by Sky Winters
“Fucking kid was driving me crazy,” said Brody, his eyes on the intersection ahead.
“What are you going to do to me?” asked Olivia, her voice weak and fearful.
“Heh, do to you?” asked Brody. “Why don’t we get back home first? Then I’ll be more than happy to explain what’s going to happen with you and I.”
They made their way through the grids of the city, eventually arriving at the Williamsburg tower where they lived. Once parked, Brody pulled Olivia out of the car with a jerk, as if taking every opportunity to let her know who was in charge.
Olivia took Brody out and held him close. Her stomach tightened with fear as she considered the life this boy had in store for him with a father like Brody.
And Ian… she thought, her last image of Ian being him splayed out on the back lawn, a bullet wound in his inner thigh.
She was furious at him for what he’d said, but somehow, she could sense that he still cared for her, despite his words. He may’ve felt hesitancy about Noah, but she knew his feelings were there. And she had no idea whether or not he still lived. She didn’t know exactly what the effects of silver bullets were on shifters, but if Ian’s hesitation at the fact when it was made known was any indication, it couldn’t be good.
They made their way up to the penthouse, the silver-walled elevator rising silently. Soon, the doors opened with a chime, revealing the vast, open space of the luxury apartment where Brody and Olivia lived.
“Home sweet home,” said Brody, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it onto a nearby barstool. “Feels good to be back in civilization; don’t know how anyone can stand living out there in the sticks.”
Olivia looked around the apartment, the stark décor, the black and white furniture, and the clean lines making her miss the cozy warmth of the home where Ian and she stayed. Looking out onto the Manhattan skyline, she didn’t feel the awe that the city usually inspired. Instead, she wished she was looking out onto the green expanse of the backyard of the house, the mountains rising in the distance rather than the skyscrapers she looked upon.
“Feel good to be back?” asked Brody.
Olivia said nothing, instead turning her attention to Noah, whose face was reddening by the second.
“Now, where’s my little man?” asked Brody, approaching Noah.
He kneeled down to the car seat and scooped up the baby in the arms.
“What a little slugger,” he said, wiggling his finger in front of Noah’s face. “We’ll have to talk about a name sometime soon.”
“He already has a name,” said Olivia.
“’Noah’?” asked Brody. “No way. You never consulted me about that, so as far as I’m concerned, that isn’t his name. He needs something tough, like Rick, or Jack.”
Olivia again said nothing, instead choosing to walk to the bar and pour herself a small glass of vodka. She tossed back the drink in a quick swig. Olivia wasn’t usually the drinking type, but right now, she knew she needed to feel numb.
“Make me one of those, will ya?” said Brody, still playing with the baby.
But before Olivia could respond in the affirmative or negative, Noah unleashed the tears that Olivia could sense had been building in him ever since coming home.
“Hey? What’s the deal, kid?” said Brody, now holding Noah at arm’s length. “Jeez, calm down.”
Brody brought Noah over to Olivia, an annoyed look on his face as he held the baby out.
“You take him,” he said. “I don’t feel like dealing with this.”
Olivia set her glass down on the long white rectangle of the bar top next to her. She took Noah in her arms and began rocking him, singing to him softly, trying to put the child at ease as best she could. She wasn’t surprised in the least that Brody had no interest in being tender with the boy; she wondered at times if Brody could even feel emotions beyond anger and envy.
Soon, Noah calmed down, the volume of his cries diminishing by the second.
Olivia then turned to Brody, looking into his eyes with a cold, steely stare.
“What now, then?” asked Olivia.
“What now?” responded Brody, his mouth in a cocky sneer. “Why, we’re gonna get married, of course!”
“What?” asked Olivia, her blood running cold.
“You heard me,” said Brody, taking the bottle of vodka from the bar with a swipe and pouring himself a tall glass. “That’s what the plan was before you left, remember?”
“That was before you…did what you did!” said Olivia.
Brody dismissed this statement with a swipe of his hand. “That’s all in the past. I knew I was gonna find you sooner or later. I had that compound of yours staked out day and night after my first encounter with those…fucking freaks. And when I saw you and your little bear boyfriend take off for Vermont, it was just a matter of following you and planning my next move. And I’m not taking the same risk again; now that you’re back, we’re going to make this whole thing official. That way we’re bound together, just like it should be. And you’ll never be able to take my son from me again.”
Olivia shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Between the vodka and what Brody was saying, she was suddenly feeling very unsteady on her feet.
“So, what, now we have to plan a wedding together?” she asked.
“Plan?” asked Brody, his mouth spreading into a wide, wicked smile, his eyes alight with something that bordered on mania. “No planning, baby. I did all that for us. In fact, you won’t even have to wait. The wedding’s tonight.”
Olivia gasped, grabbing Noah and running to the bedroom, locking the door behind her. Not knowing what else to do, she walked to the door leading to the balcony, opened it and stepped out. The city sprawling out before her, she held Noah tight. She looked down to the street below, guessing that the drop had to be at least five-hundred feet.
I could end it all right now, she thought, the breeze tossing her hair about her face. Take Noah with me, end our troubles for good.
