by Lola Gabriel
Ara wished that she could speak to Emma more, but her former associate had already left the cafeteria. Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, she timidly looked around the half-filled hall, wondering how she would ever get used to living a life behind bars—a life away from Titus when she had just found him.
You should be grateful for the time you were able to spend with him, she reminded herself, slowly turning her eyes back to the slop on her tray. Aside from a piece of bread, nothing else was identifiable, and it had nothing to do with the cultural difference; the food was inedible.
“You better eat,” the guard offered.
Ara hadn’t even realized she was still standing nearby.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied quietly.
The woman snickered. “No one gives a shit. If you get sick in here, you’re as good as dead. You’ve already got a target on your back, honey. If you don’t keep your strength up, you may as well just kill yourself right now. It will be less painful for you that way.”
A shiver of apprehension slithered through Ara as she recognized the sincerity in the officer’s words. She’s serious. She’s not trying to scare me, she’s trying to warn me.
Slowly, Ara picked up the plastic fork and began to swirl the greyish-white mess around on her dish, closing her eyes before she put a mouthful between her lips. It tasted as bad as it looked, and Ara found herself longing for Marta’s home cooking with a craving so strong, it knocked the wind from her lungs.
You better get used to this, she told herself, dredging up memories of her childhood on purpose for once. She thought of the cold pork and beans, their metallic taste on her tongue as her father stood over her, screaming that there was no money to waste on food. She saw his bleary irises and smelled the booze oozing from his pores.
You’ve endured worse than this, Ara recalled firmly, shoveling another forkful of mush into her gullet. You’re a grown woman. You can deal with this. After all, you helped with the theft, whether or not you knew about it. You need to accept your fate and do your time if that’s what is decided. She chewed the rubbery mess in her mouth, reluctant to swallow as a rush of bile flooded upward through her esophagus.
It was true; she had been through much worse times when she had been much more vulnerable. At least at St. Albans, there was heat in the winters, a bed, and something to put in her belly, guaranteed.
In her childhood, if she had known such a place existed, she would have gotten herself arrested just for those qualities alone.
But she was not little Arabella anymore. She was not a neglected child with a dirty face and ripped clothes.
What about me has changed so much? she asked herself contemptuously. You haven’t gotten very far with your life since then.
Yet as she pushed the half-finished meal aside and lifted her head slowly, Ara knew what had changed.
The desire to fight for herself.
She had tasted what life could be like for her.
I don’t have to run scared or live in boxes. I don’t have to keep my eyes down and worry about stepping on other people’s toes.
An uncharacteristic flood of courage surged through Ara’s body as she thought of all that was waiting for her on the other side of the prison walls.
I will fight, she told herself with determination. And I will find my way back to Titus.
15
“You need to bring that bastard back to me!” Titus roared. “That’s why she’s been taken in, I know it! He’s released the pictures!”
“Tito, you need to calm down,” Anders sighed. “I don’t think George Vander has anything to do with this.”
“What the hell else could it be? It’s not a coincidence.”
Anders shrugged. “It might be.”
Titus stared at his brother, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Well?” he demanded when Anders took too long to respond.
“There’s new evidence against her,” Anders explained slowly. “And it’s not good.”
Titus’ eyes narrowed. “What evidence?”
Anders grunted and turned away to look out into the back of the property.
“I’m not even sure I should be discussing this with you, Tito. It’s a breach of confidentiality, and I haven’t discussed it with Arabella yet.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’m the reason you’re even here right now,” Titus reminded him, scoffing. “Trust me, Bella doesn’t care what you tell me.”
Anders spun back to look at him. “Tito, I think you’re blinded by whatever resemblance this woman has to Isabella. You’re not acting rationally, and it’s going to affect not only your company, but your heart as well.”
Titus gaped at him. “Where is all this coming from? A week ago, you admitted that she was Isabella, too!”
“I said I could see the resemblance,” Anders said, “but obviously, she’s not the same person. She couldn’t be.”
“You don’t know anything about her!” Titus snapped.
“I know more than you,” Anders retorted. “That’s why I’m trying to warn you right now, if you’d just listen to what I’m saying instead of being defensive.”
Titus clamped his teeth together.
“Fine,” he growled. “Go ahead and tell me.”
Again, Anders looked uncomfortable, but he hesitatingly opened his mouth to speak.
“This new evidence,” he started, “is one of her accomplices claiming that Arabella is the mastermind behind the entire operation.”
Titus’ jaw dropped, and he stared at his brother for several seconds before erupting into laughter.
“And you took this guy’s word?” he demanded. “What if I talk to Botha and tell her that I’m the alien overlord and—”
“Would you listen to yourself?” Anders growled. “You’re irrational, not acting like yourself at all! I have heard the evidence, and I’m inclined to believe the witness.”
“You’re what?” Titus spat, disbelief coloring his face. “How can you say that?”
“I am still going to defend Arabella,” Anders said. “But I am warning you, Titus, there may be more to this girl than meets the eye.”
