chapter 20
i t’s the second time this week that I find myself dragging my feet as I approach my apartment door. The hallway seems never ending. Exhaustion bogs me down and the worst part is that I can’t tell if it’s physical or mental.
Fuck this, at this point it’s probably spiritual.
My mind still hasn’t fully realigned itself with my new reality. One in which Drew isn’t my enemy. He isn’t the first—the only—love of my life that broke me, the boy that betrayed me in one of the most heinous ways possible.
He isn’t the reason I ran and ended up on a path that truly destroyed me.
No, that one’s all me, and eventually I’ll have to deal with that. Not right now, not with everything else eating away at me.
And to finally learn what my father invented? Something two-to-three decades ahead of its time? To know that the very thing now taking the AI market by storm was originally thought up by my father and that his name was never given the credit . . .
Andrew promised to fix that before we left the office, but it’s another thing I don’t want to think about.
You don’t survive years of constant abuse without learning how to compartmentalize to a certain extent.
I still can’t believe Drew’s innocent. Even crazier? That I believe it this thoroughly, without having to corroborate his story by checking the old text logs. Maybe one day I will, yet my gut is screaming it’s true. That he lied simply to bring them down.
Where the fuck was my gut all those years I stayed away from him though?
Bullshit. It was there the whole time, a bitter, twisted yearning that demanded I reach out to him time and time again. He could’ve saved me from it sooner. Another thought shoved to the deepest crevices of my mind.
The most bitter truth of life? There’s no going back in time. There’re no do overs. All I have is that he’s here now to help save my mom and I.
As much as I’m here to help save him.
The man’s killed twice for me already, got involved with an agent that’s codenamed Shell and is so deep in the Russian mafia that his cover seems to be absolute.
Hell, it must be if he can afford to involve civilians in his work and not get caught.
Shell wants us to help him now. What that entails we won’t know until the time comes that our assistance is truly needed. He left a line of communication open for us.
Turning him down isn’t an option. Not when he has the power to also help us with Menahan.
Dizzy, I unlock the door. It isn’t until it’s halfway open that I hear all the noises inside. My adrenaline levels are already through the roof. It’s no wonder my heart stops before kicking back to life with a fury that leaves me even more lightheaded.
Flinging the door open, I prepare myself for the worst—
A group of men are moving back and forth within my loft, busy packing boxes and wrapping up certain pieces of furniture.
“What the fuck?” At my shocked cry, they freeze as one, turning in my direction. No one says a thing. Actually, they seem just as surprised to see me standing here as I am to find them. “What on Earth is going on here?”
“I hired them to come pack some of your stuff.”
Jumping almost five feet in the air at the sound of Andrew’s voice, I whirl around to find him walking down the hall towards me. “Excuse me?”
He stops before me and leans down to nuzzle my cheek, inhaling me as if didn’t just spend an entire day with me. “Come baby, let’s go in while they finish up.” Grabbing my hand, he begins leading me inside.
“Finish what? Andrew, what is this? What do you mean they’re packing up my stuff?” I ramble as we step into the loft.
He waves at the moving crew, signaling they can continue their job, and turns to face me by the open kitchen design. “Baby, you’re coming to stay with me.”
“Excuse me?” I repeat a second time, shaking my head in case this is all a stressed-induced hallucination. “You’re moving me in with you?” The incredulity in my tone can’t be denied.
Fuck. Can anyone blame me?
Drew smiles, but it’s a small, tired smile, and my heart squeezes at the fact that he must feel as drained as I do. “Baby, it’s safer,” he mumbles. “All around, it’s just the best option.”
“Andrew, this is my first place since . . . since . . .” I can’t bring myself to finish, but I don’t have to. I can see he gets where I’m going with it. This is my first place ever and it was my first taste of freedom since I got away from Stephen.
I’ve only lived here for a little over two weeks, for fuck’s sake!
Sighing, Drew looks around the loft with those golden eyes I missed so much, and once again my heart squeezes painfully. “I get that, Lexi. I do. It’s just that . . . okay, well”—he pauses, running a hand down the stubble coating his jaw—“maybe we can do a fifty-fifty kind of thing, where half the week you stay with me and half the week I stay here. Would that work?”
I still love him. I’m still so. Fucking. In. Love. With. Him. His willingness to compromise on such a thing, to leave that mansion within that skyscraper just for me . . . ugh, suddenly denying him doesn’t seem an option and I open my mouth to tell him I agree to staying at his place—
The first rumble is almost imperceptible. If it wasn’t for how everyone stops what they’re doing, looking around for the source of it, I would believe I imagined it.
Above our heads, the crystals of the chandelier clash against each other, unleashing a light tinkling sound.
Drew’s hand tightens along mine, jerking me into his protective hold, even as his stare bounces along the city outside the wall of windows, trying to pinpoint—
The second rumble is an earthquake, a shifting that makes the entire floor vibrate.
