The one man he’s hellbent on killing now.
As if he hasn’t taken away enough from me already, now he wants to take the only person capable of bringing me real happiness.
The only person capable of healing me.
Unleashing a war cry of my own, I come up behind him, pulling on that thick black hair with what seems like centuries of loathing attached. Running on sheer instinct, I jam the needle as deep as I can.
Straight into his left eye.
Unlike when Drew broke his nose right now, a high-pitched screech echoes from his throat, panic shrinking the pupil of his left eye.
I jam the need deeper and pull his hair harder. “You’re not taking him from me,” I growl.
Stephen jerks out of my hold, toppling face first onto the ground. That needle remains in his eye, more of his blood dripping onto the linoleum surface of the floor.
Doesn’t stop him from scrambling towards that gun—a creature desperate for its last chance at survival.
I run the last few steps to catch up to him. Just as his fingers are about to reach the weapon, I stomp my heel into the back of his hand.
“DAMN IT, LEXI!” The thing that shocks me enough about his tone isn’t the volume, but how utterly heartbroken he truly sounds. “I’ve loved you!”
My heel comes down on his hand even harder. “That’s what you fucking call love?” I shout back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Drew rise, his face covered in cuts, bruises, and the blood from his head.
The sight only pisses me off more and I dig my heel into the hole on the back of Stephen’s hand.
“Fuck! You think killing me will end this? I’ve upped the offer to half-a-billion for his life! He’ll never survive!” He rears back, intent on buckling me off—
Drew is there in a flash, the gun in his hand, the butt of it slamming into Menahan’s head.
For a second, I don’t think it’ll be enough . . .
Watching his head slump onto the floor, the fight leaking out of his body, leaves me dizzy with relief.
“Lexi.” Drew comes at me.
Whispering his name, I throw my arms around him, both of us trembling like leaves in the wind.
“Baby,” Drew rasps into my head, kissing it repeatedly. “We need to get out of here with him. Now. The building might still be on fire.”
I’d totally forgotten about that. Shit.
Although, we’re only on the second floor and the flames haven’t reached us, yet.
Just as I think it, a billowing cloud of black smoke becomes visible, working its way down the hallway outside the glass doors like a snake slithering towards its prey.
Drew sees it, too. His eyes flicker to my gun wound, my blazer stained red on both arms from both injuries, and his brow furrows into an expression I’ve never seen before.
“Grab him,” I say in a hoarse voice.
He hesitates and I can see his internal struggle playing out clearly.
Snatching the gun from his hand, I make my voice as strong and confident as I can. “Drew, grab him and lets get the fuck out of here. Now.”
chapter 65
t he scar bisecting my left arm hypnotizes me. Like some kind of pied piper that’s forever calling my name. Come, lost boy, it whispers. Lose yourself to the pit again. Finish what you started all those years ago.
Shit, how long has it been now? Four years, I think. Roughly one-thousand-four-hundred-and-sixty days, give or take a few, since I nearly succeeded in my quest to end the pain.
In case you haven’t noticed, they got that door open just in time back at the rehab. I’d almost entirely bled out at that point, but they managed to save me.
In more ways than one.
I don’t know why the shift occurred upon my awakening from that second attempt. What part of my soul finally snapped free from the fog. Maybe it was those final thoughts as I went under—the second time I was forced to realize that death meant escaping my demons, yes.
But it also meant never having the chance to find Lexi.
To have her again.
To make my father pay for everything he’s done to us both.
Not just him, either. I’ll never forgive any of my ex-friends for what they did seven years ago. My ex-girlfriend, either.
One day, they’ll all regret their choices.
All of them.
Starting today.
I roll down my sleeve and tuck my hands into my pants, watching the elevator climb floors. The call I got earlier was another reminder why it’s great I’m still here.
Every day, the hole in me grows. There hasn’t been a hint of Lexi since Lily Bennett disappeared from Illinois. Not even Witness Protection could have hidden her this well. Not from me. Not with all the tech I have access to.
Makes me wonder where she is. What she’s up to. How she managed to hide both her mother and herself like this?
Soon, I’m going to have even more power at my disposal. I’ve finally accepted my uncle’s offer. I’m taking everything my father built away from him. Even if he somehow survives what’s happening to him—spoiler alert: he won’t. Not only did the call earlier prove it, I’m here to make sure of it—he’s done as CEO.
A life of leisure is his only option moving forward.
They say a lifetime of ugly eventually catches up with a person. Either from the outside or from within.
My father’s heart already gave out on him. That’s the “from within” part.
I’m riding this elevator to finally come see him because I have plans of being the “from the outside” portion of his demise.
Is it wrong I have this urge to whistle?
Yes?
Oh well. It is what it is. If his state is as fragile as they say, the world will soon be rid of one more monster, at least.
Really, I’m a hero.
If one abandons the ingrained beliefs of what constitutes right and wrong that modern society is so obsessed with.
I get off on his floor and walk right past the nurse’s station to his luxury, isolated room. He’s awake when I walk inside. Prostrated. Weak. Gaunt. So many wires connected to him that it’s hard not to find it hilarious.
