Page 42

CHAPTER 42

Billie

M y head is fucking pounding. I moan, trying my hardest to push past the fog in my brain, but it feels like I’m not waking up fast enough.

Groggily, I open my eyes. I blink once and then twice, trying to clear my hazy vision. Ow. Fuck me, my head really hurts.

“It’s about time you woke up.” I turn my head in the direction of the voice to find the woman from the cab sitting in the corner.

“Who the fuck are you?” I say, slowly pushing myself up from the cold cement floor.

I scan my surroundings. I’m in what looks like a cell. There’s a small single bed to my left and a sink in the corner that’s stained with mold.

“That’s not a polite way to ask, considering I’m offering you such fine hospitality,” the woman says. “Didn’t think you’d actually fall for the coffee trick. I was going to use chloroform as a backup, but you took that coffee without question.”

I squint at her. She doesn’t look familiar. Should I know her?

“And who I am is irrelevant. It’s not you I want, but you make good bait for the one I’m after.” She glances up the stairs, where I can see a door. We must be in some kind of basement or bunker.

Bait? What is she talking about?

I blink rapidly as I try to stand, but my body isn’t cooperating.

“I used to have a lover too, you know. He was very handsome, and we were bound to get married and have kids and live happily ever,” she singsongs. “He’d just gotten a really high paying job, and he promised to take me around the world. But then your boyfriend and his brother swept in, killing everyone.”

She giggles, the erratic movement making her shoulders twitch. Blisters bubble up her fingers and arms. “He let me go, you know. Your well-trained demon. Most people might have been grateful, but I thought he was mocking me. He took everything from me, and I was left all by myself again.”

She laughs hysterically. “Kids called me weird in school, but I always enjoyed experimenting with different potions. Kind of like a witch, you know? Or a scientist? Sometimes they hurt, though.” She pouts, looking at the blisters on her arms.

This woman is not fucking sane, I realize. She jumps from one trauma to another, and I’d be so fucking terrified for myself if I didn’t already know I was being used to lure in Ford.

“He would never kill a woman,” I grit. “And whatever business you have with him, you can take it up with me.”

She laughs. “And what? Ruin the fun? It’s rather poetic, isn’t it?” She squeezes the stool she’s sitting on and puts her hand to her lips. “Or wouldn’t it be crazy if he didn’t come? What if he doesn’t actually care? Ooof. I don’t know if I’d survive that. I’d probably want to kill myself.”

She looks pointedly at a bottle that’s propped on a stool in the middle of the room. It seems to glow against the dim light.

The steady sound of water dripping breaks some of the tension in the room.

The woman angles her head strangely, as if listening in on something, and then she points a gun in my direction. “Looks like he’s a hero after all. How sweet,” she purrs as the wooden door at the top of the stairs is flung open.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. I have a perfect shot,” she warns.

“No,” I squeak quietly. I see his feet before his face as he comes down the steps.

“Be a darling and close the door. Things are about to get interesting in here,” she says to Ford as he prowls into the room.

I try to stand again, but my legs feel like jelly.

His gaze lands on me, and without so much as being told, he lowers his crowbars.

“She has nothing to do with this,” he growls. “Take me and let her go.”

She laughs, swinging her legs joyfully. “On the contrary. You took something precious from me, so I’m going to do the same to you.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and she throws her hands in the air. “Isn’t it funny how no one ever notices you when you’re a woman? You went after my brother but never considered me, huh?”

Understanding dawns in Ford’s eyes. “You’re Emily Fall. Henry Fall’s sister.”

“Bingo!” she shouts, pretending to shoot him. “Now, get in the cage with your beloved.”

Although the cell door isn’t locked, I’m incapable of standing, no matter how hard I try, so I couldn’t have escaped even if I’d had an opportunity.

He doesn’t hesitate slipping into the cell with me. She’s smug as she crosses the room and padlocks the door.

Ford rushes over to me, desperately scooping me into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeats, and my eyebrows knit together.

I weakly place my hand on his cheek. “This isn’t your fault. It was bound to happen one day, considering what our families do.”

He presses his forehead to mine, and I’m overwhelmed by the knowledge that this man will find me no matter what. I’m terrified of what’s going to happen to us, but right now, I have all the confidence of a grim reaper, even if I can’t physically stand up. It seems less scary by his side. Though I wish he wasn’t in here with me like some sacrificial lamb.

“Aww, how cute!” the deranged woman gushes, and Ford snaps on her.

“You’ll let her out, or so help me, others will come after you. You can do whatever you want with me, but she goes free.”

Emily looks shocked for a moment and then smiles, clearly out of her fucking mind. “I’ll be long gone before anyone comes here. But I can’t say for sure how many days or weeks you’ll be here for.” She taps the edge of the gun against her chin. “But let me tell you how this little game works. I’ve been working on my concoctions, you see.” She motions to the small bottle on the stool. “This one should be stronger. The other ones took too long for me to get instant gratification.” An evil glint flashes in her eyes before she says, “One of you is going to drink that before I let the other one go.”

