They walked to the reception where the same woman with dreads observed their approach. “Back for more?”
“I had so much fun last night, I just wanted to go again,” Annalise said and hugged Mavel’s arm to her chest.
He stiffened and drew her into an embrace. His soft lips descended on hers, giving her a light peck. “Anything you want, you’ll get.”
Blushing as if her face was about to explode, she swatted him playfully on the shoulder.
The flare cleared her throat, urging them to separate. “I am glad you had fun. Do you want to go for a repeat experience?”
“For this occasion, we need a room somewhere more private.” He winked at the receptionist.
“That can be arranged.” She activated the terminal on her desk and waved for Mavel to place his wrist comms on the scanner.
The payment went through, and Annalise let out a breath.
“Take the first turn left, and it’s room 1005 on the right at the end of the hall. If you see the VIP barrier, you’ve gone too far.” The mirror revealed the hallway again, and the flare winked at Mavel. “Would you like the same bonus as yesterday?”
He politely declined, but Annalise noticed his fists clenching as she said it. He was most likely still upset about it…
They made their way inside. Mavel kept his hand on the small of her back, making them look like any other couple on the surveillance cameras. They took the first left turn and found the designated room.
Lifting her eyes to the number plate, she snorted. “Think we got a bonus room with music for coming back here?”
He shook his head. “Let’s go in. The others will be entering shortly.”
She closed the door behind her and peered at him. Too many things were left unspoken. She needed to clear the air, so they could work together like before. “I know what I did to you was wrong. I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t in control…”
“Anna, please let’s not talk about that right now.”
Her anger sparked to life at his dismissal of the matter, and she grasped his grey shirt. “Then when can we talk about it? I know you’re mad at me. I’ve already apologised more than once. What do you want me to do for you to forgive and forget?”
Mavel ruffled her hair. “I’m not angry with you. I’m mad at myself. I should have left you in the room until you overcame the flare’s control. I should have pushed you away but couldn’t—” He paused as if thinking about what to say next. “There’s nothing to forgive or forget.”
Her jaw almost dropped to the floor. What happened between them meant so little to him? It was just another job, an order she had given, and he complied with. She backed out of his reach, ashamed of her actions. “I see…”
Her wrist comms activated, and Jamen’s voice came through. “We’re going in. You may begin your search.”
They didn’t have the time for her to fall apart here. She steeled herself for the task ahead.
Mavel was already gripping the door handle. They sneaked out and listened for any movement around them. Ahead, another glass door with a neon sign read “VIP” above it. For such an important area, there wasn’t a single guard. This unnerved her.
“I will check this section. You go check the other rooms and the dance floor.”
He scowled at her. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
“We shouldn’t fight here. Go. I’ll be fine. I’ve got a gun, remember?”
“I fear that you may end up using it.”
“Get going.” She pushed him away from her.
With the corners of his mouth downturned, he listened, heading back in the direction of where they came from.
Annalise checked her comms. She had no more than ten minutes till the staff figured out something was off. Slipping through the VIP door, she followed the hallway until it split into two. It was quiet. Not even the faint music from the club filtered in after the door shut behind her.
She chose left and peered inside the first room with a number plate. Empty. The next was empty, too, and the next. There were two left in this section. After giving a peek into the second last room, she mumbled a curse—nothing.
Annalise edged closer to the final room in this part of the building. It had a brass plaque on the door only, instead of numbers, it had the embossed words “Millennium Suite” on it. She pressed on the handle, pushing the door open a crack.
Deep voices caused her to hold her breath. With a steady hand, she drew her gun out and nudged the door enough for her to see the dark wood and red velvet interior better. Two men held a muffled conversation inside. A half-dressed, older man in his late fifties—judging by his grey hair and a number of creases etched into his round face—moved his arms around as he voiced his orders. The second man who was listening to him was younger, fully clothed in a business suit. He appeared more like a bodyguard with the way his posture radiated attention to his surroundings.
Annalise’s stomach sank further when her eyes found a woman cuffed to the metal rings in the far wall with modified-titanium handcuffs. Those were issued by the DPD and the military in case riots broke out, or they needed to contain a possessed beast. How did they get their hands on them?
To calm her raging heart, Annalise pressed her back to the wall. There were just the two of them. I can do this. I have to…
A hand came out of nowhere and curled around her throat. She struggled against the assailant, almost dropping her weapon.
The bodyguard lifted her off the ground and slammed her back against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. He grasped her wrist, keeping her from aiming her gun at him.
“Who do we have here?” He carried her suspended body into the suite. “Did Lloyd send you after us?”
“I’m with…HPD,” she managed between gasps.
He jerked the weapon out of her hands and tossed her to the ground.
