“Of course I trust you,” I say. To prove it, I lift my drink and take a sip, welcoming the scalding taste.
She smiles sadly.
“I have so many things to tell you,” she says softly, and she drops her voice to a whisper. “But first, you need to know we aren’t alone.”
I nod. “I suspected as much. Who’s with you?”
She winces as if I struck her, then beckons me with a finger.
I lean in, and she whispers in my ear.
“Not with me, Mac. With my father. I love you, and I couldn’t betray you. Not now, not ever. I’m here because I can’t.”
Can’t? Had she been she planning on it? Is she?
“Man at six o’clock,” she whispers. “Don’t look. But when I give the signal, you’ll have to pull your weapon. Don’t worry, though. Everything will be alright. This is going to work out.”
I give her a quizzical look. I hate that she’s talking like this, as if she’s set this into motion and knows she won’t be saved.
“Anyone else?” I ask. I want to be prepared to shoot if anyone comes after her.
She nods quietly. “Man in white by the exit. Also my father’s.”
I nod slowly. She draws in a deep breath.
“There’s only one way to escape him,” she says quietly. With a trembling hand, she lifts her own glass. “Mac, take my phone, will you?”
I look at her curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Put the camera on. Take a picture when I drink this, will you?”
“What?”
She lifts the drink to her lips and begins to sip, her eyes closed, a look of determination on her face as if she’s facing an executioner. And it all dawns on me with vivid clarity.
Her father’s text is still on the screen.
I read it too late.
She sips the drink while I read the message.
Send me a picture when he drinks it.
In one fluid motion, I knock the glass out of her hand, but she’s already emptied it. It falls to the ground and shatters into pieces. People scream around us, and she looks at me with wide eyes.
“What have you done, Mac?” she whispers, white as a ghost. “What have you done?”
She falls off her stool, and I catch her before she lands.
“I couldn’t do it. I never planned on it,” she says, as her eyes close.
“Bryn! God, Bryn!” I look around me, frantic. “Get a doctor! Someone get a fucking doctor!Obtenez un docteur!”
“Mac!”
I draw my weapon just as one of her father’s men reaches for me, but he doesn’t come for me. He goes straight for her, his pistol loaded and pointed at her head. I tackle him, rolling him onto the floor as I deck him. I hit him again, and again. Someone’s on me, trying to pull me off him.
He rolls with me, reaching for her, and I know he’s bent on killing her. He’s been given orders, I can fucking tell he has. I hit him again, and again, until his gun falls to the floor, when another one of Aitkens’ men pulls a gun on Bryn.
