Chapter Thirty-Two — For You
ELLIOT
Elliot stopped hearing the alarm. Not literally.
It still screamed somewhere beyond the locked interview-room door, sharp enough to vibrate through the walls and turn every second into something mechanical.
But Ronan was somewhere outside. That replaced everything.
Bell’s hand remained locked around Elliot’s shoulder beneath the table.
“Stay down.”
“No.”
“Elliot.”
“Let go.”
“You are currently under arrest for five homicides.”
“I noticed.”
“Then perhaps do not add attacking counsel to the afternoon.”
“I’m not going to attack you.”
“That is the most reassuring thing you’ve said all day.”
Another gunshot cracked through the hallway. Closer. Elliot’s entire body reacted. Bell tightened his grip.
“Stay.”
“Ronan is out there.”
“So are armed officers.”
“Saint is out there.”
“You do not know that.”
Elliot looked toward the red emergency light above the door.
Saint’s voice had come through the building speaker.
Live. Undistorted. Warm. Familiar only because Elliot had spent months reading that voice inside his own head.
Saint was here. Or close enough to control this place in real time.
Either way, Ronan was exposed. That was enough.
Elliot moved. Bell caught him around the upper arm.
“Do not.”
Elliot stared at the hand. Then at Bell.
“Please.”
Bell froze. That word. Apparently everyone who knew Elliot long enough understood when it mattered.
“Please let go.”
Bell’s expression changed. Not agreement. Concern.
“I cannot let you run into an active shooter situation.”
“Then come with me.”
Bell stared.
“That is somehow worse.”
A voice shouted outside. Another officer. Movement. Then silence. The alarm stopped. That was worse. The sudden absence made every sound sharper. Footsteps. A door slamming. Someone shouting a name Elliot couldn’t understand. Then his temporary holding-room speaker crackled. Saint.
“Still sitting?”
Elliot’s entire body went cold. Bell looked toward the ceiling. Saint laughed softly.
“I expected better.”
“Where is Ronan?”
Silence. Then:
“Ask nicely.”
Elliot closed his eyes. Fuck. Bell looked at him.
“Do not engage.”
Elliot ignored him.
“Where is Ronan?”
“Better.”
“Answer.”
“You confessed.”
Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
“No.”
A pause.
“You were supposed to need me.”
“I never needed you.”
Saint laughed.
“That’s what Ronan taught you to say.”
Elliot stood. Bell rose with him.
“Sit.”
“No.”
“Elliot.”
Saint continued.
“Did he tell you what he did after you left the room?”
His heartbeat changed.
“What?”
Bell looked toward him. Saint’s voice softened.
“Ronan lied for you so beautifully.”
Elliot stared at the speaker.
“You know that.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know he’s not leaving.”
Silence. Interesting. Saint said:
“He already did.”
Elliot’s stomach dropped.
“What does that mean?”
No answer.
“Saint.”
A soft laugh. Then the speaker went dead. Elliot moved toward the door. Bell stepped between him and it.
“No.”
“Move.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Ronan is gone.”
“You do not know that.”
“Saint said—”
“Saint has manipulated you for months.”
“I know.”
“Then why believe that?”
Because it scared him. That was the answer. Not evidence. Fear. Saint knew exactly which sentence would make Elliot move. Ronan already did. Fuck. Elliot stopped. Bell saw.
“Good.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Say it like that.”
Bell frowned. Elliot looked away. Good. Good boy. Reward. Approval. Saint. Ronan. Everything tangled. He breathed once. Slow. Another. Ronan had asked for choice. Not reaction. Fine. Elliot stepped away from the door. Bell’s shoulders lowered.
“I need information.”
“Good.”
There it was again. Elliot glared. Bell sighed.
“Unfortunate phrasing.”
“Very.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Where Ronan is.”
“I can ask.”
“Do it.”
Bell moved toward the wall phone. Dead. Of course. He tried the door. Locked from outside.
“Wonderful.”
Elliot stared at the ceiling. Saint had isolated the room.
Not randomly. Him. Specifically. The hallway beyond went quiet.
Too quiet. Then a mechanical click sounded at the lock.
Bell froze. Elliot did too. The door opened.
Not Vance. Nathan. Elliot forgot to breathe.
Nathan wore restraints around his wrists.
One cuff still attached. The other hanging open.
Blood marked the side of his face. He smiled.
“Hi.”
Bell immediately stepped in front of Elliot. Nathan laughed.
“That’s adorable.”
Elliot stared.
“How the fuck did you get out?”
“Saint.”
Bell looked toward the hallway.
“No officers?”
Nathan’s smile widened.
“Busy.”
Elliot’s attention moved to the blood.
“Whose?”
Nathan looked down.
“Not mine.”
The answer came too casually. Elliot’s pulse sharpened.
“Ronan.”
Nathan tilted his head.
“What about him?”
Elliot moved. Bell caught him. Nathan laughed.
“There.”
“Where is he?”
“Saint was right.”
“Where is Ronan?”
Nathan’s expression brightened.
“You really do stop thinking when it’s him.”
Elliot’s entire body tightened. Bell stepped closer.