“Just get her the hell out of prison!” Titus yelled, his face flushed with fury. This was madness. There was no way that Bella had had anything to do with robbing the reserve. His brother didn’t know her like Titus did, but Bella didn’t have it in her.
He thought about the traitor who had turned on Bella despite her desire to keep all the other accomplices safe.
Skylar is a son of a bitch, he thought. He knew they would all turn on each other in the end while he’s off working on his next mark: me.
There was so much at stake; his company and Arabella’s freedom.
I don’t care about Williams Tech right now, he thought, pacing around the sitting room as his brother watched him silently, wisely holding his tongue. I can rebuild. I have done it before.
He didn’t want to admit that the idea of losing his pride and joy after the three-quarters of a century he had put into it filled him with nausea.
You can’t lose Isabella again, he decided. Even if I have to shift and steal her out of there. She is not going to waste away for something she did not do.
“Why are you still here?” Titus spat. “Shouldn’t you be preparing your defense?”
“I am waiting for a glimmer of rationality in your eyes, but I can see that’s not coming any time soon.” Anders rose from where he was perched on a wing chair, shaking his head. “I don’t want to see you disappointed and hurt.”
Titus scoffed. “It is not me who is going to be hurt,” he growled, his mind beginning to turn. “Just do your job, Anders.”
His brother did not reply, exiting the chicly-decorated sitting room.
I have to find Skylar, Titus thought tersely. And as many of the others as I can.
He didn’t have a second to consider how he was going to do that—Marta strolled in and handed him his ringing cellular phone.
“Not now,” he sighed, waving her away.
“I think you might want to take it,” she replied, extending her hand insistently. “He’s called six times in the past hour.”
“Who the hell is it?” He snatched the phone as it rang its last chime and saw the name on the screen.
Joseph Holte.
A knot formed in Titus’ belly.
I really don’t have time for this today, he thought furiously, but something told him he needed to return the call immediately. As Marta had said, there were half a dozen missed calls from him.
“Are you okay, Tito?” Marta asked.
“No!” he exploded. “I’m not okay! There is not one damned thing going right at the moment, but thank you for asking!” Marta’s mouth became a fine line of annoyance, and Titus was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It’s not your fault, obviously. My nerves are a little shot right now.”
“Yes, I can see that,” she said. “Come and have something to eat before you pass out. You haven’t eaten a bite since she got taken yesterday.”
Was that only yesterday? he asked himself. It feels like she’s been gone a month already. He thought about how scared and worried she must be alone in prison. I promised to protect her, and I failed. Does she hate me right now? Is she furious?
But Titus knew instinctively that she was not angry with him. She had always forgiven him for everything. She had always understood. Back then, he hadn’t had a choice—everything he’d done had been at the mercy of his father. Today he did have a choice, he had the world at his fingertips, and yet he was still powerless to be with her.
He followed Marta into the kitchen, where she had just pulled a plateful of sosaties from the barbecue. The smell of the skewered beef kabobs met his nose, and he suddenly realized just how hungry he was.
“Sit down,” Marta instructed. “I’ll get you a beer.” Titus nodded obligingly, grateful that she was there.
I have taken her for granted after all these years, he thought, blinking. She’s kept me afloat here, and I’ve barely lifted my eyes from my work. She and Solomon are getting a huge raise when this is all over and done with.
“Here,” she said, dropping a plate of rice and sosaties in from of him, a light ale following.
He sighed heavily. “Thank you, Marta,” he told her gruffly. “This is just what I need to get my head on straight right now.”
“I know,” she replied lightly. “Zeveli!”
“Cheers,” he chuckled, raising his bottle and placing it to his lips for a quick swig.
“Everything will work out,” Marta told him as she turned back to the counter. “You can’t run yourself ragged in the meantime.”
“You don’t know that,” he said, but before Marta could respond, his cell began to ring again. “Oh, come on!” Titus growled. “One minute of peace. I just want to eat, for the love of God!” He wiped his mouth hastily and tossed the linen aside, snatching the phone. “Joe, what is so urgent that you need to call me ten times in an hour?” he snapped, his patience gone.
“Well, maybe if you returned my calls you would know,” the chairman of the board replied evenly.
Titus stifled a sigh. “What do you want, Joe? This has been a very rough week. Can it wait until—?”
“Yes, I’ve heard about your rather complicated week,” Joe cut him off, his thick South African accent laced with disgust.
“What have you heard?”
“I heard that you bailed a known fugitive and computer hacker out of jail to shack up with you on your compound. Is that true or not?”
Titus inhaled. I should have seen this coming. I was just too distracted by everything else to do damage control.
“She’s an American citizen,” Titus tried to explain. “If she had been thrown into the system, she would never have been seen again. I felt bad for her.”
“Then you let the US embassy deal with it! I know you have done your philanthropy works, Titus, but this is just odd. You must admit.”