And still he manages his infamous sneer as he lays eyes upon me. “Neither you or your mother have bothered to come see me.” Even his voice is reedy.
Rising my eyebrows, I saunter into the room, not bothering to hide my rare good mood. “Imagine that. I wonder why.” I hum as I come to a stop next to him. “Uncle Richard told me he was here earlier. That he gave you the excellent news and all that.”
My father’s fingers twitch next to his hip but he doesn’t even have the strength to curl them into a fist.
The same fist that has pummeled me so many times throughout my miserable life.
When he doesn’t answer, I gift him with a megawatt smile. “I’m going to take your place as CEO.”
“It’s about damn time you smartened up and decided to do the right thing.”
So much contempt. Even as he lays in a hospital bed, machines struggling to keep him alive, his feeble heart replaced with a new heart that his body is rejecting. Smiling coldly at the man before me, I lean towards him and whisper, “I’m only taking the position so that one day, when I find Lexi, I can give it to her.”
My father’s eyes bulge out of his head and his face turns bright red.
“That’s right.” I nod. “Once I find her, I’m going to make sure a Berkman end up in charge of your company.”
“Y-you”—cough—“ungrateful”—cough—“bastard!” The heart monitor goes crazy, his body contorting on the bed.
I have seconds before the nurses and doctors get here. If that. “Oh Father, please. I would’ve been better off as a bastard, but alas you had to claim me. Oh, and when I find out what Lucian Berkman invented, I’m going to make sure the whole world knows it was him. Not you.”
That does it.
What seems like an entire crowd rushing into the room, nurses, a few doctors, his m
ain physician.
But it’s too late. My father’s eyes roll back into his head, a final strained grunt exiting his mouth—
Then, just like that, what had to have been at least fifty-five-years of monstrosity—although I firmly believe this sixty-two-year-old man was a devil from birth—comes to an end, the heart monitor flat lining besides him.
Elation—sheer fucking elation—bursts through my blood, a feeling like floating through air, and yet for the sake of appearances I need to put on an act. Evince some form of concern.
I question the doctors frantically as they get to work, purposely standing in their way when they try to move me so that they won’t have enough time to resuscitate him.
Finally, someone simply shoves me out of the way. “What’s going on? Save him! Save him!” It sickens me how convincing I sound. How fake I’m being.
Yet, something tells me this skill is going to come in handy later on.
The paddles are brought out and I watch as my father’s body arches off the bed with each hit.
And I pray.
Not for his life, but that he remains gone.
That he never comes back.
At exactly 4:32pm, one of the doctors calls it.
Ronald Drevlow is finally dead.
He’ll never be able to hurt anyone again.
Especially Lexi, the day I finally locate her.
chapter 66
. . .
t he loading dots on the screen blink and I stare in disbelief.
Is this some sick joke?
Another way for Menahan to mess with my already broken mind?
Those dots repair, flashing across my screen.
. . .
It’s a message loading, that’s a given. But from whom? No one reaches me here. No one even knows I exist anymore.
It can only be him, my never-ending tormentor, and the thought threatens to break open the floodgates of my barely contained wrath.
I yank the keyboard closer to me, with more force than necessary, and prepare to take the initiative.
Namely, despite the risk to my mom and I’s safety, I’m about to curse him the hell off.
Words begin appearing across my screen, killing my chance.
Unknown Sender: You keep trying to hack out of the systems. Any reason why?
I almost rear back in my seat, terror gripping my spirit in an unforgiving hold. Oh God, it’s him. It is him. Not only that, but he’s caught onto my small, stealth attempts to slowly work my way past the firewalls while avoiding detection . . .
Unknown Sender: I’m not Stephen Menahan, if that’s what you’re thinking.
Bullshit. Bullshit. Of course it’s him and he’s trying to lure me into a false sense of security so that I’ll—
Unknown Sender: Check the IP address if you don’t believe me.
Furious, I finally type out a response.
Lexi: Stop fucking with me, Stephen. Fine, you caught me. Come punish me then. But we both know IP addresses can be cloaked and bounced off towers anywhere. Enough bullshit.
Unknown Sender: Not this IP. Check it and you’ll see why.
Lexi: Uhuh. Yeah. And when I run this IP search, you’ll have more proof to . . . what? Use against me? What more could you possibly do to me?
I regret the message as soon as I send it. What more can he possibly do? Kill my mother outright or deny her the test-meds that have been barely keeping her alive.
Unknown Sender: It’s taken our team months to get into these systems. Do you honestly believe I’d have this communication wide open? Your attempts to hack out were picked up by us early on during our infiltration. It’s taken months to get in this deep. Besides, if I am Stephen Menahan, don’t you think it’s too late? Clearly, whatever power he has to hurt you, wouldn’t discovering your hacking attempts be enough of a reason for him to wield it?
Unsure, I nibble on my bottom lip, hands cold from the fear. This person, whoever they are, surely doesn’t sound like Menahan. Yet even that could be a ploy.
