by Willow Rose
There was no way she’d get out of this alive.
The little girl in front of her grabbed a fork and a plate from the pile and Olivia did the same, fighting to keep her hand from shaking so badly she risked dropping the plate on the floor and causing a spectacle. It was important that she didn’t draw any attention to herself, were the instructions when she was sent down in the elevator with the three other girls. Olivia considered dropping the plate on purpose and maybe creating a diversion, but she didn’t dare to. From the other end of the restaurant, a set of eyes followed her every move. A tall guy dressed in swim shorts and a Hawaiian shirt stared at her from behind the sunglasses, his hand clutched on the gun in his pocket. He was standing by the door, so he would be the first to get out once the gas was released.
Olivia exhaled nervously and held out the plate in front of her, while the girl next to her whined because she wanted to have a soda, but the buffet only had juice.
“You can have soda for lunch, okay?” her mother said.
“I don’t wanna have soda for lunch. I want it now,” the girl said and pulled her hand out of her mother’s grip.
Olivia felt her heart race while thinking about her siblings and her own parents. She knew in this instant that she was never going to see any of them again, and it tormented her so deeply she felt tears pile up in her eyes. She wished that she’d at least get to say goodbye.
I miss you, Mom. I miss you so much. You would know what to do!
“Are you okay?” a man standing behind her suddenly asked.
Olivia gasped and bit her lip to stifle her crying. She glanced toward the guy by the door. His eyes were fixated on her, his hand on the gun.
“I’m fine,” she said and looked up at him.
The man smiled comfortably. “Say, are you here alone?”
Olivia glanced briefly at the guard by the door again while contemplating telling the man the truth, just spilling it all, but once again, she didn’t dare.
“No. I’m with my parents. They’re over there,” she said and nodded in the direction of a couple that sat at the other end of the restaurant.
“Ah, I see. You on vacation?”
She nodded as the line moved forward. She was supposed to poke the bag as soon as she reached the front of the line by the fruit. That way, she’d hit the densest area of people in the entire restaurant. The liquid would run out onto the floor, and she’d breathe in the gas, which would kill her slowly and painfully.
“Where from?” he asked as they took another step forward.
“I’m sorry; what?”
“Where are you visiting from?”
“Oh. Wisconsin.”
“Wisconsin, huh? I’m from Texas.”
“I hear it’s nice there too,” she said, her voice shaking.
But you’ll never get to see it again if you don’t run far away from me now. Run, you idiot, and take all the children with you.
“And hot,” he said. “It’s a different kind of hot than here, though.”
“Because of the drier air,” she said and took yet another step forward. There were about three steps left until she reached her target. She held the fork tightly in her sweaty hand. The two children in front of her were laughing, the girl holding her mother’s hand tightly in hers again, having forgotten everything about the soda she wanted a few seconds ago. They were dressed in swimsuits underneath their thin shirts, ready to jump in the pool as soon as breakfast was devoured, while their parents were looking forward to spending an entire day just resting poolside while the kids played and had the time of their lives. They had probably been looking forward to this piece of heaven for months, maybe even years.
Olivia’s eyes met those of the other girl that had come here with her, standing in the back of the line. She too was sweating heavily, and her eyes were struck with deep fear. She was supposed to die today as well, while the two other girls sitting at the tables by the exits would be able to make it out in time. They had already placed their bags on the floor and were ready to poke them as soon as it was time. Then they would leave while Olivia and the other girl in the line would never be able to make it out in time. They were too far from the doors, even if they threw the bags and ran.
The closer Olivia came to the fruit, the closer the man kept an eye on her, and the more strained his face got. The fork almost slipped out of Olivia’s sweaty hand as she took another step forward, and now only stood a few feet away. She took in another deep breath as the line moved again, and she now stood right in front of the fruit.
She turned her head with a light gasp and looked at the man by the door. He nodded to let her know that it was time.
Olivia felt the fork in her hand and turned it a couple of times before she lifted it in the air.
Chapter 90
“Oh, boy. I’m going to die!”
Ryan had his arms wrapped tightly around my waist while I zigzagged between cars through morning traffic. He was yelling and screaming behind me, but I chose to ignore him.
Cars honked at us, and someone flipped us off, but we had no time to waste on an idiot like him. As we came up toward a roadblock ahead, I turned around and went back. I found another way and raced through the smaller neighborhoods as fast as possible. At one point, I even drove off the road and over a hill to avoid a roadblock.
“Where are we going?” he yelled, his voice shivering as we came to a red light and I stopped for a few seconds.
“I told you; I’m going to find my daughter,” I said. “And there is only one person who knows where she is.”
“Do you know where this person is?”
“I have a hunch, yes.”
“I’m risking my life on a hunch?” Ryan asked.
“You and me both, baby,” I said and revved the machine as the light turned green again. “Hold on. This might get a little bumpy.”
