Page 45 of Wanted

On the stairs, I noticed that Valentina dared to follow me. “Weston, stop. Let’s sort this out.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I hissed, like everything that had happened was her fault.

“Don’t leave,” Valentina begged me. Her makeup-less face showed her emotions without hiding her eyes behind expensive mascara.

“What are you talking about?” I asked her. She was getting emotional again, her sobs a desperate plea.

She continued, “I have a feeling that you’re going to go after Kamila and Mandy.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, secretly considering the option. I had thought about it before.

“And I’m here to tell you that they’re going to be all right,” Valentina said. Sadness coated her voice. “We’re the ones struggling here. Right? Tell me that you see this. Mandy’s dad doesn’t care enough about her to cause her any damage. He discarded her here without any second thought. Aram is the one who we should be afraid of.”

“I’m terrified for Aris. He’s acting incredibly different lately, and I don’t know what to do about it,” she said skeptically. “Do you know why he’s changed? What’s happened to him? I’m still the same, right? I haven’t done anything to deserve his pity?”

“You should ask your husband,” I suggested.

“There hasn’t been a moment of peace and quiet for us since Kamila escaped,” Valentina reminded me. “Stay. Don’t go. We need to figure a way out of this mess together. Please, help us.”

Coldly, I responded, “I’m a Wraith. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you don’t have permission to ask things of me. Now go back to your husband and suck his dick like the obedient wife that you are.”

Reaching my room, I shut the door behind me loudly. I opened the windows because I needed some fresh air.

Mandy belonged to me. I had to get her back. That was all I could think of.

I approached my bed, only to find an unopened letter on it.

Carefully, I opened it.

“She’s safe,” the letter read.

It wasn’t signed by anyone, but I recognized Travis’ writing.

I trashed the letter. I’d taken a lot of hits these past few days. Travis taking care of the women that I should have taken care of was the final nail in the coffin.

Furious and admittedly hurt, I proceeded towards the palace.

WESTON

Silence was rarely found at the palace. It was always crowded with people who worked here or were visitors. Today I witnessed the stress that a Katantian disaster like Kamila’s escape caused. There were two groups of people in the palace—ones who were afraid of my almighty father and those who were not.

Things were looking down on us as an entity. We appeared pathetic from the outside. Research vessels kept violating our waters, and aircrafts loomed all over us, spying on the people and our government.

On the inside, we distracted our people by inflicting fear. If Kamila had gone away without a public departure, we wouldn’t be creating this myth around her escape. She would simply be on vacation, and the palace would look for her in secret.

Now that Kamila made it a public matter, it had to become a spectacle. Otherwise, we would lose the trust and loyalty of the Katantians. They loved our princess. We had to make her departure digestible.

In the past week, I stayed home, not working. Instead, I only checked my emails. I read that people shopped more in the days that passed. They were preparing for the end. I read lots of hate mail from Kamila’s friends. They knew that something was up. They were asking for a sign of life from her.

I wanted to message them that I wanted a sign of life from her, too.

From the border to the inner city’s depths, our police intimidated the public. Aram had allowed them to use the few firearms that the police department owned. This was an extraordinary situation, and it required special measures.

Outside of the palace grounds, tensions were high. Strolling through the halls, I made sure to greet every person I came across, even if it was somebody I didn’t know. People had to know I was still around. We weren’t dead. My sister was alive. We just had to find her. Or not? I didn’t fucking know what was better.

Every minute that passed meant that Travis was somewhere around here, a ticking bomb waiting to expose my home country. He was still breathing while my mother was thought of like a suicidal maniac.

Staff members waltzed around with straight backs and tense shoulders. Palace guards secured the premises. There was one at every corner. In times like these, the guards sprouted from everywhere. They were everywhere. Most of them were new faces, probably fresh out of Katantia’s underfunded police academy. I recognized the old guards by their prime and fitted clothing. Black shirts and black trousers were coupled with navy blue ties. Some wore suit vests, but only the ones who were on outside duty. I caught some of the newer guards with wrinkles in their shirts. There was the occasional spot of dirt on their shoes. Normally, they’d be reprimanded for their embarrassing appearance. Our emblem was all over their clothes. But after my sister and Mandy, I found that I could give a fuck less about these guys and their clothes.