They’re right though. All it’ll take to bring down Menahan’s vengeance upon my mom and I is him finding a single hint that his good little puppet has been searching for a way out.
On a whim, and desperate to end this charade if it is one, I pull up the software to run the IP trace. It takes less than a minute for the number to pop up on my screen. A second, simpler search, and I feel my stomach bottom out once more.
Lexi: Is this a fucking joke? Is is you Stephen and you’re sick. Absolutely sick. Trying to make it seem like Andrew’s reaching out to me. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?
Face burning, heart twisting with this all-consuming, misplaced yearning, I send my chair skidding back and move to stand.
Unknown Sender: Who are YOU? Why are you mentioning my nephew?
Nephew?
In my recent “grants of freedom”, as I call Stephen’s tiny concessions over time, my access to worldwide news has been restored. I had some before, but I never even tried to keep up with current events. However, everyone in the East Coast heard of the infamous Ronald Drevlow’s passing, from a heart-transplant failure no less.
Sixty-two-years-old and not even his precious technology could save him.
Upon his death, his son was appointed as next CEO, leaving his brother, Richard Drevlow, in his position of CFO.
My world spins at the possibility.
What this might mean.
Yet, none of it matters. Even if it is Richard Drevlow speaking to me, what good could it do? A Drevlow could never save me. If anything, they’ll bring my down further.
My mind flashes back to the first time Stephen took me by force. Then, to that day in that tiny office, when he nearly killed me as he took my virginity back there, too.
What was the point of constantly throwing Andrew in his face like that if I didn’t believe it?
The Drevlows are monsters, but the Menahans?
I run back to my computer.
Lexi: Are you telling me you’re Richard Drevlow?
Unknown Sender: Now I’m starting to believe you’re Menahan. I won’t ask again before cutting off this communication. Who are you?
Cut off the communication? My first contact with anyone from the outside world in six years? Yes, it’s a Drevlow on the other end, but it’s someone other than Mom or Menahan.
My fingers fly across the keyboard with the speed of my panic.
Lexi: I went to high school with Stephen and Andrew. He keeps me here. Forces me to help him with his innovations. Why are you hacking into his servers?
Unknown Sender: YOU are the hidden asset we’ve heard about? What do you mean he keeps you there?
Lexi: WHY are you hacking into his servers?
Unknown Sender: I don’t know who you are, but clearly if any of what you say is true, you must know he’s constantly trying to infiltrate our own. We launched our own cyber offensive months ago.
Of course, Stephen is. His hatred for Andrew has become pathological. I can only assume it’s because I never got over him. Because I’ve thrown Andrew in his face so many times.
A crazy idea begins to blossom, one clearly born out of desperation . . . but this is the first chance I’ve gotten in over half-a-decade. What choice do I have but to try?
Lexi: What if I can help you bring him down? Can you help get me out of here? Can you help my mother? She’s infected with a new strain of HIV/AIDs and needs special, advanced care.
Unknown Sender: My God . . .
Lexi: Can. You. Help. Me?
Unknown Sender: What is your name?
Lexi: I need confirmation of yours, first. Who are you?
Unknown Sender: If you know my nephew Andrew, then you know who I am. My name is Richard Drevlow.
Tears leak hot down my cheeks. Why? I couldn’t even be able to answer that, but the keyboard blurs in my vision as I respond.
Lexi: My name is Lexi Berkman. Your brother helped destroy my father. But please, I’m begging you, save me and my mom. I’ll giv
e you whatever you want, help you destroy Menahan. Just find me somewhere to transfer my mom too where she’ll get the medical help she needs, then I can get out.
chapter 67
t he fire was successfully put out at Drevlow Systems, although the entire roof of the amphitheater was destroyed by the blast.
Regular C4 this time. At least, that’s the preliminary hypothesis. Menahan must’ve had one of this mafia associates, or whatever, set it off from the top row, possibly even from the light-control room.
It wasn’t meant to bring down the whole building. Just to cause a massive distraction while his fucking paid assassins took my man out.
Veins throbbing with Satanic fury, I pound my way down the concrete hall, hands fisted at my side. Upon arriving at the heavy door leading to the room Barnard and Shane Harris died in, I slam one of my fists into it hard enough to send the door flying open.
On the other side, Drew stands over the gurney where Menahan is strapped.
Menahan, who’s eyes are slowly sliding opening, taking in his surroundings with his one good eye. The other moves around the socket, unfocused, destroyed by the needle I shoved into it earlier.
I ignore him, focusing on my man and the cleaned-up cuts along his face.
Drew’s doing the same with me, no doubt shaken up by the sight of my blood marring the white blazer I shrugged back on. Beneath it, both wounds on my arm have been stitched shut. I was warned to wear my right arm in a sling.
Not in the mood for that right now.
“Come here,” Drew urges, voice gruff.
Heels clicking, I jog to him, cupping his face as soon as I’m close enough. His beautiful, swollen, injured face. “You’re okay.”
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