Looking in the mirror, I have to hide my sardonic laugh. My eyes are like raccoons, my eyeliner and mascara are streaking my cheeks, and the ruddy redness of my skin makes me look two seconds away from e-girl status.
I get my makeup remover and cleanser out, using one after another, cleaning my face until my skin looks irritated.
Removing my clothes, I decide to just jump in the shower, hoping that my panic from the memory led to some weird bodily reaction.
Once I’ve cleaned up, I wrap a towel around me. Looking at the ground, I notice a ton of discarded clothes. Boys, I swear.
Picking up the shirts first, I carry them to the hamper labeled “colored shirts” and then go for the undergarments, putting them in their own section. When I’m finally back for the pants, reaching for the ones I wore when Cass pushed me in the water—
Shit.
I’d forgotten all about having a phone, let alone when he pushed me in the water. Picking them up, I search the pockets for my phone and it’s surprisingly still there.
I wonder if I need to put it in rice… I’ve heard that works.
Laughing at the realization that it might be broken, amusement consumes me. Of course, the one time I’d want a phone and don’t really care or notice… Taking it to my charger, I plug it in.
While waiting, I dry off and get a new set of clothes on. After tying the laces on my Converse, I come back for my phone, turning it on.
Once it loads, I see a ton of missed messages and voicemails. All of them coming from a random number.
The first one makes my heart stutter.
The clock is ticking, Colton. Don’t want Noah to die, do we?
I hurry and open the voicemails, and the first one has me falling to my knees.
“I bet you recognize my voice, Colton. Here’s the thing, I’ve learned you aren’t kidnapped or dead. Which is so burdensome to me. The thing is, I have Noah. She’s such a sweet girl, we wouldn’t want her to die, would we?”
“Don’t listen to him, Colt! Stay away!” Noah yells as the voice pauses. I hear a bloodcurdling scream come from Noah a second later and start crying, unsure of what to do.
“Either you come to the coordinates I’ve sent to your phone in forty-eight hours, or I’ll start sending you her body party parts. See you soon, Colton.”
I don’t think; I unplug my phone and gather clothes, a duffel, and then search for Bridger’s bag. He had money, maybe it’s still there. Once I find his bag of money, I take two stacks, hoping it’s enough for whatever I’ll need. I also find a gun.
I’ve never used one before.
Closing my eyes to debate if I’ll need it, I take it anyway.
Sneaking out the east door, knowing it’ll take me to the front, I head toward one of the sedans. Earlier today when we’d gotten in the car with the driver, he popped the visor to retrieve the keys. Maybe it’ll still be there. It’s not like there’s anyone around.
By the time I make it to the front, I see both vehicles parked, plus several other black ones. Going to the one I’d driven here in specifically, I get inside, hoping I’d lucked out.
Inside, it still smells like my boys.
Fuck, my boys.
Cass. We’ve just been reunited. My heart pinches at that. But knowing I could possibly save our sister? I can’t not risk it.
She needs to be saved and I’m not even sure if I can trust our own dad. Once I’m far enough away, I’ll text Bridger. Besides Noah, he’s the only one programmed in my phone.
Pulling down the visor, I notice the key and do a little excited yip, start the car, and put the coordinates in my phone.
Please forgive me, I silently pray, hoping they don’t hate me for running.
Chapter Thirty
Bridger
I’d gone for Colt when she’d taken too long, but heard her retching and walked away, not wanting to invade.
It also propelled me to Mortem.
The pregnancy test.
We didn’t get one handled.
Anxiety slices through me as I make my way toward where he took the twins. There’s a room in this place that resembles an interrogation room and that’s where he’s placed them.
As soon as I enter the room, he glares at me.
“Busy,” he hisses, his eyes darkening with an edge I’ve only witnessed on two occasions. “Go away.”
“Colt was puking up her guts,” I mention and his eyes widen.
“We’ll get one of the guys to get her a test tomorrow. She’s under enough stress as it is.”
I nod, understanding, but something tells me I already know what’s wrong. She’s pregnant, she has to be.
Chicks puke normally, fuckface. My mind battles with my worry, causing a spasm inside me. Love led me here, this far, to her.
Whatever happens, happens.
“Now, go. Check on him for me.”
Him being Cassidy. He barely says his name, making it known he doesn’t even trust his own men. Offering him another nod, I leave.
I head directly to the kitchen, wondering if I’ll find any hard liquor there, anything, the need to stop my brain from thinking of every scenario. Opening random cabinets, they shut loudly, and my nerves peak. I’ve never felt this way. This overwhelming feeling of helpless.
Being out of control, not knowing the narrative, not being able to decipher what is what, it makes me feel insane.
“Dude, what’s your deal?” Lux questions after I’ve gone through half the cupboards, searching for some form of relaxation.
“He’s having a panic attack,” Ross rumbles. “Haven’t seen him have one since we were kids.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I hiss, feeling the itching of my skin irritate me to no end.
“Anyone have a joint?” Ten supplies. I’m not one for weed, not unless Colt’s giving it to me from her own hands. It’s a sensual game of give and take, and she’s always loved forcing me to take.
“Got one,” Jordan hollers. Of course he does, he’s always had a pension for it like Ross. He lights it up and hands it to me immediately.
“I don’t—”
“Inhale, you fuck. No need to psychoanalyze everything.”
I do, needing a distraction. Taking too big of an inhale, I cough, sputtering like a newbie.
“What has you this stressed?” Ten questions, his face, like usual, is filled with a deep sadness. I sigh, not knowing what to say and if I even want to.