“Nathan, back away.”
Nathan ignored him.
“You were always better than me.”
Elliot stared.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Saint told you that.”
Nathan’s smile faltered. Tiny. Good. Elliot continued.
“Didn’t they?”
Silence. Bell looked between them. Elliot stepped forward. Nathan did not retreat.
“They told you I was special.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Shut up.”
“There.”
Elliot almost smiled.
“They told you I understood something you didn’t.”
“Shut up.”
“They made you watch me.”
Nathan’s face hardened.
“You liked being watched.”
“Yes.”
Bell looked toward Elliot. Not relevant. Nathan’s breathing changed. Elliot continued.
“Then when I chose Ronan, you thought if you could make yourself part of the story Saint would choose you again.”
“Stop.”
“Did they?”
Nathan’s eyes flashed. Elliot knew. No. Saint had used him too.
“Where is Ronan?”
Nathan stared. Then smiled again.
“Ask Saint.”
“Saint isn’t here.”
Nathan laughed.
“You’re sure?”
The hallway speaker crackled. Saint’s voice.
“Careful, Nathan.”
Nathan froze. There. Fear. Immediate. Elliot saw it. Saint continued.
“You’re becoming emotional.”
Nathan looked toward the ceiling.
“I brought him out.”
“You were told to wait.”
“He asked about Ronan.” Silence. Nathan’s face changed.
Too late. Elliot understood. Saint had not told Nathan where Ronan was.
Nathan was improvising. Good. One less variable.
“Where is Ronan?” Elliot asked again. Nathan looked at him.
“Safe.” That word meant nothing now. “With who?” No answer.
Saint spoke. “Elliot.” He looked toward the ceiling.
“You wanted a choice.” “No. You did.” Silence.
Then Saint laughed softly. “Still learning.” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“You lost.” Nathan looked at him. Bell did too.
Saint went quiet. Elliot continued. “You wanted me to choose red.” “Yes.” “I didn’t.
” “You chose your mother.” “Yes.” “Because Ronan asked.” “Yes.” Another silence.
Elliot smiled faintly. “You hate that.” Saint’s voice changed.
Barely. “Do I?” “Yes.” “You think this is jealousy?” “Yes.” Nathan laughed.
Saint did not. Interesting. Elliot continued.
“You wanted me to need your approval.” “I gave you freedom.” “No.” “I gave you permission.” “I didn’t need it.
” “You took it.” Elliot stared. That was true.
Partly. Fine. He could survive truth now.
“Yes.”
Bell glanced at him. Elliot ignored it.
“But I stopped.”
“Because of him.”
“Yes.”
There. No shame. Nathan’s expression twisted. Saint went quiet. Elliot stepped closer to the open doorway. Bell didn’t stop him this time.
“You never mattered more than Ronan.”
Nathan’s face hardened. Saint said nothing. Good. Elliot’s pulse steadied. This was working. Not because Saint was losing control. Because Elliot was. Different. He wasn’t reacting. He was choosing each word. Ronan would like that. Fuck. Thinking his name hurt.
“Where is he?”
Saint finally answered.
“Downstairs.”
Elliot’s heartbeat kicked.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
A pause. Then the speaker changed. Static. Movement. And Ronan’s voice.
“Elliot?”
Every part of him stopped.
“Ronan.”
“I’m fine.”
He sounded breathless. Angry. Alive. Relief hit so hard Elliot grabbed the table edge. Ronan continued.
“Do not fucking come down here.”
Elliot almost laughed. Of course.
“Are you hurt?”
“Not really.”
“That is not an answer.”
“You sound like me.”
“Elliot.”
“What?”
“Stay there.”
Elliot looked toward Nathan. Nathan watched with something ugly in his face. Saint’s voice returned.
“Sweet.”
Ronan shouted through whatever microphone Saint had near him.
“Fuck you.” Elliot smiled. There he was.
Saint sighed. “Neither of you appreciates theater.” Ronan answered: “I appreciate theater. This just sucks.” Bell actually laughed.
Small. Then caught himself. Saint went silent.
Elliot looked toward Nathan. “Why is Ronan downstairs?” Nathan said nothing.
Saint answered. “Because he came looking for you.” Elliot froze.
Ronan had been leaving? No. Saint continued.
“He heard the first shot.” Elliot’s stomach turned.
“And?” “He did exactly what you would have done.” No.
Ronan had promised. Not to become him. “What did he do?” Silence.
Ronan spoke first. “I tackled a guy.” Elliot closed his eyes.
Fuck. “Who?” “One of Nathan’s friends.” Nathan laughed.
“Friend is generous.” Ronan continued. “He had a gun.” Elliot’s blood went cold.
“Did he shoot you?” “No.” “Ronan.” “No.” “Where are you hurt?” “My shoulder.” “What happened?” “Wall.” Elliot breathed.
Fine. Bruise. Not bullet. Good. Then Saint said: “He chose violence.” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
Ronan replied: “I chose not getting shot.” Saint ignored him. “See, Elliot?” “No.”
“He’s becoming you.”
“No.”
“Slowly.”
“No.”
Saint’s voice softened.
“For you.”