by Brook Wilder
Simon popped the car door open, slipped into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. “We need to get out of here,” he said, mostly to himself. He had the habit of muttering things to no one in particular.
Della could feel herself hyperventilating. She tried not to move too much; at that point, there was no telling what Simon could do next. His gun was still in his pocket, and every once in a while, Della could see him trace his fingers over the bulge that was his pistol.
“What are you saying back there?!” Simon asked suddenly, turning around. Della’s eyes grew wide as she watched him swerve off the road and almost drive into a tree.
“Careful!” Della mumbled under the tape. She was terrified. Simon was driving like a madman; she could bet anything he didn’t even know where he was going. But he needed to get away, as far away as he possibly could from Mrs. Spellman’s house. Della could hear him talking and cursing under his breath as the car sped down a highway. Where was he taking her? Did he even know where he was going?
“Don’t you tell me to be careful,” he spat. “We needed to get out of there.” Simon was losing it. His fear of getting caught was taking over, and she could see him lose control over what he was doing by the second. Had anyone else heard the gunshots? Of course they had. The neighborhood was awfully quiet, and there was no way a bang like that could’ve gone unnoticed. Suddenly, Simon stepped on the brakes, pulling over at the side of the road. It was a desert road, almost completely empty. He popped the car door open, walking up to Della and just stood there, staring at her. Della shrunk away. She wished she would die before he could do anything to her. He turned around and walked away, eventually stopping at the side of the road and unzipping his pants. Della realized he was peeing.
She shuddered in disgust. There had to be a way she could get out of there. Simon zipped up his pants, wiped his hands over his shirt and then started towards the car again. The silence was killing Della. He opened the door for her, looking at her momentarily before he pulled out his gun. Della started panicking.
“Please, please, no!” she muttered.
“What was that, now?” Simon asked, his head cocked to the side. “Listen up,” he said, pointing the gun to her belly. “I’m going to un-tape your mouth, but if you try any funny tricks like you did last time, you’re dead,” he spat.
Della nodded. She could feel the tears gathering in her eyes, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Shut up!” Simon said, tearing the tape off. Della jumped in pain, clenching her eyes and squirming away in her seat. “Now, I don’t want you to utter a word, do you hear me?” he asked, his eyes locked on hers. Della nodded, and when he slid back into the driver’s seat and put his gun down next to him, she let out a sigh and was able to breathe again.
“W-where are you taking me?” Della asked, her voice trembling. She couldn’t help herself, she needed to know where they were going.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Simon asked, looking at her in the rear-view mirror. There was a pause. “I’m taking you to Al,” Simon hissed.
Della let out a gasp. “Al?” she jumped. “What does he have to do with this? What do you have to do with someone like him?” she asked, unable to control her rambling.
“I wasn’t planning on telling you before we got there, but just watching you panic is worth it, in my opinion... You wanna know why I’m taking you to Al, Della?”
Della didn’t say anything.
“You wanna know why?” he groaned. “Because you’re going to watch Prescott die, Della. You’re going to watch him die.”
Della felt her heart sink. She clenched her eyes, clutched at her stomach and threw her head back, trying to breathe.
“There something wrong, back there? We wouldn’t want you going into labor right now, that’s pretty inconvenient.”
Della moaned in horror. Her mind went blank; she couldn’t even begin to gather her thoughts. She couldn’t process what Simon had just told her. It all seemed so surreal to her, like it was all just one big nightmare, one big joke that was bound to end. “Please, please don’t do this,” she cried out in desperation. “Where are you taking me?”
“Didn’t I already say? I’m taking you to Al, Della. So you can watch him kill your precious Prescott, the father of your child!”
“Please, I beg you!” Della squealed, wiggling in her seat. There was nothing she could do now, nothing but wait for Simon to pull over and untie her.
“It’s no use, Della,” Simon whispered. “I’ve been working with Al for quite some time now, we’ve gotten pretty close,” he said. “He’s going to give me what I want, who I want... Just as long as I cooperate with him... It’s a win-win situation.”
Della leaned back in her seat, her face rid of any expression as her eyes followed the road.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Prescott couldn’t get his mind off Della. He cursed under his breath, speeding down the highway as he tried to relocate some of Al’s men. “They’re going to regret this,” he said, straightening himself on his bike. “We’re going to hunt those bastards down, and when we do, I’m going to wipe them off the face of the Earth.”
Prescott had never been so determined. It was one thing that Al had tried to kill him, but when it came down to his men, Shaft especially, there was no way he was going to let him get away with this. He had killed his father, and it was impossible, almost inconceivable, that Prescott was going to let Al do this to him again. He and Shaft had turned around, following a couple of Al’s men who they had managed to spot at a far point on the highway. Prescott was determined to catch up with them. It was like his life had turned into one big revenge circle, and, even though he was growing tired of it, he knew there was no other way.
“I think I see them,” Shaft said, pointing to a couple of distant black dots.