But as quickly as the thoughts of suicide entered her mind, she pushed them out. Olivia knew that she had to go on. She closed her eyes, the image of Ian appearing clear in her mind’s eye. She knew that he was her only hope, but that he had no way to find her.
Ian, she thought, her words forming in her mind and on her lips like a prayer. Help me. I don’t know where you are, but please, find me. Save me.
She knew that she was speaking to no one, the thoughts forming in her mind and dissipating. But it was all she could do. Opening her eyes, the skyline of Manhattan unblurring, she sighed. Turning back towards the home that was now her prison, she stepped back into the bedroom, shutting the balcony door behind her.
CHAPTER 13
Ian tore down the highway leading to New York City, driving well over the speed limit. New York glowed in the distance like a soft dome that reached higher and higher into the sky with each passing moment. His eyes were fixed ahead, and he wasn’t sure where, exactly, he was driving towards. He knew that Olivia had mentioned Brooklyn in passing, and though that didn’t narrow things down much, it was at least a place to start.
Taller and taller the skyscrapers of the city stretched into the night sky, the spires of the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building twinkling against the inky black. Soon, he was in Brooklyn, near the great stone form of the Brooklyn Bridge. He parked, getting out and taking a seat on the hood of his car, his eyes on the city beyond.
He didn’t know where else to go. Finding a single woman in a city of millions would be an impossible task, finding a needle in a stack of needles. For lack of any other course of action, Ian closed his eyes, letting the cool of the evening air blow gently over him. Minutes passed, no sounds audible but the traffic of the city and the rough sloshing of the waves of the river against the shore.
Ian sat in silence in this matter for a long while. And it was there that the voice whispered through his mind like the call of a ghost.
“Ian,” it said, the voice brea
thy, thin, and pleading.
“Help me. I don’t know where you are, but please, find me. Save me”
Ian snapped to attention, listening to the call of the voice, hoping that it would say something, anything, else. But that was all. The voice dissipated like vapor trails against the sky. He concentrated harder on what he heard, letting the memory of the voice echo in his mind. And the more he concentrated, the more he could feel, somehow, where the voice was located. It was like a tugging on his mind, pulling him in one direction. As he let it pull him where it may, he realized that it was directing him across the river, to Manhattan.
He jumped in his car and drove back onto the road, a sense of purpose and direction finally guiding him. Ian drove across the Brooklyn Bridge and into the city, the towers once faraway now looming large over him as he entered Lower Manhattan. At a traffic light, he closed his eyes once again and focused on the voice, hoping for more direction.
Again, he felt that same tug, now leading him to Midtown. The light turned green, and he whipped the car around the turn, the horns of the nearby traffic flaring with irritated honking. As he drove, he looked around him at the familiar sights of the city—the buildings that towered over him, the throngs of pedestrians that filled the sidewalks, the traffic that packed the streets—and felt a keen sense of familiarity, nostalgia even. This was the city where he’d lived for years, and now he was back. The circumstances of his return, however, he could’ve never dreamed.
He continued on, making his way up the length of the city. Soon the skyscrapers of Midtown were to his left and right, the impossibly tall towers that stood in front of Central Park shooting up into the sky like jagged glass daggers. And when he lay eyes on one in particular, an irregular-shaped building with an angled spire, the feeling within him grew stronger, more insistent. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Olivia was in that building.
Ian closed the distance to the tower, which was one of the glass-bodied luxury condominium buildings that had grown to dominate the skyline of New York in recent years. Once he arrived, he parked nearby and craned his neck up at the height of the building, which was dizzyingly tall, gray clouds swirling in the night sky above it.
The feeling inside of him was now like an alarm. He knew she was here; the feeling couldn’t mean anything else. And if she really was in there, she likely wasn’t alone. Ian walked towards the building, his strides long and purposeful. He knew that it all came down to his actions now, and that while he couldn’t say for sure what lay before him, if he wanted Olivia back, he knew he was going to have to fight.
CHAPTER 14
Olivia looked at her reflection in the mirror with a feeling just short of horror. She was dressed head-to-toe in white wedding finery, her bride’s dress long, flowing, and adorned with gaudy lace and patterning. It was low-cut, exposing cleavage. It was a dress so tacky and ostentatious that she knew it could only be one that Brody hand-picked.
Her hair was done up, and her make-up had been applied, her lips a glossy ruby red and her eyes outlined and shaded. Between the compulsory, coerced nature of the wedding, and the tacky planning that Brody had hastily cobbled together in the last week in anticipation of bringing Olivia back, it was as far away as she could imagine from the dream wedding she’d always wanted.
“Oh, you look gorgeous,” said one of the other gang lieutenant’s wives, part of the gaggle of women who had been fawning over Olivia over the last hour, helping her get ready.
“That’s no joke,” said another, a high-haired woman with a braying, Long Island accent. “Brody’s so lucky, he has no idea.”
“Don’t you think you look gorgeous, sweetheart?” asked one of the women.
“Yeah, gorgeous,” replied Olivia, barely able to muster false enthusiasm.