Titus chewed on his tongue and waited. Just get on with your damned reprimanding and let me finish my dinner! I have things to do! he thought, furious that he was made to endure a tongue lashing as if he was a small child.
But that was what he had to do sometimes to appease his investors.
There was not a business in the world that could be handled by one man. There was always a board of directors behind it.
“I also heard that you brought her to Williams’ headquarters. Is that true?”
Titus thought quickly, but he knew there was no point in denying it. He had not bothered to erase the surveillance video.
Trina ratted me out to the board, he thought. Oh, when I get my hands on her…
“Titus? Is that true?”
“Yes.”
There was a long, ominous silence.
“You brought a known hacker into our highly-secured building and gave her clearance?” Joe choked.
“You said you already knew that,” Titus replied nonchalantly. “Why do you sound so stunned now?”
“Because I can’t imagine why anyone would do something so blatantly stupid, so reckless, so—”
“I suppose you had not heard that we had already been hacked, then?” Titus said conversationally, and he heard Joe inhaled sharply.
“When? Who? By what?” the old man sputtered. “We have the most secure computers in the world! That is what we do!”
“Now you understand why I had to resort to desperate measures to see what happened. Our techs couldn’t determine the reason behind it, so—”
“How do you know that Arabella Pinot is not responsible for the hack?” Joe yelled, and Titus could almost see the vein in his bald head throbbing.
“You really do have no faith in my capacity as CEO, do you? The hack happened before Arabella appeared in the picture. Why do you think I took her in? I needed her help—for the company.”
The silence was deeper now, and Titus could hear the wheels turning in the old timer’s head.
“I see,” Joe said finally, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “What did she learn?”
“It’s ongoing, but we have the identity of the hacker.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t want to discuss the details right now, Joe, especially not on the phone.”
“Of course, of course. I—well, I’m sorry I doubted you, Titus. As you can imagine, we were all very concerned, and…” Joe didn’t finish his sentence. Clearing his throat again, he released a quick chuckle. “Well, it’s a pity she’s back in prison, but at least we have what we need, right?” Joe commented.
A burning anger smacked Titus in the face. A woman’s life and reputation are on the line, and your only concern is your damned image. “Anything else, Joe?”
“No. But do keep me updated about our culprit.”
“Goodbye, Joe.” He disconnected the call and cast the phone aside on the table.
For the first time, Titus realized his hands were shaking.
“Is that true?”
His head jerked up, and he looked at Marta, who stared at him as if he was a stranger. “What?”
“You only brought her here to help with your problem?” she asked him.
“Of course not,” he retorted, reaching for his fork.
“Then why did you bring her?” Titus watched her through his peripheral vision, slowly chewing.
“I felt like I needed to help her.” At least that part is true.
“Why did you lie to Holte?”
Under normal circumstances, he would have been irritated by her questions, but Marta did not usually pry.
She’s worried about Arabella, too, he realized. Titus placed the fork on the edge of the plate, his appetite suddenly gone. Nobody understands the way business works, he thought. She simply has no clue.
“Because if I didn’t come up with a plausible story for him, he and the board were going to ask me to step down as CEO.”
16
> An alarm blared through the prison, piercing through the blackness as the inmates jumped from their beds in the overcrowded cells.
“What is going on?” Ara cried, putting her hands over her ears to block the shrieking from bursting her eardrums.
“Fire alarm!” one of the women snapped at her. “Get by the doors!”
“It’s probably nothing, honey,” a blonde with pockmarks chuckled. “Every so often, the guards grab them when they’re having a quickie out near the back doors.”
But Ara knew that this was no false warning.
As they lined up against the bars, she suddenly smelled smoke, and sweat broke out over her forehead. She looked down at her white tank top, but in its place was a deep blue dress, falling in long folds to her ankles. Suddenly, she was aware of the weight on her head, and Ara’s hand flew up to touch the headdress she had come to identify.
The cries of indignant protests became screams of terror as the billowing choke of grey came seeping through the corridors.
“Let us out!” the women chanted in unison. “Unlock the doors!”
But as the clouds of smoke filled their lungs, Ara realized that there was no one to set them free.
Bloodcurdling shrieks met her ears and abruptly stopped.
She was alone in the cell, the women vanishing before her eyes.
“Hello!” she sobbed as tears began to stream down her face. “Hello, please help me! I can’t die here!”
A strange sound filled her ears, and while she expected it to be licks of fire coming to devour her whole, it sounded more like methodical footfalls: a dull, echoing thud.
“Hello?” she whispered, coughing slightly, her fingers curling around the bars. “Is anyone there?”
Ara saw him then, the glittering saffron eyes burning through the wispy tendrils, his leathery head high to the ceiling, despite his crouching stance. One claw extended the other, his gaze fixated on hers, and at once, peace eased through her, the panic forgotten. Pausing, he whirled his head to stare at her full on, mouth parting to reveal a glistening array of sharp, pointed fangs.