30. Chapter Thirty #3
Not Keaton. He’s just holding me down, still grinning. He arches an eyebrow at me. “What? Did you really think I was here to save you?”
Keaton presses hard against my cheek, forcing me to look over at a camera. I blink when it flashes. There’s a reflection in the lens. It’s not me the reflection shows, though. It’s Elliot.
It’s Elliot’s video, paused on the shot of his face, eyes distant, the boy that used to live inside his body now dead and gone.
“I’m sorry,” I tell his reflection. It’s all that’s left of him. He’s gone. Crumbled. Turned to dust.
I wonder how much longer I have to wait before I’ll get to do that too.
I jerk awake choking on a sob.
My shaking hands grab the edges of my keyboard before I can stop them. They need to do something. Anything. They need to fight back.
I smash the keyboard against one of the monitors.
The main one. The one showing me Elliot - a paused video I haven’t been able to get myself to turn off.
It feels like I’m abandoning him, by turning it off.
It feels like I’m leaving him behind, making him do this thing all alone, if I don’t keep him right there.
His face glitches, goes green, then the screen blackens.
I fall on my ass, elbow slamming into the edge of my desk, legs tangling with the office chair until it’s forced to fall too.
I sit there for a very long time.
Then I fix my chair and climb up on it. The guys are in the air. I need to get my shit together.
I pull out my last pills - one of each, the perfect combination to turn my mind off without sucking the energy right out of me.
I swallow bile.
Then I crack an energy drink open, pop the pills in my mouth, and swallow those too.
I don’t even have to try to keep it together after that. My life just happens and I keep living it and everything is fine. Perfectly fine. Everything just sort of passes over me. It’s amazing what a little bit of dissociation bolstered by a strong benzo-adrenaline combination can do for a guy.
I create the plans they’ll be expecting from me.
I print out files for everyone, laying the best option on top of each stack.
It’s not a kill like we had hoped. Pasternak has too many connections and too much security for that.
We’ll still handle him eventually, we don’t let people like him go, but it would take at least a week to get things in place, and that’s too long.
Every minute that goes by with Elliot still in his hands is a minute too long.
The fastest option is sending in an operative to buy him - Ronan. I just need the guys to agree with me before I can contact the man about it.
I sneak downstairs when they reach the security booth, ready to greet them with a smile that’s so much easier now.
The survivors are having some sort of dance party.
They’re drinking and laughing. Matt is letting Bryce twirl him like they’re some 1940s couple at a dance hall.
I stand in the archway and watch. I wonder if Matt would let me twirl him.
If I could get him to laugh while he does it, an added layer to the beautiful music that would be playing.
Not the blues, you don’t really twirl to the blues, but something old, something meant to be properly danced to.
Swing music, maybe. Then maybe something slow while we catch our breath.
Something by Ella, maybe I could pull him close, hold him to my chest, let our breathing calm and slow as peacefulness washes over us.
Bryce catches me watching, arching an eyebrow at me.
I grin, but it feels hard again. False. Aching.
The happy part of the pill combination always wears off so much faster than the energy.
The guys enter the house, drawing Bryce’s attention away.
There’s cheering and a hug. I step forward, ready to usher them into my office so we can talk plans.
None of them have any interest in me, though.
Jake zeroes right in on Casey, whispering something to him before they slip right outside to do god knows what.
Maison is busy manhandling a very obviously drunk Nolan upstairs.
Nolan is saying they should have hot sex, but Maison is assuring him that sleep is a much better idea.
When I look back at the group, Travis and Carter are already gone.
Bryce and Matt have disappeared too.
I’m just here, alone, too much energy buzzing through me.
It can wait until morning. It can’t, but it can. For them, at least, it can. I’ll get things done in the background. By the time they wake up, everything will be in place. All I’ll need from them is agreement and Ronan will be put into action.
If all goes perfectly, Ronan could own Elliot within the next 24 hours.
I switch to my other profile, the secret one, and send a secure message to Ronan that he’ll be getting a call at 0800 his local time and will be expected to answer it. He’s likely asleep for the time being, but will be up soon enough. I’ll wait. I can sleep later.
Or hell, maybe I won’t sleep later.
If I could get away with it, I think I’d like to never sleep again.