Annalise landed on her side and winced. Her wrists and palms ached from the burn of the carpet. When she lifted her head, there was something familiar about the older man.
Her eyes bulged with recognition. “You’re Ray Dawson! You’re part of the Anti-Modded Party.”
During the last political group gathering she was forced to attend, she saw him talking to her father briefly. What was he doing here?
Dawson’s features contorted with anger, and he glanced at his bodyguard. “She knows who I am. Get rid of her and this beast.”
9
Between Life & Death
Annalise stared at him. The strip along the barrel of her gun changed to red the second the bodyguard held it. Finding it useless, he threw it aside and took out his pistol, pointing it at her chest. Her body was paralysed. At the same time, AID flagged a message on her wrist comms, stating that her gun was compromised. If she wasn’t fearing for her life, she would have laughed.
Why can’t I move?
People always said life was supposed to flash in front of one’s eyes when faced with imminent death. Sadly, such was not what happened to her. Annalise’s mind turned blank, her heart rattled in the confines of her ribcage, and her palms perspired as if every water molecule wished to evacuate at once. She remained stock-still, staring down the barrel of his weapon, unable to recall a single piece of training she had received in that strained second.
She wanted to move, silently pleaded with her stiff limbs to grapple for the weapon. When the gun fired with a loud bang, she shifted unconsciously. The bullet cut through the still air and pierced her shoulder.
A cry of agony parted her lips, and her paralysis lifted. Annalise ducked and, balancing on her healthy arm, swept his legs from underneath him with her leg. The bodyguard let out a surprised yelp as he fell.
She scrambled in search of her gun. There was little time to get to it at the other end of the room. So, she dismissed the idea.
He pointed the pistol at her again, and she dove forwards, landing on top of him with her elbow buried just below his ribs. She forced
the air out of his lungs. The man gasped, and she straddled his chest. She grasped his wrist and slammed it against the ground until his fingers uncurled around the grip of the gun.
Too focused on disarmament, she didn’t notice his other hand lunging for her head. He caught her by the hair and tugged hard, yanking a few strands out.
She hissed in pain. Fighting the urge to massage her scalp, she hit his Adam’s apple with the side of her flattened hand.
His hold loosened as he choked out a curse.
Not waiting for him to recover, Annalise stood and kicked him in the groin.
An ear-piercing howl of agony erupted from him. He folded into a foetal position and protected his damaged goods. While he rolled around on the spot, she kicked away his handgun. Her pistol wasn’t too far away now. She picked it up and holstered it.
Ray Dawson had escaped sometime between her being shot and her retrieving her weapon. Her eyes darted to the hostage cuffed to the wall. She was naked. Raw whip marks marred her bare back. Annalise edged closer and lifted her face.
Two silver eyes looked at her with hope and a little apprehension.
“Are you Leila?”
The woman gave her a weak nod and that was enough for Annalise. She had her suspect, although Leila didn’t appear possessed or like she had any energy to murder her contractual master for that matter.
Annalise tugged at the restraints above the woman’s head. They wouldn’t budge. She ran to the bodyguard who seemed unconscious from the pain. Perhaps, it was for the best. She searched his pockets, finding a set of keys, and returned to Leila.
“I’m going to get you out of here.” The pain throbbed in Annalise’s shoulder. Her adrenaline was beginning to wear off.
Leila studied her from under the heavy lids. “Robert, Terry… Are they alright?”
As Annalise worked on the cuffs, she tried maintaining a neutral expression. What kind of woman worried about the family that abandoned her in a place like this?
“They’re fine,” she lied. There was no point in telling Leila anything else until they arrived at the police station.
The handcuffs fell away from her scrawny wrists, and the beast collapsed to her knees. Annalise slung Leila’s arm over her shoulders, lifting the woman up. The weight of another human being pressed on Annalise’s bleeding wound. She ground her teeth together as the searing pain made her legs tremble.
One step, two steps, she mentally counted and staggered towards the door. They reached the middle of the room, and the bodyguard stirred.
Red-faced, he rolled over, aiming his backup gun at her.
It all happened so fast. She didn’t have time to blink. The bullet was fired, and Leila pushed her out of the way. As Annalise stumbled backwards, Leila clutched at the entry wound on her chest.
“Tell Robert I love him,” Leila whispered, and her legs gave way.
“Leila!”
The door burst open, and Mavel ran inside. She was too busy to notice what he did since her attention was solely on Leila’s limp body. On her hands and knees, she crawled towards the bleeding woman. Annalise covered the gunshot wound directly over the beast’s heart with her hands in a futile attempt to stop more blood from flowing out.
“It is too late,” the voice at the back of her mind told her, but she shook her head and cried out the woman’s name again, louder this time. Leila couldn’t die here. She was her suspect. She was supposed to come with her to the station and answer her questions.
