He’s completely at Casey’s mercy.
“Fuck you,” the man whines, but Casey is too busy strangling him. His eyes bug out of his head, the veins popping in the whites of his eyes, the man’s fingers grappling with the restraint.
Security must see this; they have to.
And yet no one makes an appearance.
My hand moves to the syringe in my pocket, the vial of powdered poison in the other.
When they come, I’ll tear them all down.
I’ll do it. If they don’t bring him to me, if he’s not safe. If he’s hurt.
The bartender falls to his knees, and Casey goes with him, his lips at his ear, whispering something to him.
It’s only when the man goes limp on the floor that Casey stands up, the necklace twisted around his fist, a loud exhale piercing the silence.
“Fuck. That guy was an asshole. Couldn’t help myself. Sorry. Be ready for retaliation,” he says, pushing a hand through his hair and staring down at the body before grabbing onto it and dragging it down the hallway, presumably to find a place to hide him.
We follow in silence, our eyes moving back and forth, waiting for someone to make an appearance.
Anyone.
But there is no one.
It’s silent. Eerily so.
“That was very cool,” Kit says. “I want one of those necklaces.”
Casey winks at him, twisting a door handle and making Jax grumble under his breath.
“I can get one for you,” Casey adds, making him blush. “I know a guy.”
It’s all infuriating.
They’re all missing the point. Completely unfocused. We have to find Bane. And now all we have is a half-dead bartender and no way to find who took my property.
“Focus,” I growl. “We need to figure out who took him.”
“If there’s anything I know about Bane, it’s that he can take care of himself,” Casey replies. He pulls the body a little farther down the hallway and looks for an unlocked door.
That makes something inside me snap. My vision narrows, my hands tingling. Before I realize what I’m doing, I have Casey up against the wall, a syringe against his neck, my face hovering just above his.
“He shouldn’t always have to take care of himself. He should be taken care of. And we failed him.”
The tip of the syringe is pressed against Casey’s skin, but he doesn’t look afraid. He’s more amused than anything.
“Right, I know. But my point was that we’ll find him and he’ll be okay. It’s Bane.”
“He’s fragile,” I murmur, and Casey nods, patting me on the forearm.
“Yeah, and so am I. I’d rather not die right now.”
I stare at him with derision.
“Look, I get it. You’re worried, but we’ll find him. He’s here. You know that much.”
I step away from him, letting him free, slipping the syringe back into my pocket.