“What?” I blurt, trying to stand again. Ford blocks my view of the crazy woman. I understand he’s protecting me, but every hair on my body rises in terror at how things are shifting.

“And if I drink this, you’ll let her go?” he asks without hesitation.

“No,” I growl, pushing myself as hard as possible to stand on my wobbly legs.

“Of course,” Emily says, looking into the barrel of the gun, like she might shoot herself.

I wish she would. I hate that the thought crosses my mind, but I’m willing to put that gun to her head myself if it means we’ll make it out of this alive.

We have to make it out alive.

I’m infuriated by my own inability to stand. All those years I took self-defense classes. Honing skills to use if I ever found myself in a worst-case scenario. Yet I’d somehow so easily fallen for a trick like that. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and my brother’s words of not taking my safety seriously come back to me. Had I been more cautious in the first place, Ford and I wouldn’t be here right now.

“You’re lying. You’ll just kill us both,” I sneer. Emily tilts her head, leaning to the side so she can see me. My silk dress from the previous day is all dirty now, and I imagine I look like a fucking mess. But her eyes sparkle like I’m the most magnificent thing in the room. I shudder at her crazed fixation.

Ford once again moves to block me from her line of sight.

“Motivation is key, I see.” She pulls the trigger, and I scream, the jolt of adrenaline and fear forcing me to close my eyes. But when I don’t feel pain, they burst open, and a dread fills me.

Ford grunts but doesn’t move as his hand goes to his leg. “My, my. Even a demon bleeds red. Just like my boyfriend and just like my brother,” Emily seethes. “Drink what’s in the bottle, or the next one goes into your head, and then I’ll shoot her.”

“Ford, don’t do it. We can figure this out,” I squeak, trying to drag myself to him.

He turns then, those dark-brown eyes the lightest I’ve ever seen them, which is ridiculous considering the dim lighting in here. Blood runs down his leg, and he smiles, beautiful and stoic, unfiltered from all the things that once weighed us down as if he always knew it might come to this.

I know immediately, and my heart squeezes. “Don’t you fucking dare!” I scream.

“It’s been fun, Chaos. Thank you for loving me even when you couldn’t say it out loud.” He smirks playfully. And I throw myself weakly in his direction.

He’s too quick. All of it happens in a blink of an eye. Emily leans forward on the edge of her stool in anticipation, waiting excitedly, her breath held. I can’t stand or chase him or drag him to me as he grabs the bottle and gulps down the contents.

His face scrunches up as he wipes his mouth. “Definitely not sweet.” It’s almost instantly his body lurches backward, and I barely have time to catch him as he falls. His weight slams into me, and I smack the back of my head against the brick wall, but I don’t even feel it.

“Ford,” I squeak as I stare down at his unconscious, pale face. “Ford!” I cry. “Ford! Wake up right fucking now!” I scream violently. My hands are shaking as I slap him. I slap him again as hard as I can. I wait for his devilish smirk or the telltale sign that he’s bated me into arguing with him. I wait for him, but there’s nothing.

Emily whistles a tune as she scoots off the stool. “My Peter would’ve died for me as well,” she says as she rests the gun over her shoulder, dangling it casually with a loose wrist. “Oh well, now you can die in here together.”

“Let us out!” I scream. “Ford. Oh God. Ford, please.” I put my fingers to his throat, trying to find a pulse. It’s barely there. But it’s there. He’s still with me. “Don’t you fucking leave me, you asshole!”

“Well, toodaloo!” Emily says as she moves toward the staircase.

“Why didn’t you kill me too?” I scream violently, desperately trying to tap Ford back to consciousness. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.

Please, let me fix this.

Her gaze is cold and distant as she looks back over her shoulder at me. “Because that would be too easy. You and I will forever live with the same pain, knowing what it’s like to have someone we love taken from us and being left behind in an abyss.”

I realize then with startling clarity that she most likely wants to be caught, wants to be killed. I wonder if she was ever a normal woman or if the trauma fucked her up so badly she became this wraith of a creature. I can’t empathize with any of it as I scream, unhinged, chaotically, wanting it to tear everything around us down.

“Oooh, a trophy,” she coos, picking up one of Ford’s crowbars.

“Leave that there!” I yell.

“Why?” she asks daringly. “It’s not like anyone is going to find you two. Besides, he’s already a dead man. And a dead man doesn’t need such an uncivilized weapon.”

“Says the bitch who poisons people. You’re a coward!” I bite out.

She shrugs, unaffected by my words, as she reaches for the door. “I’m a woman living in a man’s world. I found the tools that work for me. Not all of us are handed everything, princess.”

