Page 102 of Where Angels Fall

“Yes,” he continues, eyes locked on mine. “I don’t negotiate with extortionists. Especially not one’s trying to manipulate me through emotional theatrics.”

Emotional theatrics.

I step closer, boots squeaking faintly against the polished floor.

“She is your daughter,” I bite out, pressing the gun hard against his forehead. The metal leaves a pale indentation on his skin. “Not a liability. Not a bad investment. Your fucking blood.”

Howard’s breathing turns shallow, but his eyes don’t leave mine. They’re cold and calculating, even in the face of death.

“Ring him,” I bite out. If he doesn’t have the location, he at least has a number. Which is more than I have. “On speaker. Now.”

Surprisingly, he does. He pulls a phone out of his pocket slowly, redialling the last called number. All I can hear is my wild breaths as the ringtone trills through the speaker, desperation clogging my nerves.

“Howard,” Zeke croons through the speaker, and my teeth grit together. “Come to a decision, have we?”

“Hello, Zeke,” I cut in. My voice is raw from screaming, but I don’t care. “Where the fuck is my angel?”

A sick, cruel laugh huffs out of him, one that I recognise all too well.

“Your angel? Who would have thought a monster like you could be so sentimental?” The word monster doesn’t cut the way it usually does.

With the gun still pressed against Howard’s face, I repeat myself. “Where the fuck is she?”

There’s a brief pause on the line.

“Ash,” he says finally, faux pity lacing his words. “You sound... upset.”

I press the barrel harder into Howard’s forehead until his breath catches, his blood pooling around my boots from his knee.

“If she’s dead,” I say quietly, each word carved out of something vicious, “I’m going to make Howard watch me peel his wife apart before I start on him. And then you’ll never get your precious money, which I assume is the reason she’s there.”

Evelyn lets out a strangled sob as Howard goes rigid beneath the gun.

Zeke laughs again, humming thoughtfully. “That... amongst other things.”

My mum. Revenge for her death. I almost forgot in the whirlwind of this day that Zeke was in love with my mum.

My stomach drops when it hits me that Zeke wants me to feel what he felt when my mum died. The thought brings on a despair like I’ve never felt.

“You know what I want,” Zeke continues his voice turning lazy. “Give me the drive. I’ll give you little Miss Dally. If she’s even still alive... who knows at this point. She looked pretty rough last I saw.”

The room spins.

“I couldn’t care less about the drive,” I snarl. “You can have it. I’ll hand-deliver it myself. Just...” my voice cracks, weakness bleeding through me. “Just give her back,” I plead.

I need her back. I need her.

Silence passes, then Zeke exhales a sound that almost resembles approval.

“You say that now,” he muses. “But men like you are... unpredictable.”

“I don’t care,” I bite out. “Name it. Money. Weapons. The drive. Me. I’m the one you really want to hurt, so hurt me!”

I’m not even bothering to hide my desperation. Because I am. I’m fucking desperate. Every second counts, and I’m wasting it in the presence of this vermin.

Howard makes a small, scoffing sound through gritted teeth, but it comes out more like a whimper. Blood loss is already stealing colour from his face.

Zeke’s voice lowers, sharpening. “Don’t mistake me,” he says. “You try anything and she’s already dead.”