“There she is!” called out the booming voice of Brody from the doorway of the room where he stood in a glossy, black tuxedo.
“Brody!” said one of the women. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.”
“Yeah, even you should know that,” chimed in another.
“Hey!” said Brody, his unsteady voice signaling to Olivia that he was likely already drunk. “It’s my wedding, my wife, and my money. I can do whatever I want here, goddamnit.”
“Fine, Brody, do whatever you want,” said one of the women.
“I will! Starting with telling you girls to get the hell out of here!”
The women looked at Brody with unbelieving expressions, not sure if he was serious.
“You heard me!” he said, raising his voice. “Get the hell out!”
The women exchanged looks briefly before darting out of the room in a hectic line. Once they were gone, Brody’s expression turned lascivious and sinister.
“God, you look so fucking hot right now,” he said, sitting on the vanity across from Olivia. “What I wouldn’t do to you…Mmm.”
Olivia said nothing, hoping that by not engaging Brody he would leave her alone.
“Here’s the deal,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest. “The men on top have been on my ass about getting you back. They want to bump me up in the ranks, but this little stunt you pulled started getting them to think that I wasn’t ready for any more responsibility. But, now that you’re back, things can continue just as planned.
“So, you get out there and be the beautiful bride that I know you can be, and when all of this is over, we can, I don’t know, get started on some brothers and sisters for the kiddo.”
As he spoke, he leaned forward, placing his hand on Olivia’s thigh, moving slowly up along it, towards her hip. And as he drew closer, she could smell the astringent scent of vodka on his breath. Olivia had to fight off the urge to wince as Brody laid his hands on her, his mere touch now enough to send a shiver up her spine.
“I’m gonna send those broads back in here; they’ll get you finished up, then we can get this little show on the road. You just be ready. I want to see a big smile on that pretty face of yours when you’re out there, got it?”
A moment passed before Olivia spoke.
“Yeah, got it,” she said.
With that, Brody left. Seconds later, the women returned, setting upon her once again and finishing their work. As they made the last touches, the sound of an organ flowed into the room.
“That’s your cue!” said one of the women.
“Good luck!” said another.
With a sigh, Olivia rose. She cast an eye to the window looking out over the city. For a moment, the thought of leaping out of it crossed her mind, but she dismissed it as foolish—she could never leave Noah to Brody like that.
She exited the room and walked down the hallway, following the sound of the music. Suited men with serious faced lined the hallways, and Olivia wondered if they were there to make sure she didn’t try another getaway. Approaching the large set of wooden double doors, men on each side pulled them open.
Beyond the doors was the living room of one of the highest-up men in the Garbrizi crime family. It was a luxury condo in one of Midtown’s most expensive towers. The ceilings stretched up high, the rooms were expansive, and the floor-to-ceiling windows afforded a stunning view of the city. The style of the place was as gaudy as anything else the members of the gang had free reign to decorate. Dozens of men and women were seated in two sections, each on one side of the long red rug that led to the ornate, flower-adorned altar. Brody stood there waiting; his eyes, along with all of those in the room, were on Olivia.
She didn’t have any other choice. As the wedding march played, Olivia took the arm of Brody’s boss, a fat, balding man in a too-small suit. He flashed her a hungry glance before stepping with her down the aisle. Once she reached the end, the music ceased, and the priest began.
The words of the ceremony were a blur. Olivia looked over Brody’s shoulder during, her eyes on the skyline beyond. Taking a quick look at the dozens in attendance, she saw that Noah was on the lap of one of the floozy gir
lfriends of one of the gang members, happily bouncing up and down on her knee. Olivia wanted nothing more than to snatch her son from this woman’s hands and rush out of the door. But she knew it was impossible.
Then, the priest came to the end of the ceremony.
“Should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
The words hung in the air. Olivia knew that they represented her only hope for somehow escaping this wedding, if someone were to object, to come up with some reason that had escaped her. Anything to put an end to this horrible ceremony.
But no one did.
“Very well,” said the priest. “Th—”
His words were cut off by the doors of the apartment being thrown open. The eyes of the audience turned to the sound behind them, a crashing of the doors against the wall. Gasps sounded from the room, and Olivia’s own eyes widened as she looked towards the direction of the sound.
It was Ian.
Olivia’s heart jumped as she saw him standing there, a fierce look on his face as he stared down the audience. She couldn’t believe that he’d come back for her.
“Who the hell is this?” demanded the boss who’d walked Olivia to the altar, his face twisted in shock. “Brody, what the hell is going on?”
“Just some loose ends I didn’t tie up,” said Brody, staring down Ian.
“Let her go, or deal with me,” said Ian, his voice booming, filling the hall.
“I’m not scared of you, you freak!” shouted Brody in protest, his shoulders squaring as he prepared for a fight.
This seemed to be the answer that Ian was expecting. With blinding speed, he rushed towards Brody, crossing the length of the hall. Brody’s face shifted to an expression of horror as Ian bore down on him, and, grabbing Olivia’s arm, he jerked her away. With another deft movement, he snatched Noah from the arms of the woman holding him before rushing towards a section of the window that opened onto a balcony.