“Drew, what’s going on?” I clutch his blazer, thoughts racing.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer me.
What sounds like a sonic boom rips through the air. Outside the windows, the skyscraper across the street can be seen shaking on its foundations, even as all the other buildings around it remain stable.
Another shake, a deafening groaning sound, followed by the screams of thousands . . .
My brain threatening to cave in on itself, I can only watch as the building suddenly begins collapsing into itself, the horrified screams of the residents echoing behind the sound of imploding concrete and steel.
chapter 21
i t’s been a year since I escaped.
Since I ran away.
Or has it been a year-in-a-half? Does it matter? One of the many questions swirling through my head as I sit on this park bench. Most important of them all? “What the hell am I doing here?” I whisper to myself, pulling the collar of my coat up against the wind.
Asking myself that question aloud is a mistake. It triggers an avalanche of analyzations, self-awareness kicking in to provide the answer. One I’m not ready to face.
It’s been a tough year. An understatement considering I survived my father committing suicide. I remember that shattered my world, it did, but what happened last summer . . . Shaking my head, I refuse to dive too deep into the memory. If I do, then I’ll get stuck thinking about him and . . .
I’m already thinking about him. He’s all I think about.
Moron. He used you, for an even more petty reason than his father used yours. Let him go already! Why can’t I? Why is he still inside me? Not that he ever was and thank God for that. Imagine if I had given him my virginity that night? It would’ve been that moment playing on the screen in front of the whole twelfth-grade. My eyes water at the thought. I tell myself it’s because of the bite in the air, but I’m full of shit and I know it.
I’m damaged. Probably more damaged than I’m allowing myself to admit. What else could be to blame for the fact that I’ve spent the last year in isolation before starting school? It’s been just my mom and I, living under our purchased aliases.
Aliases purchased with Drevlow money.
The thought makes my throat constrict with bile.
Necessity is the mother of invention, as they say, and what was I going to do? Taking that monster’s money, after what his fucking son did to me, was the last thing I wanted to do. But it was our chance, my mom and I. Combined with the money our father left us after selling off his invention to Ronald Drevlow, it afforded us a new start in life.
One far, far away from Drevlow scum and everything they stand for.
Yet even after starting school, I’ve found it too difficult to make new friends. People try of course, guys especially, but I’m just . . . so instead you agree to meet one of them?
The stupidity of this is unprecedented for me, even after trusting Andrew Drevlow again for a single night of my life.
Okay, fine. It was weeks. Months, actually. We snuck out to meet each other at that gym every goddamned night for at least three months. And because I never bothered to investigate his AP computer science grades—he was passing that fucking class in the top percentile—I never knew it was all part of an elaborate, thought-out scheme to gain my trust.
Every moment, every word, every look, all of it leading up to my eighteenth birthday.
The night he’d seduce me as his friends recorded him.
Now, here I fucking am, sitting by myself in a park, waiting to meet up with one of them.
Stephen.
I don’t know how he found me. When I got that message from him yesterday, everything went into a highspeed blur of panic. He said the one thing guaranteed to wreck me, send me into survival mode.
The one thing I’ve known, felt in my cells, for the better part of a year.
Andrew Drevlow isn’t done with me. He’s actively seeking me out. For whatever reason . . . oh screw that. I know the reason. The boy I once knew, loved since I was a freaking kid, was successfully corrupted by his father over time, the evil in his genetic code activated to its full potential.
The guy I thought was falling for me, the sweet one that looked at me as if I was his world, was nothing but a lie. In his place was a twisted psychopath, one fully adept at faking a universe-worth of emotion to secure his prey. Sure, his arousal for me was genuine—I mean, who could fake that?—but it didn’t mean shit.
That manwhore had slept his way through half the school by the time he got to me.
By the time I was stupid enough to give into him.
The son of the man that killed my father.
I don’t care that Dad put that gun to his own head and pulled the trigger. Ronald Drevlow killed him. He’ll always, always be responsible in my heart.
Stephen claims innocence. Claims he has proof. Claims a fuckton of shit that I’m not capable of believing.
However, here I sit on a bench in Crestview Park, blocks away from my school U of I, where I’m attending under an alias.
Lot of good that it did me. Stephen was able to find me. It’s only a matter of time before Andrew does as well. He’s decided I need to suffer, just like his father once did with mine, and only extra money and power will help me escape his reach. And you think Stephen will be the one to give that to you? One of the people who teamed up to record that video?
Accept, he claims to have proof of his innocence. Claims it was mostly a scheme thought up by Andrew to appease his girlfriend Kaylee.
A fissure spreads across the corroded surface of my heart.
What the fuck am I thinking? I can’t trust any of them. Can’t even be near them. I’ll find another way to avoid Andrew. I must.
Heart pounding, I shoot to my feet.
“Lexi!”
That deep voice reaches me, freezing me in place. The tips of my fingers go cold and it has nothing to do with the weather. Turning, I catch sight of a tall man heading my way, his black peacoat cut to perfection. Black hair ruffles in the wind and light brown eyes crinkle at the corners as his smiles at me.