Ryan let out another shriek as I raced down a small street and soon reached downtown. I made a left turn and ran a red light when a patrol car caught my tail and put his siren on.
“Shoot.”
Seeing this, I sped up, and he tried to follow, but I was way faster than him and able to zigzag between cars. Soon, he had called for backup, and three police cruisers were following us, racing across town toward Coconut Grove.
I could see the big, tall buildings as they rose in front of us and, soon, I raced the bike up in front of one of them. I threw the bike just as the patrol cars came up behind me, tires screeching. There was a lot of yelling, and Ryan screamed and stood with his hands over his head.
“Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.”
Guns were pointed at us, and the yelling continued.
“STOP, or we’ll shoot! Hands where we can see them!”
I put my hands above my head while more patrol cars came driving up. Ryan whimpered and fell to his knees, while I stared at the entrance to the building, feeling my heart pound uncontrollably in my chest.
If they take you in now, it’s over. You’re so close, Eva Rae.
I sensed they were coming closer, guns pointed at me.
“I said down on your knees! Hands behind your head,” someone yelled.
I contemplated this for a few seconds and was about to do as I was told; I really was. But then something came over me; I can’t exactly explain what it was. A stubbornness, you might call it. Maybe stupidity. Whatever it was, it empowered me just enough to stop midway, then lower my hands and make a run for it.
I stormed toward the front entrance, while the police officers yelled behind me and a shot was fired. The doors slid open in front of me, and I threw myself into the lobby of the building.
Chapter 91
“More salmon, sweetie?”
Helen shook her head. She had never liked salmon, but of course, her mother didn’t know that.
Her mother’s Botox-face tried to smile but was unsuccessful. It barely moved. She was sitting on the couch with the views over Biscayne Bay from everywhere you looked. It was a gorgeous pla
ce, and most people would love to be sitting where she was right now, but not Helen. She loathed this place more than anywhere in this world. She couldn’t believe she had ended up back here again.
“It’s just so good to have you back,” her mother said and sipped her Champagne. It was still only eight in the morning but never too early for her mother to drink alcohol.
Helen’s father shoveled in scrambled eggs and salmon while grumbling loudly.
“Don’t you think, Jack?” her mother said. “That it is wonderful to have Helen back again? I’m just so glad that you finally were able to break free from that awful cult. And now we don’t have to talk more about that. Just that we’re happy that nightmare is finally over. Now, we can begin a new chapter.”
Her mother moved a lock of hair from Helen’s face, and she pulled away, annoyed, then sipped her coffee. Her sister Aubrey was standing by the window, looking out over the bay. She had barely spoken a word to Helen since she came back to them. Helen had disappointed them. She could tell by how they looked at her.
Helen’s father drank from his cup, then put it down hard on the table, causing all the plates to jump. Helen’s mother gasped, and they all looked at him.
“I just don’t get how she could have been so stupid,” he said with that low growl that had always frightened Helen so. He hadn’t looked at her since she got back, and he wasn’t looking at her now either. He still spoke about her like she wasn’t even in the room.
“She gave them millions of our hard-earned money, for Christ’s sake. Of the family’s savings. Money I have worked to be able to give to her. Couldn’t she see that it was a trap? How could anyone be so stupid?”
“Jack!” her mother exclaimed with a light snort. “You promised me. We need to put this behind us. Besides, I have read that this leader was very persuasive and charming. Lots of people fell for his schemes. Respectable people like our family. Helen is the victim here.”
Her father grunted and rose to his feet, then began pacing. “But becoming a terrorist? Killing people? For what? Because she loved him? Because he was so attractive and charming, she couldn’t say no to him? Explain this to me because I don’t understand it. She did this willingly. She gave him money of her own free will; she took nerve gas into a high school intending to kill hundreds of children. They forced young kids, young girls that had been trafficked and held hostage by the cult to do these awful things. But you, Helen. You went to them. You chose to be in this cult. You were there because you wanted to be there. You could have walked out of it long ago before it got this far.”
“She was brainwashed, Jack,” her mother said. “The therapist told us so, remember?”
“The way I see it, you always have a choice,” her sister said without turning around and looking at Helen.
Helen shook her head with a sniffle. “I couldn’t get out of it,” she said. “It was too late. I was in too deep. They would have locked me up if I refused to participate in this. That’s what they do to people. One woman spent an entire year locked up, being abused by the leader. Haven’t you read the stories that they have written, the interviews I have given where I tell everything?”
“Yes, we read those awful articles,” her mother said, shaking her head. “I really wish you hadn’t gone public with it that way. It is… terribly embarrassing.”
Helen shook her head in disbelief. Here she thought she had done the right thing, telling the world about Christopher Daniels and the bastard he was, and still, her family resented her for it. She couldn’t win with those people, could she?
It didn’t matter what she did. It was simply never enough. She was never good enough.
Chapter 92
“Where are we going?”
