37. Sara
Sara
“Help!” Despite the way my voice cracks, I keep yelling. Eventually, someone will come to check on me. I have to believe as much, or I’ll break down.
“Sara?” Angela’s voice erupts like a chorus of “Hallelujah,” and I rail against the door.
“Yes! Thank God. Angela, let me out.” I rattle the knob for good measure, retreating only when the keypad beeps and the door clicks open.
Angela hovers in the threshold and gapes. “What the hell are you doing in there?”
“Dante. He—” I stumble to a halt, my words tripping over one another. As much as I want to go into detail, I need to get to Jeremy. If I act fast, I can still catch up. “Did you drive here today? Do you have your car?”
My heart races so fast I might be one beat away from a myocardial infarction. I lunge for freedom, only for Angela to block my way. “Where are you going?”
The first stirrings of unease tease the back of my neck. “Jeremy’s been kidnapped. I have to get to him. Now.”
“Oh no, Sara. That’s terrible.” Her tone is flat, but what really snags my attention is the fact that she refuses to budge.
“Angela.” My hands clench at my sides as my apprehension swells. “Move. I need to get to my brother.”
Angela crosses her arms over her middle. “I can’t let you do that. Dante’s orders.” She throws in the last part as if it’s nothing more than an afterthought.
I clutch the front of my cardigan to steady my hands as the truth barrels into me like a freight train.
Nothing alarming about Angela appeared on the crosscheck, but I’ll admit that originally, I mentally scratched her off the list and only performed a cursory scan of her data.
I’m starting to believe I made a mistake.
After spending some time ruminating, Dante’s certain the person who informed him that Jackson died from internal bleeding was a man, and I now recall Jasmine teasing Angela about getting friendly with Roberto, who’s one of the alternate male nurses.
I envision the photo in his file, and my lungs hitch.
I couldn’t see his hair, because he had it pulled back, but the color was dark brown. Even though I was picturing a woman based on Sammy’s description of “long hair,” I realize he never specified the nurse’s gender. He only said he saw “someone.”
The pieces fit. I thought Angela was leading me to safety the night of the attack, but instead, she delivered me directly to the men who wanted to hurt me. She also prevented me from getting help and scurried off to hide as soon as the shooting started.
That night, those men were waiting for a signal.
I can still remember the piercing whistle that preceded the gunfight.
During nursing school, Angela would sometimes whistle to capture my attention in the crowded halls.
I’d forgotten about that until this very moment, but now that shrill note is all I can hear.
For some reason, my mind wanders to the Ghost’s letter. I’ve read the stupid thing so many times that I can recite the words by heart.
“And I, John, heard and saw these things. And, after I had heard and seen, I fell down, so as to adore before the feet of the Angel, who was revealing these things to me.” – Revelation 22:8
“Now at times an Angel of the Lord would descend into the pool, and so the water was moved. And whoever descended first into the pool, after the motion of the water, he was healed of whatever infirmity held him.” – John 5:4
Now, here I am, staring at Angela, suddenly certain that the angel Enzo referenced was her.
Every moment spent with my supposed best friend was a manipulation, a trick designed to undermine Dante’s search.
Panic breaches my defenses, and the world tilts on its axis.
I can’t breathe past the overwhelming tide of betrayal.
When Angela places a soft hand on my shoulder, under the guise of comfort, my devastation quickly transforms into fury. I grab her arm, tuck my hip into her body, and flip her over my shoulder.
The move is one I practiced with Dante repeatedly during training, and I perform it perfectly. Angela slams onto the concrete with a satisfying thud that knocks the air out of her lungs.
“If you manage to catch them by surprise, don’t give them time to recover.”
I can almost hear Dante barking the order, compelling me to launch myself at Angela. Straddling her chest and trapping her arms at her sides with my knees, I drive my fist into her nose.
The blow explodes like a shockwave through my knuckles and the muscles in my arm. Blood sprays, hot and wet and metallic. I lick the sweat off my upper lip, letting the salty flavor ground me.
Angela clutches her face while a giggle escapes her bloody lips.
My eyes narrow. Picturing all the times Angela smiled in my face while plotting behind my back, I punch her in the jaw. The force whips her head to one side and splatters a crimson arc across the floor and wall.
She runs her tongue along her split lip. She’s angrier than I’ve ever seen her, but she’s still Angela. Still the woman I thought I knew.
My supposed best friend.
Then she offers a self-satisfied smirk that blossoms into a Cheshire grin, and my stomach bottoms out. How? How could I have missed the twisted bitch she was behind the mask? Was I so desperate for belonging that I ignored every warning sign along the way?
I’m nothing more than a tool to her, a means to an end.
“Why?” I spent so long believing in our friendship. Was none of it true? “Why would you do this to Dante? To me?” I rake my hands through my hair and yank the strands until my scalp stings. “Do you know what you put us through? And for what?”
Angela’s bright peal of laughter is the only authentic thing about her. “If I don’t tell you, will you try to beat it out of me?” She seems almost excited by the idea.
My fist clenches. Could I really do such a thing?
No.
Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t have the time. Jeremy, and potentially Dante, are in danger, which takes precedence over everything, even Angela’s betrayal.
Right now, I need to focus on doing whatever I can to get to SilverTech before it’s too late.
Exhibiting what I consider to be admiral restraint, I rise and offer her a hand to help her up.
She hesitates before accepting it, and when I pull my former best friend vertical, I drive my knee into her nose.
Her eyes roll back into her head, and once she’s out cold, I rifle through her front pockets and extract her car keys.
Grabbing her by the hair, I drag her across the cell floor to the wall, locking her into the same manacle that marked my first few days in Dante’s home. I remember the misery of wearing that shackle around my neck, but Angela…she deserves this.
Once I’ve secured her, I navigate to the security room to check the cameras. I need to ensure I can get out of here without being detained by any guards still in the house.
I scan the screen for a few minutes, clocking one guard on the third floor by the doors to the clinic and two near the empty interrogation room.
The remaining three I locate in the Red Room on the first floor, raiding Dante’s liquor cabinet.
They probably figured between my cell and Angela keeping an eye on me, there was no need for extra surveillance in the basement.
Thank goodness not everyone treats their duties as seriously as Gregor, otherwise I’d be screwed.
My pulse nearly deafens me as I rush up the stairwell and out the front door, beelining straight for Angela’s blue sedan. Getting in, I’m momentarily struck by the familiar smell of her perfume. Lemon and bergamot. I remember buying her an extra bottle from the mall for her birthday.
The knife of her disloyalty twists a little deeper, and I wonder if it ever gets easier. I can’t look back at our years together without my every action leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
I look up the address for SilverTech on my phone’s GPS app, roll down the windows, and punch the gas.