Thirty-Six Ella
THIRTY-SIX
Ella
I’m bouncing out of unconsciousness along with the car bumping over uneven roads.
The trunk rattles around me, the carpet rough under my cheek, the air stale and hot.
It smells faintly of leather polish mixed with gasoline, with a trace of citrus air freshener trying and failing to cover it.
Every jolt slams my head against metal, pain sparking at my temple.
My ankle throbs, sharp and angry, though I don’t remember twisting it. Panic scrapes through my chest.
Who threw me in this trunk?
I try to think through the options. I’m not even sure who the guy who hit us was.
Just how well do I know Bronco? Was he there?
I don’t know what happened. I really don’t.
My thoughts keep sliding, foggy and uneven, as the car rocks me hard against the side.
Two huge sneezes take me, and my head throbs.
My nose hurts. It feels more like an allergy attack than a cold, and I don’t have any medicine.
Justice. His face swims across my mind. I need him. Now.
Finally, what seems like hours later, we come to a stop. I roll forward into the front of the trunk and crack my elbow. Pain jerks up my arm.
The trunk opens and bright light blinds me. A hood shoves down over my head, coarse fabric scratching my face. “Hey!” I yell, reaching out and scratching at air. My entire world spins, black and suffocating, as hard arms grab me and lift me against a solid chest.
His smell isn’t one I know. Not like Justice.
It could be any of the men I was in the elevator with.
My body presses against muscle, the beat of his heart steady through cloth.
His footsteps pound, echoing on hollow pavement.
My eyes water. Are we in a parking garage?
It smells like damp concrete, motor oil, and old exhaust.
A ding echoes. I sneeze into the hood. Gross. We step into an elevator. I hear the doors close. I thrash, twisting, but he’s too strong.
“Justice is going to kill you for this.” My voice is muffled through the hood.
He doesn’t answer.
“I’m going to kill you for this.” The words burst out, and raw fury ripples through me along with fear. Terror, really. I reach up, but one beefy hand locks around my wrist, pinning me in place. I slam my shoulder against his chest. He doesn’t even grunt. Jerk.
The elevator lurches. We’re descending. I yelp, sharp, because I had expected to rise. No. We’re going down. Crap. So that’s where they bury the bodies.
“Who are you?” I demand. I blink rapidly, though there’s nothing to see. My head pounds, my ears ring. Every breath tastes of fabric and oil. The doors part, and cool air rushes around us, lifting the edges of the hood.
I sneeze again. Darn it.
He walks across a hard surface. The hum of machines thickens, low and steady. I’m dropped into a chair, metal biting through the seat of my dress, and the hood is yanked off.
Corinda stands in the middle of the TimeGem server chamber, hands hovering over a diamond that glows faintly with a tinge of yellow. She steps back. Pale. Her eyes shimmer a faint yellow and her fingers tremble hard. The place has been cleaned, but damage still shows on the walls and floor.
“Corinda?” I snap, mouth dry, tongue thick as cotton.
My stepsister’s hair is a tangled mess around her shoulders, but her green sweater and jeans look neat, as if she’d dressed down for a casual day instead of a kidnapping.
Sure, we don’t like each other, but how could she do this?
Does she think I killed her mom? Does she even know that Sylveria is dead?
I turn … and see Wynd. My breath catches. Not Wynd. Not Justice’s friend and cousin. Confusion blankets me before reality slaps me hard. “Bastard,” I hiss. Then I turn my head and sneeze again.
Wynd shifts left, his gaze locked on Corinda. His presence fills the room, the weight of it pressing the air thinner. His voice cuts through the hum, low and certain. “Did you get it charged?”
Not in a million years would I have guessed it was him. My breath snags, and for a second the ache in my temple dulls under the shock. Wynd. Standing here like he belongs. My chest tightens, panic breaking through the haze, and I start to stand.
His gaze snaps to me. “If you move, I swear to God, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.” He shifts more to the left, body angled toward Corinda, as if I’m already handled. “Answer me, Corinda. Is that diamond charged or not?” His voice is colder than I’ve ever heard.
Corinda looks down at the diamond, its glow wrong and sickly, already streaked with yellow, though it should be fresh. Her hands tremble so violently she can barely keep them open.
I shake my head, heat rising in my throat. “How long have you been trying?”
Her eyes flick to me, glassy, and her voice is dazed, hollow. “All night.”
“That’s what you get for being a murderous kidnapper,” I fire back, my chest tight with disbelief. I know she’s ambitious and maybe even ruthless. I never thought murder fit in the picture. My voice scrapes raw. “Did you kill your mother?”
