Chapter 17 #2
“Let’s kill some rats.” He smirks, and we go out, the both of us, back to the elevator, then to the car, heading outside the city, where the lights end and the forest begins.
Right into the belly of the beast. Although jumping from a plane with Nate or trying spicy scorpions in South America was quite heart-racing, this time, I have never been calmer.
Composed. Focused. The ride chips away any crumbs of fear and stress.
Because Ella is all I can think about: her and her way of watching me like I am a good thing brought to this world; her and her ways of being mad at me despite her lack of voice; her and her presence seeing right through me on any occasion.
I used to watch over the gray skyscrapers, wondering if she existed.
This person. My person. Waiting for me. And she was, all along, trapped inside a cage I should have freed her from long ago.
She feels like cold water on my face, like a collision of the best sort, a car crash that keeps on happening, only it’s not destroying me.
It’s destroying everything I have ever held onto: the loneliness, the obsession with living a disciplined life like I was meant for this, when sharing a piece of cake with her had actually brought more joy to my life than anything I had ever done.
Ella shows me happiness is in the little things, as long as they are with her.
We ride, lights out, the city now behind us, with no music because the concrete under the wheels is enough to remind us of where we are heading—Cole’s manor.
The thing so big it only contrasts with what I gather is a total lack of self-confidence.
With one last check on my surveillance app, I run my thumb over her silhouette, curled on my side of the bed, wearing my T-shirt, exactly where she should have always been.
The image blurs, and I notice the signal disappearing.
“No signal,” Matt grunts. “They must have jamming emitters made for this. There’s a satellite phone in the glove box if needed.
” My knee bounces. This isn't ideal, but aside from this grain of sand in the neat architecture of my plan, her safety is bulletproof.
I have a team at home monitoring the perimeter and circling the block.
Cameras on every entrance. A tracker in her phone.
I have left nothing to fate. Whoever tries to get near her will end up in a bloodbath before catching even a glimpse of her.
I have covered every corner of my plan, thought through every move, outlined every detail.
Nothing can happen to her. Even with a damn signal cut, she will remain safe while I take care of the only threat left.
A part of me, far in the back of my head, tells me I should go back.
But another part, the one thirsting for her protection, needs to act before Cole makes an irreversible move.
I will be home soon, next to her, and perhaps I will find enough courage to tell her, to tell her that I have fallen for her.
That I love her in the way that no future is worth it if it is not beside her.
That I intend on buying her books until the end of time and filling our house with cheesecakes and light blue cushions and even flowers if she wants me to.
That loving her is a second nature, a vital need.
“Over there,” I point, noticing the staff entrance on the side of the manor.
“There, it will be easier to enter.” It is not like we are going to knock on the door.
We are going to climb the fence, break in, and perhaps…
perhaps slit his throat in his sleep. I’m not sure yet.
But the closer we get, the more definitive my plan becomes.
Threatening never worked. I’ll need to go all in this time.
We park in the darkness, the wind and branches so loud I am sure no one noticed our arrival since we were driving without lights on.
Still, you can never be sure. Matt turns off the car, and I can hear my heart in my temples, equal tempo, as if I am underwater.
A simple exchange of looks tells me Matt is ready too.
“Wait for me here. If I am not back in ten, drive away.”
“No.”
“That was not a question.”
“I am coming with you.”
“I need you here to have my back and get the car driving when I get out.”
“It’s that personal; you want to go in there alone?”
“Yeah. It is that personal.” And because I won't put him at more risk since he's already committed more than he should have, I'll carry all the weight of the consequences.
He lets out a groan, shaking his head, and I take out my Glock, checking the bullet before opening the door. Before closing it, I hold the door.
“It was a hell of a ride to get to know you,” I tell him, my voice low and not expecting an answer.
He clenches his jaw, and I shut the door because we are not here to have a dramatic goodbye, and hence, perhaps no goodbye at all, but I have learned from Nate that telling people about feelings is a good thing, so.