Without so much as another glance, she opens the door. Bright light filters in and blinds me as she steps out and closes the door behind her. My heart is rattling in my chest, and I think I’m about to have a panic attack. My eyes adjust to the gloom again as I stare down at his thick eyelashes.

What the fuck do I do?

“Ford?” My voice cracks.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Stop.

I slap myself across the face, hoping it wakes up my slow moving body and reins in my focus. I taste blood, and it’s enough to drag me back to my senses. I need to get us out of here.

I kiss his forehead. “I’ll get us out. I promise.”

I drag myself across the cement and onto the bed. My legs are still wobbly as I stretch my arm through the bars toward the remaining crowbar. I can’t reach it, so I try to jump, and my ankle gives out. I scream, feeling a sharp, shooting pain as I crumple to the aged mattress.

I take a deep breath and then two more, staring at the crowbar dangling above my head. I dig my nails into the cement wall, determined I will get us out no matter what.

With a steely resolve, I get back to my feet. It’s not until the fourth jump that my fingers brush the edge of the crowbar. By the sixth, it clatters off the step, and I barely catch it, terrified it’ll fall in the opposite direction.

The smooth metal is cold in my hands, and I inhale, knowing this is the weapon Ford chooses to kill with. Even though it’s irrelevant at the moment, I wonder how many people he’s murdered. I accepted the fact that he was a killer from the start. But if anyone should live, it’s him.

“Stop being a drama queen and wake up,” I shout with my back to him, as I’m not daring enough to look back at him, terrified I might not see the rise and fall of his chest. I talk to him like he’s awake, reprimanding him like I always do, because it’s the only thing pushing me through. I hold the crowbar outside the bars and angle it down, then strike at the padlock again and again and again.

My hands slip, and I smash my arms. But I ignore it. I strike, and I strike, infuriated by my own weakness.

“I should’ve never gotten in that cab,” I curse, tears streaming down my face.

With bruised, bleeding, and battered arms, the padlock breaks. I’m so shocked that my tears turn into a savage determination I’ve never known.

I drop to my knees, finally looking at him again.

I will not cry.

We are not done.

“Come on, baby. Wake up. Please .”

He doesn’t respond. I awkwardly try to lift him. I try a few times, my knees dropping to the hard cement under his weight. I drag myself across the bars with his weight crushing me. Slowly, I drag him up the stairs, his crowbar shoved into the back of his pants, convincing myself he’ll be sad when he wakes up if he doesn’t have it.

Because he will wake up.

He has too.

I shove at the door, but it doesn’t budge.

“Come on, Billie,” I groan as I try again.

It swings open, and bright light takes away my sight. I immediately twist myself around Ford, trying to protect him as I sob, knowing the woman’s come back to finish the job.

“Little Tornado!” I hear the voice before I see him, and tears well in my eyes as I look up.

“Hawke.” My voice quivers. “She poisoned him. Please, help.”

When my vision finally clears, I see the sheer horror and panic on Hawke’s face. He pulls Ford from my arms without so much as a strain and grabs my hand to pull me to my feet.

We’re in the middle of nowhere, trees surrounding us. In the distance, I see Hawke’s car.

He half drags me across the grass as he carries his brother over his shoulder. I’ve never seen him in a panic like this. He is fast moving, laser focused and looks like he’s in total control. He’s usually so playful, but even his alter demeanor terrifies me, the reality of how bad the situation is sinking in.

“I’m sorry,” I say on a sob, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. He’s laser focused on getting us out of here. My legs buckle, but I push through, still affected by whatever the fuck she gave me.

When we reach the car, bile fills my stomach. Hawke’s and Ford’s cars are beside one another. But there’s a third car, which I assume to be Emily’s. Beside the open door, I see her lying on the ground, her mouth open, a gunshot wound to her head. Hawke must’ve tracked Ford’s car and found her when she was escaping.

Hawke throws his brother into the back seat, and I crawl in behind him, placing his head on my lap, sobbing as I comb my fingers through his hair.

“Wake up, you asshole,” I cry. “Please. Please. ”

I’ve never known fear like this, a vise around my throat painfully closing in on me as I begin to realize his breathing has slowed.

Hawke throws the two crowbars into the passenger seat, obviously sharing the same thought as me, expecting Ford to come back to us and carry on with his life.

“Please, please, please,” I beg. “Hawke, I don’t know what to do,” I cry as he hits the gas.

His gaze flicks to me, and it’s the most lethal I’ve ever seen him. I startle at the intensity and imminent guarantee of death. “You’ve done enough, little tornado.”

Every hair on my body rises as I realize I’ve become the threat.

An obvious weakness for a man who’s considered more demon.

But he still bleeds…for me.

And it’s cost him his life.

And me with it.