you told to stay put?” she questioned, not looking away from her screens.
“He’s obviously not here anymore. I’ll live,” I answered flatly, pushing through the doors.
The night air was crisp, and the street was quiet. All tourists and non-essential personnel were gone. I let my feet lead me, my mind too numb to care where I was going.
Owen was stressing me out, still refusing to go to a hospital, but allowed one of Marshall’s men, a medic, to bandage him up. He was pissed as hell that Grayson had managed to slip away again.
I found myself in the museum’s courtyard. A tented structure filled the large space. It was an art installation by students from a nearby university.
At the entrance of the tent was a hand-painted sign—Hall of Illusions.
I wandered inside, hoping whatever was in there, would keep my mind occupied. Walking straight past the reception area, I found myself in a round tunnel.
I had to stop for a second to find my balance. The tunnel spun around me at dizzying speeds. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in. The tunnel wasn’t really spinning. The ground was completely still.
I squinted my eyes open again, forcing my brain to recognise it as a lie. Lights, tumbling round and round, created the illusion.
I moved slowly, already regretting coming in here. My nerves were completely shot, and this wasn’t helping. But my feet carried me forward, towards the light. I climbed out of the tunnel and careened my neck in awe. The students didn’t mess around.
The room was staged with giant furniture, looking completely real, making me feel like a little Alice in Wonderland.
I stepped around a giant coke can, sitting next to the enormous couch.
It would be a struggle to climb on top of it.
I walked underneath the glass coffee table, seeing the underside of one of my favourite books through the glass, as well as a coffee cup, and coffee stains.
That had me smiling. Such attention to detail.
It must have taken them all year to create these props.
I moved on to the next room that had me feeling slightly nauseous. The room was tilted but looked completely level. I walked through it at an angle, fighting with my brain to recognise the play on lines that created the illusion of a normal room. I was glad to be out of there.