“Holy shit, Lexi,” Stephen breathes, coming closer, his hands in his pockets. His eyes are twinkling with genuine happiness at the sight of me. “There you are. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again.”
chapter 21
i ’m being pulled.
Dragged.
Screams sound everywhere. In front of me, a door is slammed open. The same tight grip leading me yanks me past the open the door.
It’s the stairwell.
The screams are louder here, punctuated by the slap of feet along the concrete steps. People rushing.
So many people.
“Lexi, we need to take off those heels.”
Why does he sound so far?
A tall form kneels at my feet. They’re shaking. Unsteady.
Actually, it’s my whole legs and my teeth start to chatter as the tremors spread.
“Brace yourself against the wall, baby. Please.”
Toffee eyes.
My toffee-colored eyes. The ones I love so much. He’ll take that from you, too. He will take everything. Look at how many he just hurt to send you that message.
It was received. It’s blaring through every cell.
Thousands are dead and it’s all because of me.
“Lexi! Hold on here.”
My hand is pressed to the wall. I do my best to obey, to aid Andrew, even as the deafening echo spreads in my mind. My right foot is lifted, the heel removed. The same process is repeated on the left.
The door behind me slams open, hitting me in the back, and a group of people rush in, pushing me into Andrew.
He catches me against him, yelling something at them, but I can’t make the words out.
They’re all screaming. Everyone is screaming.
The people inside that building screamed for their lives as it came down around them.
Because of me.
I’m being dragged again, my body on autopilot, somehow keeping up with Andrew as he runs down the steps. Again, the crush of bodies is too thick and I’m slammed into the railing next to me.
If I cry out, I don’t hear it. I barely hear anything. Just the screams.
I’ll never forget them.
My body goes weightless as I’m lifted off my feet. What I can see of the world is tilted upside down and it takes me a few to realize I’m over Andrew’s shoulder.
He’s using his huge mass, the muscular bulk of his body, to practically shove people out of the way. So large, strong.
Alive.
He’s going to kill him eventually. Just like he’s killing your mom. Like he killed all those innocent people. Sobs break free, a torrent of tears. Andrew must hear them, because he cups the back of my thigh soothingly, even while pushing to get down to ground level faster.
Twenty-two floors.
We’re trying to make it down twenty-two floors as hundreds of residents converge on the stairwell in a panic. Every landing we stop at brings a new crush as the doorway to each floor is forced open.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Drew throwing elbows to move people out of the way.
Someone tries to force past us, their own elbows slamming into my head. I don’t make sound to alert Andrew what happened, but I don’t know if I do it for his sake or simply because I’m too far gone to truly react to what’s happening.
Eventually, the crowd slows to a standstill, but the shouts show no sign of abating. The commotion is deafening, bodies pressing into my back and head, my face squished against Andrew. He shifts, obviously aware and trying to ease me off his shoulder.
At a snail’s pace, the crush moves, and even in my daze I know it’s because we’re close to the ground floor and everyone’s trying to push their way out the last doorway.
I did this. I caused this. There’s no imagining what awaits us outside at street level. All I’m aware of is the overwhelming sense of guilt. Dead. Men. Women. Kids. How many died in that building? Beneath it as it collapsed?
There’s a final scramble before Drew picks up speed, propelling us through the exit. The mayhem is even worse on the first floor and I see the night
doorman standing by the door leading to the loading dock, frantically calling for everyone to exit in that direction.
When Drew whirls around and I happen to lift my head, I see why.
The world outside the cracked full-length windows at the front of the building is gone.
Just gone.
Only a thick, white fog remains, and beyond it, I can barely make out the beginnings of a tower.
A tower of debris.
Andrew runs in the direction of the back entrance. Within seconds we’re outside, where the air back here is almost as white as the air on the other side. He flips me over his shoulder and places me on my feet before him, hands cupping my cheeks.
It isn’t until he touches me that I realize how drenched they are, the tears leaking nonstop out of them.
“Are you okay?” His frenzied expression reminds me of last night when we killed Asad and he was desperate to get me to the hospital.
Oh God. That was just last night and now an entire skyscraper was brought down just in front of my building.
“Lexi!” Drew tugs me closer.
“It’s—it’s—” My voice breaks, teeth chattering again. “It’s my fault, Drew. It’s my fucking fault!”
“Lexi, listen to me—”
“No, you listen. It was Stephen. I know how he did it. I fucking helped him invent the technology capable of it,” I sob, chest heaving as the weight of what just happened begins to fully set in.
Drew wraps his arms around me, holding my face against his chest as people continue running past us, most of them desperate to escape in the opposite direction from the devastation. “Shhh. I know Lexi. I know which invention of his you’re talking about. But don’t mention it aloud again. I’m getting you home, away from here.”
chapter 23
Mortal Siege Page 8