“I think you’re right,” Prescott said, speeding up. He caught up with them, squinting at the logo embroidered across the back of their jackets. X marks the spot. Without thinking, Prescott pulled out his gun, sped up next to the two men on their bikes and fired a couple of shots at them. Shaft cocked his pistol, looking out for any potential attackers. The two bikers swerved off the road and crashed into the wasteland.
“Check and mate,” Shaft said, sliding his gun back into his pocket.
“We have to turn around now, we need to go back to the house,” Prescott said suddenly, taking the route to his neighborhood.
“I don’t want you to worry, man,” Shaft said, placing a hand over Prescott’s shoulder. He clenched his eyes, groaning in pain.
“Hey, hey, are you okay back there?” Prescott asked.
“Just my leg,” Shaft said. He had tied a piece of fabric belonging to one of the men’s jackets around his gunshot wound--he had managed to stop the bleeding--but when a sharp pain shot up his thigh, he felt like he needed to get to a hospital.
“We’re going to get you to a hospital,” Prescott said.
“It’s okay, I’m okay,” Shaft said, his hand clasped in his lap. “Hey, don’t worry about Della, I’m sure she’s smart enough to have done what you told her to do.”
“I don’t know, man, we just need to get there as soon as possible, there’s no telling what this motherfucker’s going to do next,” Prescott said, exiting the highway. He couldn’t stop thinking about Della, and what had happened to her. He thought about whether she had done what he told her to, or if she just panicked. A part of him was wondering if she had heard him, in the first place. He sighed loudly, trying to get there as fast as possible without killing the both of them, and when he realized he was finally approaching their house, he felt his heart sink. Immediately, he knew something was wrong.
“I’ll go get you some gauze from inside,” Prescott said as he pulled over in the driveway, hopped off his bike and made his way to the front door. The lights were still on. Was Della still in there? Prescott unlocked the door, and, realizing that the TV was still on, assumed that Della was still there.
“Della?” he called out, pacing the room. He walked into the kitchen, but no one was there. He went upstairs to look for her, but she had disappeared. He knew she had probably followed his instructions to get out of the house. The question was, where’d she go? Prescott felt himself going crazy. “Her phone,” he whispered to himself as he looked around the house.
“Hey, did you find anything?” Shaft asked, following Prescott into his house.
“Shaft, her phone’s gone,” Prescott said.
“That means she took it with her,” Shaft replied, his eyes scanning the living room. There was a pause. “She’s a smart woman, Prescott, and you know that. Just, don’t call her right now.”
“I won’t,” Prescott said. He knew it was too risky. What if one of Al’s men had taken her? If anyone found out she had her phone on her, she would probably get into trouble. Prescott felt his body shudder at the very idea of anyone laying a hand on Della. She was a woman caught up in the middle of all of this, there was no telling what could’ve happened to her. “I’m worried, Shaft,” he muttered. “What if they got her?” he asked.
“Hey, you told her to run either way,” Shaft said, his eyes locked on Prescott’s.
“Yeah, but if it was just a false alarm she would’ve come back, wouldn’t she?” Prescott asked. He was growing desperate, pacing the house like a maniac. This whole thing was making him lose his mind, it was like he was caught up in this web of betrayal, not knowing who to trust. For all he knew, anyone could be a suspect.
He let out a sigh, thinking that all of this was his fault. He’s the one who went ahead and rebelled against Al and didn’t tell Della about it. It wasn’t her fault she was dragged into all of this. He was stupid not to see it. He kicked himself for not listening to Della, for waving her off when she was just looking out for his best interest. For their family’s best interest. Prescott felt himself tremble at the very thought of someone hurting Della, or their baby. It wasn’t just her life that was at risk, but the life of his unborn child, the only ray of hope he had been relying on for so long. How many times had she tried to warn him? How many times had they gone to bed mad at each other for something related to his work? He knew he was stubborn, but he didn’t see this coming. He was blinded by the desire to avenge his father for so long that he put his pregnant girlfriend’s life at risk. Was he that much of a horrible person for wanting to go great lengths to get to the traitors who smiled in his father’s face and then went on to conspire against him?
This is all your fault, you idiot, he thought to himself as he climbed up the stairs to their bedroom. “Della?” he cried out again, but this time, something caught his attention; on the bed, there was a note. A paper folded in half.
“What the fuck is this?” Prescott muttered under his breath. He slowly walked to the bed, squinting at the piece of paper. Della was a neat freak, it wasn’t like her at all to leave trash lying around the house. Prescott unfolded the note. “What the fuck?” he whispered again, his eyes scanning the lines of writing.
I see you’re looking for your precious Della. Just so I put you out of your misery, she’s with me. You’re stubborn, Prescott. You’re stubborn and you have a big ego. Those are two things I despise. If only you could just let go of the past, let the dead stay dead. I didn’t do this, Prescott. Your father did. I was only looking out for the club’s best interest. But you were selfish, your drive to seek revenge caused you to step over anyone who stood in your way. Give up on the coup, Prescott. Join me and the rest of the club, or let your precious Della die.