Corinda pales further, the yellow light catching her skin until she looks carved from wax. Her hands drop to her sides, useless, and her bottom lip trembles.
I drag my eyes back up to Wynd, the sight of him still a hammer against my skull. “It had to be you. Nobody else could’ve gotten Sylveria’s body inside the Malice Media structure.”
“Yeah, I dumped her body, but I didn’t shoot her,” he says carefully, eyes locked on Corinda, voice edged like steel.
“Corinda,” I whisper, stunned. My pulse stutters. I’d like to say nothing surprises me anymore, but this—this does.
Her shoulders curl inward. “You don’t understand.” Is she in shock?
I would be if I killed my own mother. “No, you’re right. I don’t.” My gaze bounces between the two of them, the diamond’s faint hum clawing up my spine. “What is this? Some lovers’ thing gone horribly wrong?”
Wynd glares at me. “I am so fucking tired of you.”
Is there any way I can reach Corinda? “I don’t know much about people and energy,” I mutter, forcing air into my lungs, “but I think he’s using you.
” My fingers twitch against the arms of the chair, searching for leverage.
Because someone who could kill her own mother isn’t going to help me, but maybe I can make her turn against him, somehow?
Of course he’s using her. A side door clicks open and Stacia strides in, her heels sharp against the concrete. She has that stupid sparkly purse at her elbow. Cheap glitter falls on the floor as she moves, and I fight another sneeze. So it is allergies.
Wynd lights up like someone jammed a live wire into him. “Hey, baby, things are going exactly like you said.”
My jaw drops. “Stacia?” I turn my head and sneeze, then look back at the purse. The fucking glitter purse. That’s why I’ve been sneezing lately? Wynd has been hanging out near it and bringing cheap glitter into my world?
She glances at me first, then at Corinda slumped near the diamond, then finally at Wynd. She moves against him, leaving glitter on his arm. Her smile is sharp enough to cut. “We’re tired of being second fiddles around here. I’m taking over TimeGem, and we’re going after Malice Media for Wynd.”
I cough, air jagged in my throat. “You’re going to take out both Justice and Thorn?”
“I am,” Wynd says, lifting one shoulder in that lazy way that makes my stomach twist. “I’m a distant cousin, and I can charge garnets.” He grins. “Justice will think Kaz took you. Not me.”
Fear makes my ears heat. “What did you do with Kaz?”
“You don’t need to worry about him any longer.” Wynd’s tone is too calm. “His body will never be found, unlike yours. Unfortunately, I’ll be the one to find you, and I’ll comfort Justice before I slice his throat.”
“You get to shoot this one,” Stacia says to him, eyes bright. Then her mouth curves in a cruel smile. “Shooting Mother took more out of me than I thought. That bitch fought.”
Corinda stumbles, her knees buckling. She falls into a chair, head rolling forward as if the strength’s been drained from her.
“Did she just pass out?” Stacia asks, tilting her head.
“Yeah,” Wynd murmurs. “We’ve been forcing her to charge for about fifteen hours, and I think she might need a break.” He turns and crushes his mouth against Stacia’s in a hard kiss.
“I want to gag.” The words rip out of me before I can stop them. Every time I’ve sneezed or had my eyes water, Wynd has been around. I didn’t realize it until right now. “I take it you gave Stacia that ugly-ass purse?”
He grins. “Yep. The next one will be diamonds.”
Stacia smirks when she pulls back. “You always thought I was the nice one. The funny one.” Her eyes gleam. “But I’m also the one with the brain, and we weren’t going anywhere with my mother, you, and the Beathachs in our way.”
What assholes. I try to make sense of any of this. “Wait a minute. The guy who tried to kill me in my safe house? That couldn’t have been you. You were outside and you saved me from him.”
“Yeah, I hired that guy,” Wynd said. “He was supposed to bring you here to charge the citrines as well as the gems I stole from Justice. I have a couple of beautiful alexandrites for you to try.” He glares.
“I felt Sylveria’s guy behind me, so I had to shoot my friend and get hit in the head.
Just to keep my cover. It’s your fault.”
Wow. I actually thought he was a decent guy. “You two haven’t thought this out. Charging the gems isn’t that easy. If you somehow take out Justice and Thorn, you won’t be able to handle the garnets, Wynd.” How stupid is he?
He shrugs. “I can charge them for a few years, and we’ll have a bunch of kids. Some of them will charge garnets, some the diamonds.”
Stacia’s smile is thin. “We can make it until then. If we have to keep good old Corinda with a chain around her ankle for the rest of her life to charge diamonds, we will.”