“If they answer, Carter can track the location. So, I say go for it.” Zeke shrugs, and I immediately dial the number. All of the hope that started to build in my chest plummets when it doesn’t even ring. It only beeps three times before saying, “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
I shake my head at John, silently telling him that it’s no good. We probably should’ve expected this to be harder than finding a lead so soon, but I couldn’t help but get excited. I just want Damien back home with me, where he belongs. John obviously feels the same disappointment as well, because he just starts to pace the floor.
“What else do you know?” Zeke asks Marco.
“Nothing, I swear. I haven’t heard from them since.”
I walk up to Marco, and even though Zeke gives me a warning glare, I ignore it.
“If they contact you for anything else, you better let us know,” I threaten him.
“Look, lady. I take demands from no one. Not even someone as pretty as—”
I grip the knife handle in my hand and pull back, forcing the blade to split his skin even further. He screams and yells, but Zeke holds him down so he doesn’t have a chance to lash out at me.
“I’m not sure I made myself as clear as I needed to.” I look around the room and spot a hammer on the opposite side, layingby what looks like a half-assembled crate. The thoughts running through my head almost make me sick, but I steel my spine and move to pick it up. “They have my husband, who also happens to be John’s son.” I grab the handle in my hand before turning and walking back. “And when I say we’ll do anything to get him back, I mean it.” I swallow harshly and raise the hammer, then bring it down forcefully—crushing Marco’s fingertips.
He screams once again. The noise rings out through the room, but I stand tall. There’s a good chance that this won’t get us anywhere. Hell, there’s still a chance that someone else has Damien, but I trust John. If he’s so sure that they have him, then I’m going to take his word for it. Marco may not be of any use to us right now, but there’s always a chance they’ll contact him again, and then we’ll be ready.
Damien would do anything to get back to us. I know he’s putting up a good fight. Even if he isn’t able to escape whatever situation he’s in, they might need more to contain him. I lean down and put my face within his sight.
“So, again. If they contact you for anything else, what are you going to do?” I ask indifferently.
“Let you know! I’ll let you know!” he cries out. I stand back up as my phone chimes with a text, and I look down at it to read the message from Carter.
Got another possible lead. When are you guys heading back?
Hope tries to bloom in my chest, but I don’t allow it to this time. Until I know exactly what kind of ‘lead’ this is, I’m not going to count on it.
We’re heading back now.
After I text him back, I look up to John, who’s now looking at the wall like it’s speaking to him. His eyes are locked on the dirty plaster, and I’m partially afraid he’s going to try and barrel through it.
“Can we go home now?” I ask him softly, knowing that will affect him more than my angry tone. It takes him a moment to process my words. I almost think he didn’t hear me, but eventually, he seems to snap back to reality. He looks over at me and nods before stomping over to Marco and removing the knife from his hand.
“Let’s get you home,” John says, and walks over to me before gesturing towards the door. I nudge my head, telling Zeke that it’s time to go. It almost makes me laugh with the way he rolls his eyes, but I keep it to myself. He steps out from behind Marco and writes something on the same card as the old number.
“Just in case there was any confusion.” Zeke flicks the card in Marco’s face, then he turns around to walk out with us.
Chapter 21
Damien
The Next Day
‘I Will Not Bow’ – Breaking Benjamin
A fierce slap across my face jolts me awake, and before I can register what’s happening, my arms are being pulled above my head. I yell out as my joints roll with so much friction, I think they might snap. My arms have been behind my back for the majority of a week now, from what Victoria said, and now the sudden movement is excruciating. It gets even worse as I’m lifted off the chair, and my body stretches out like it was last night. Except then, I was lying across and strapped to a table. I’m free-hanging now.
I can’t tell if I’m still dizzy from the multiple shocks, the drugs, or if they’re actually swinging me with whatever is holdingme above ground. From the feeling of cold metal along my fingertips, I’m assuming it’s a chain. There’s a slight chill to my body, almost as if the blood is trying to rush to the places I need it most, and the rush makes my head feel even more weightless.
“You look a little tired,feccia. Even after all of the rest I’ve let you have.”
I huff and finally lift my head to see that vile bitch staring up at me. DeLuca looks as frigid as ever, and her sharp features only make her look more villainous. I’m almost convinced that half of her face is plastic. Her high cheek bones are much too young for her face.
“How kind of you…” I force out.
“And I’m about to be even nicer. You poor thing, you’re disgusting. All of that sweat is caked onto your skin. I believe it’s time for your shower,” DeLuca taunts. I glance over at Victoria, and she’s back to that void look, like all of the fire I saw in her eyes wasn’t real. IsawHenry. He was as real as he was the day he died. Did I imagine our interaction, too? I can’t be sure, but I won’t be able to figure it out right now anyway.