Somehow without me realizing it, Ryan had managed to follow me inside. He was pale as a ghost, staring at me while the commotion continued inside. The police had barricaded the exit with their cruisers and were running for the door.
My nostrils were flaring, my mind going in circles because of fear, but luckily, I was one of those people who thought best under pressure. I knew exactly where we were going.
“The elevator,” I said and ran for it and pressed the button excessively. It dinged, and we entered just as four officers came through the sliding doors into the lobby. It took them one second to spot us inside the elevator.
“STOP!”
The doors weren’t closing even though I kept slamming the button. Ryan whimpered next to me and, as the officers approached us, I knew the doors wouldn’t close in time. I looked up at Ryan while the angry footsteps approached us, then said: “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to have to do this.”
“W-what do you mean?” he asked, holding his hands above his head. Meanwhile, I reached down to my ankle and pulled out my gun. The police yelled. One of them reached the elevator door and placed a hand in it so it couldn’t close.
“I am sorry,” I whispered, pulled out the gun, and placed it against Ryan’s head.
“GUN!” one of the officers yelled, and I knew just what that word meant to them in a situation like this. Fear and adrenaline would rush through their minds while remembering all the colleagues they had lost and stories they had heard about situations escalating with a mad shooter.
This was serious now. The minute I pulled the gun, I had crossed a line. From now on, I knew they’d shoot me the second they got the chance.
“Step back, or he gets it,” I said, pressing the gun against Ryan’s temple. I was screaming like a madman, trying to sound convincing.
“I’m not joking here. Stand back, or I’ll shoot!”
It worked. The officers took a few steps back, enough for the doors to close, and soon, the elevator was lifting us up. My heart rate was in a frenzy, and I could barely breathe. Ryan stood like he was frozen, his hands shaking, but not making a sound. I removed the gun, then bent forward to breathe better.
“That was close. I’m sorry, Ryan. That I had to do this to you. Are you okay?”
I looked up at him, and he breathed raggedly.
“You knew I wasn’t going to shoot you, right?”
He finally nodded as the elevator reached its stop. “S-sure.”
“Good because I wouldn’t have. Not in a million years. I was only buying us some time. Now that they think I’ve kidnapped you, they’ll have to call for the hostage taskforce. It’ll take a while, and they’ll stay away. Besides, once we are finally caught, they’ll think you were a victim, not my accomplice, and you won’t get in trouble. You’re welcome, by the way.”
We stopped by a door, and I took in a deep breath, then felt the Colt in my hand. This was it. It was time to face the music.
I knocked, and soon the door opened.
“You?” the person said, startled.
I nodded, making sure Christopher Daniels could see the gun in my hand. “Yes, me. You and I need to have a little chat.”
Chapter 93
“How did you find me?” Christopher Daniels grumbled as he closed the door behind us. I made sure the gun was visible still as I sat down in a recliner by the window. Ryan looked nervously around, then stood by the window, staying a few steps away from both of us. Christopher Daniels sat down too, right across from me, folding his hands in his lap, looking at me with a smirk. He looked relaxed in his white loose linen clothes and, as usual, annoyingly handsome.
“Some punk took a picture of you entering this building and posted it on Instagram last night,” I said. “I’m surprised to see that the place isn’t already crawling with journalists, but the day is still young. They’ll be here soon. It wasn’t hard for me to find out that one of your inner circle cult members, Giselle Hovers, whom I had the pleasure of meeting while staying at the NYX estate, owned one of the top floor apartments here, and, of course, that was where you were staying.”
He answered with a smile. “I always believed you were very bright. You could have made it far in NYX if you had cared to stay long enough for us to show you what we can offer.
”
“I know what you have to offer,” I said. “And I am not interested.”
He shrugged and leaned back. It bothered me that he didn’t seem the least bit afraid of me or the gun in my hand. I had to control myself. I wanted to hurt this guy so terribly, but so far, he was the only one who could help me find my daughter.
“Suit yourself.”
“I want my daughter back,” I said.
“I’m sure you do,” he answered.
I lifted the gun. “Where is she?”
He stretched out his hands. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Don’t mess with me,” I said and rose to my feet. “I will hurt you and take great pleasure in doing so. Starting by shooting you in the right kneecap, then the left one, and moving my way up until you talk. The one in the crotch should make you scream. A lot.”
He chuckled and leaned forward in the chair, hands clasped against one another.
“You can do all you want to me, but it won’t help. I don’t have your daughter. I never had her. Not her. Not any of those other girls that the police are accusing me of kidnapping.”
I stared at him, my hands growing sweaty. “B-but… you used them. For the attacks. You’re the Iron Fist.”
He shook his head gently. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me, but I am not him. I never was. I don’t even know what an Iron Fist is. And I had nothing to do with those attacks.”
“But… but the cult leader in Japan. You were inspired by him. You were just like him; you did what he did because you…”
He shook his head. “Never.”