Al
Prescott lifted his eyes from the paper. His hands were trembling, and he could feel something boil up inside him, something sinister. He let out a grunt, smashing the paper in his hands and rolling it up into a ball. “The bastard, I’m gonna kill this bastard!” he groaned, his voice echoing everywhere. Shaft hurried upstairs. He limped down the hall, feeling his way along the walls until he reached Della and Prescott’s room.
“What’s wrong?!” he demanded, walking up to Prescott and peering over his shoulder.
Prescott handed him the note, clenching his jaw as he eyed Shaft, who unfolded it slowly and began to read it. There was a silence. “Motherfucker,” Shaft whispered, his eyes dropping to the floor. He could only imagine what Prescott was feeling right now. His girlfriend, the mother of his child, had been abducted by his archenemy, who just so happened to be the person behind his father’s murder. Shaft felt his body shudder just thinking about it. He let out a loud sigh, placing a hand over Prescott’s shoulder. “We’re going to find her,” he said. “We’re not going to let this son of a bitch get away with this.”
Prescott felt his heart sink. “It’s all my fault,” he said, sitting down at the edge of the bed and putting his hands together. “It’s all my fucking fault,” he said again, his jaw clenched. His mind was racing with a million thoughts. He wanted to get up right now and go looking for Della, but a part of him felt defeated, like he would never find her. The truth was, he felt like a blind idiot, like he had let his anger get the best of him.
Shaft just looked at him. “It’s not your fault, Prescott,” he said. “God only knows how much you love her, and how you would never stop at anything to make sure that no one hurts her,” he continued, sitting down next to him.
“That’s the problem, Shaft, I don’t know when to stop. I don’t know when to turn away,” Prescott said, his eyebrows furrowed. He was growing desperate. He was questioning everything. Was Al the one who barged in and left him that note? It couldn’t have been him. There was no way he could make it out of the safe house and to their house in such a short amount of time. He wouldn’t have the guts to. After all, Al was afraid of Prescott. He was afraid of what he was capable of. The truth was, Al knew that Prescott was more powerful than he ever could be, which is why he had to ensure that Prescott surrendered.
“Surely not now,” Shaft said, his eyes locked on Prescott’s. “How could you even think of backing out now, of all times?” he asked.
“I’m not backing out,” Prescott shot up, pacing the room. “I just don’t know where to start, I don’t know where to look!”
Shaft got up slowly. He had almost forgotten about his leg, but when he felt a throbbing pain shoot up his thigh the second he stood up, he knew he had to do something about it. “Let’s go,” he said, gesturing to Prescott. “Let’s go find Della,” he continued.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Prescott said. He looked lost.
“The clubhouse,” Shaft said, turning to Prescott.
“Wait, wait, Al couldn’t have taken her there,” Prescott said, his eyes darting back and forth. “That’s too obvious, he’s smarter than that,” he continued. And he knew he was right. Al was a snake. There was no way he was going to make a mistake as stupid as this. He wanted to hit Prescott in all the weak spots, and it looked like he knew exactly how to do that.
“Then where do you think he took her?” Shaft asked, his head cocked to the side.
“I don’t know,” Prescott said. “But I know how we can find out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Della watched Simon as he drove down the highway. She felt her skin crawl every time their gazes met in the rear-view mirror, but she couldn’t help but wonder how, and when it had occurred to him to do what he did. She let out a loud sigh, one that made him turn to her.
“Can you just keep your eyes on the road?” Della jumped. “I’m pretty sure turning to look at me while driving on a highway isn’t the best idea.”
“Oh, Della, your sarcastic wit has always made me weak for you,” Simon chuckled. Even the sound of his laugh made her want to rip her hair out. At that point, she wasn’t scared of him. She knew he was an instrument. It was the thought of meeting Al that terrified her.
Della opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She paused for a second, clearing her throat. She couldn’t believe she was actually about to make conversation with her kidnapper. �
��Simon,” she said suddenly. “When did you decide to do this?” she asked, averting her gaze to the window. She still didn’t want to make eye contact with him. She knew he had the power to twist her actions around and interpret them as a sign of interest.
“I love it when you say my name,” Simon said, ignoring her question.
“Well, will you answer me?” Della asked, trying not to sound agitated. Somewhere down the line she realized that the only way she could get Simon to calm down was to sweet talk him. “When did you decide to do this?” she asked again. This time, she forced her gaze to meet his, fluttering her eyelashes.
There was a silence. She could tell Simon was thinking about something. His forehead was wrinkled and his eyebrows were furrowed. It looked like he was remembering something, something painful. “Ever since that day, that day campus security took me away... I was humiliated. I was fucking humiliated, Della! You were never going to see me the same after what happened!” he yelled, stomping on the gas pedal. “I had to make sure you didn’t ever change your opinion of me, I’m not a fucking pussy,” he said, rather to himself this time. Della actually felt sorry for Simon. His frantic ways were going to be the end of him. No, the end of her. The end of Prescott and their baby. She had to snap out of it and think of ways to get out of there. But, as long as she was in a moving car, she couldn’t really do anything. All she had to do was wait to see where Simon was taking her. The very thought of meeting Al again was tugging at her sanity, but she needed to pull it together, she needed a plan.