Well, I can't say I didn't try. In total darkness, I find the staff door and manage to grip the brick wall, climb its four, and slide above it with a not-so-graceful drop.
An owl chants away, and I am met with complete darkness.
Alone, in enemy territory. Going back to all the times my father sent me hunting with him, I remind myself of all the lessons he taught me.
Easy steps, keep a low profile, find the prey, match your breathing to theirs, and wait, wait until they relax in the false comfort and then, then you strike.
I crack my neck, heading toward a window that will be my door, guiding me to Cole Vodianov.
One of us will die tonight. With one last thought going to my woman and her soft heart holding on to all the good parts of me, I let the darkness take possession of me, becoming one with it.
No longer man. No longer human. Just a predator, hunting for the kill.
And I hope I make it, because my Ella is waiting for me, and when I come back, I will tell her.
I will tell her how much she changed everything.
How much I love her.
I’ll tell her, I repeat to myself.
I’ll tell her I love her.
Ella
What is this noise? My temples hurt like crazy. It is five a.m., and my phone keeps ringing. I was peacefully drifting away when the alarm dragged me out of the heaven I was barely setting foot in.
“Tristan? Tristan?” I repeat, my lips moving despite the silence hitting me back.
His bedside lamp casts a honey-like light on the room, sparing me from complete darkness.
He is not here, but just a few minutes ago, he was; he was there, right?
I did not make that up? Has he already gone to find the person who threatened me?
And why do I feel my lungs closing in on me, ruffling the sheets, searching everywhere in the room as if this was a bad joke? There’s a note on his pillow.
I’m taking care of everything.
Do not leave the house.
I’ll see you in a few hours, sweetheart.
T.
It should reassure me, but my heart doesn’t catch up; the alarm sound is still pulsing in the room.
Catching my phone on the bedside table, I cannot see who’s calling—unknown caller.
Swiping right just to make it stop, I press it close to my ear.
Whoever is calling must have no idea that a call isn't ideal for talking to me.
“E-Ella,” Dad’s weak voice calls from the other side of the line as I rise onto my knees on the bed.
Dad? Why are you calling me? My mouth moves, but no sound comes out, and I curse myself for not being able to say something.
Why is he calling me? We never, ever call.
Why would we, when I cannot speak? And why would he call in the middle of the night?
Did something happen? Just the one night I am not there.
I curse myself over and over for my recklessness.
“Ella, I…I need…I need you. I’m…I’m going.
I can…can feel it.” He falters, and my heart shatters.
Going? Right now? No, yesterday he was still all right.
Drowsy and almost asleep, but he could breathe.
Dead people do not breathe, right? This cannot be happening.
And how could he get hold of a phone? His hands struggle to sign, so holding a phone would be a miracle.
“Ella,” he repeats. “Plea…please.” I gasp in horror, palm over my mouth.
Instinct takes over as dad’s face appears in my mind, pale and helpless and alone.
My logic cracks under the weight of him being my only family, the only reason I have kept going when life didn't feel worth it anymore.
I know I should not go out. I know. I promised Tristan, and promises are meant to be kept, and...
One step after the other, panic moves me before logic can catch up.
I do not even register myself leaving the room.
All I know is that if there is the slightest chance of my father truly needing me, then I have to be there for him.
I already lost my mom. I cannot lose Dad and not be there, not when he needs me.
I will find a way. Rushing into my clothes, I realize I have no one to drive me there.
A two-dollar bill still sits in my purse, saved for emergency bus tickets.
That could do it, assuming a bus is nearby.
Storming out of the bedroom with my work shoes on, I sprint to the first floor and the main door, realizing I did not tell Tristan I was leaving.
Typing as fast as I can, I hear the whoosh of the message.
I try to video call him, but he does not answer.
I will text. At least he will know where I am.
If only he had put a tracker on my phone, it would have been easier.
Me: I’m going home. Emergency with my dad. Please join me when you’re done.