“Can you tell me your name?” the woman asks in a soft, soothing voice. Her red lips bring back a flash of memory, like this is not the first time she's asked me this question.
“It's Devon,” I snap, narrowing my own eyes at her.
“Devon,” my uncle says in warning. He looks at her. “I think he's fine, Aileen. Thank you.”
She nods again, then takes out a pill bottle from her pocket, and puts it on the small table next to the bed. She points at her shoulder and smiles kindly, saying, “For the pain.” Then she turns around and leaves the room.
Frank waits until she's out before speaking. “Stupid kids. You could have died out there in the cold, freezing to death. If we didn’t find you in time—” He shakes his head condescendingly as he says it. As far as words of comfort go, it’s not much. “That was an incredibly stupid thing to do, Devon.”
He's telling me.
“She tried to kill me,” I say in disbelief. What surprises me is I'm not angry. Rationally, I shouldn't have expected anything less from her. Her whole family is in danger. If the tables were turned, I'd probably have done the same.
“You'd be dead,” Keith Moore says, standing at the door.
I jerk at the sound of his voice, another shot of pain racing through my arm, but it’s seeing him that makes me furious. What the fuck? I look at my uncle, and he has the decency to look apologetic. I've never felt so betrayed in my entire life, and this is hours after the woman I love shot me without a second thought.
“What the hell is going on?” I'd yell but I don't have it in me, so I settle for enunciating each word slowly.
“My daughter is a great shot,” Keith says. “If she wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Now, cut the crap and tell me where she is.”
“I—” I pause. Why is he asking me? She would have gone home, to warn them. Suddenly, I remember. She called Dom, and then a car came and . . . that's where my memory cuts off.
You're going to be okay. Those are the last words I remember.
“She called Dom.”
“He's gone, too. We found his car in a ditch just outside of town,” Keith says, coming closer to stand by my uncle.
He’s gone, too? I look between the two of them, realizing neither explained what exactly all of this is. “What the fuck is going on?”
“It can wait, Devon,” Frank answers, and for the first time since I woke up he sounds like the Frank I know.
It can't fucking wait. I have my uncle and the murderer of my parents in the same room, obviously working together. “No, I'd rather you tell me now. Or am I supposed to just accept that he,” I spit the word out, making it sound like an insult, “is here, pretending like he didn't take my whole family away from me. From us!”
My uncle's face softens. “I know it seems confusing, but I need you to trust me. Have I ever failed you before?”
“Ever? You’ve fucking failed me my whole life.” I expect to regret the words, but I don't. All he ever did was antagonize me, from the first day we were all that was left of our family. I was one of his men, an employee. I was never his nephew.
He squares his shoulders and crosses his arms. I feel so fucking small in this bed with him looming over me like this. He looks at Keith who nods—he fucking nods, as if he's giving permission—at him, making me even more furious.
“I was protecting you.”
He holds my gaze, and the sincerity in his eyes catches me off guard. But protecting me from what? I open my mouth to ask him, but Keith interrupts me.
“Okay, we can talk about all of this later. There are things you need to know, Devon, but for now, we need to know everything you remember about the other night.”
The other night? “How long was I out for?”
“Two days,” my uncle says.
Two days. I'm not an idiot. I've figured it out by now that Leighton didn't make it back. And I've been out for two fucking days while she's God knows where. But I remember nothing. I shake my head to clear it, but it doesn't help. It only makes the pounding headache worse. My hand flies to my eyes, pressing them.
“She didn't make it back, did she?” I don't know why I ask it, I guess I just need to hear it confirmed, or maybe they will tell me I'm wrong.
“No.” The word coming from Keith is icy. I can't even look at him because it's all my fucking fault, so I keep my eyes covered with my hand.
“And Dom?”
“We assume they took him, as well. Which might be a good thing, because he can at least try and protect her, unless . . . ” He lets the sentence hang there, and for that I'm grateful. If she's all alone with someone who wants to harm her—
I laugh bitterly at the irony of this whole thing. All I kept thinking was how she will try and find a way out of that room in our house, but now I'm worried. Now I'm praying she finds a way to escape, wherever she is, or that she at least holds on until I find her.
Because I will find her, if it's the last thing I do.
LEIGHTON
The silence in the room makes my mind wander to Devon, to the look on his face when I shot him. I’m a horrible person, I know, I’ve kept telling myself that for the last two days. But I couldn’t sit there and let my family die. I’m not that selfish, and I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if that had happened. I would have loved nothing more than to run away with Devon, and spend the rest of our lives together, but with the death of my family on my conscience? When I could have stopped it? I would have grown to hate and resent him.
In the end, all it comes down to is that Devon and I just weren’t meant to be. People don’t always get what they want, but they still move forward, move on with their life. I know I’ll only be living a half-life without Devon, without my heart, but it was the only way.
This is the only way. I hope he’s somewhere safe, and not in too much pain. I know that shot wouldn’t have severely wounded or killed him. Hopefully he’s in hospital, recuperating.
I don’t know what Dom and Stevie have up their sleeve, but I need to figure that out, and soon. Stevie isn’t loyal to Devon, and that pisses me off. Devon deserves better, and he needs to know what’s going on in his own ranks. That he can’t trust anyone.
“I need to pee,” I tell George. I haven’t seen Dom at all since he left me here with them, and so far they’ve listened to him, taking shifts to watch over me, bringing me food and water. It’s usually George that I ask to go to the bathroom. Even knowing he’s a rat, for some reason I trust he’s not going to do anything to me.
The looks Danny throws my way every now and again are disgusting. And right now, it’s just the two of them here.
To my horror, Danny says, “I’ll take her.” The intent in his voice is more than obvious.
I shake my head violently. “No, George, you can’t let him do this.”
Danny grasps for the gun at his waist. “I’ll take her.”
George looks at me, swallowing hard, and then he looks away. Fucking low piece of shit. He has known me my whole life.
I steel myself as Danny unlocks the handcuff holding me to the wall, and I get up from the chair, shoulders squared, rubbing my painful wrist with the other hand. I give George one final look of betrayal, and then Danny pushes me toward the door and out of the room, a gun digging into my back.
We walk in tense silence toward the small stuffy bathroom with only one stall, no windows. My head is reeling, trying to figure out how to get out of this. I can’t let him do this to me. I look around the small bathroom, my eyes finding nothing that can help me.
I open the door to the stall and I’m about to close it when he says, “No. Leave it open.”
I slam it shut and turn the lock quickly. His ominous laughter booms through the room as I make use of the toilet.