Strong arms wound around her. Only then, she noted she was trembling.
Mavel wordlessly drew her into his chest. Without further ado, she permitted her confusion and tears to drench his shirt.
Annalise stared at the crack in the linoleum of the HPD office. How long had it been there? Why hadn’t she noticed it before? If someone didn’t look into this problem, they would have people tripping over the folds if the gap expanded.
The hot mug in her hands burned her skin, but it was the only thing keeping her warm even though Mavel had wrapped his jacket around her shoulders after she got looked at by an EMT. Luckily, the bullet was a through and through. They stitched her up in an ambulance, put healing gel on the wound, and covered it with oversized gauze.
While she was treated, she watched Leila’s body being bagged and tagged. It was her fault Leila was killed. She was an officer of the law. It was her duty to protect that beast. Yet, why did that woman take a bullet for a pureblood?
“Is she alright?” Rios asked.
“She’s in shock. I will take her home and see to her,” Mavel replied.
“Make sure we receive a statement as soon as she’s able to speak in coherent sentences,” Chief ordered.
A heavy arm draped around her back. Lifting her attention from the crack in the floor, she found Mavel looking at her with concern. He took her cup away. “Let’s go home, Anna.”
She nodded, or she thought she did. Her limbs didn’t seem to want to listen to her anymore as he helped her stand. Mavel guided her to the lifts and out of the DPD building. He strapped her in the passenger seat of her car. After he retreated, she studied her fingernails. They were dirty. Dried blood managed to gather under her nails, but she wasn’t certain if it was hers or Leila’s.
The next thing she knew, Mavel was already unlocking the front door to her apartment. He helped her out of his jacket and led her to the couch in the living room where he sat her down.
“Do you want anything to eat or drink?”
Annalise shook her head, returning her attention to her nails. She picked the dirt out from under them. Maybe if she removed all of the traces of today, things would go back to how there were that morning. Leila would still be alive.
Her hands started shaking. She should have let Mavel come with her. He would have been able to save Robert’s beast and everything would have worked out. She was too proud—much like her father.
Mavel touched her cheek and wiped the tears away.
When did he get so close?
He drew her into another hug and stretched their bodies on the couch. His warmth welcomed her and, as she snuggled in closer, he ran his fingers through her hair.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered into her ear.
She hiccupped and more tears poured out against her will. “She died…”
“No one lives forever, Anna. One day, you and I will leave this place and, hopefully, arrive in a better world.”
She grasped his shirt and let her stress seep out. “I could have saved—”
Mavel pressed his finger against her lips, silencing her. “Hush. Leave it behind you for now and get some rest.”
Slowly, she pressed her ear to his broad chest. His strong heartbeat pumped with every contraction of his heart’s valves. He was warm and alive. After a few minutes, the heat he radiated helped lull her closer to sleep.
“Goodnight, Anna,” he whispered, and her consciousness abandoned her.
Ray Dawson sat in his office chair with his elbows resting on his desk and his fingers intertwined together. He smirked, and rage budded inside of her.
Her hands folded into fists. “You killed her!”
“I believe you did, Detective Storm. You held the gun to her and fired, or did you forget?”
She wanted to take a step towards him, but her feet wouldn’t move. Looking down confirmed her fear. Her feet were held in place by titanium shackles binding her ankles together. In an attempt to break out, she reached downwards. Suddenly, her hands were confined, too.
The office morphed into the Millennium Suite, and she stood there with her gun drawn and pointed at the helpless, wounded beast wearing a simple summer dress. Leila’s eyes were sad as if she had already resigned herself to her fate.
“Tell Robert I love him,” Leila whispered.
The gunshot deafened Annalise. A bullet lodged in Leila’s chest, leaving a tiny hole behind. Ruby liquid painted her lily-white dress and her eyes glaze
d over. With a vacant look, she collapsed.
“Leila!” Annalise yelled.
Two strong hands wrapped around her upper arms in an iron grasp and shook her.
“Anna! Anna, wake up!” Mavel shouted.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she sat rod-straight, nearly head-butting him. Heaving breaths came in rapid succession. Drenched clothes clung to her chilled skin, and she shivered.
“It was just a dream,” he repeated over and over again.
She clutched her stuffy chest. As much as she wanted this scenario to be a mere illusion, she knew it was real. She was the reason Leila died. If it wasn’t for her stubbornness, that beast would still be alive.
“Anna, look at me. Focus on me,” Mavel said.
Their gazes locked, and she mimicked his breathing until she calmed down.
He hugged her, causing her shoulder to hurt, but she didn’t complain. His presence kept her sane, and his warmth cast away the chill clinging to her clammy skin.
Twenty minutes later, she was sitting in a bath. Mavel left her alone, saying he would prepare their breakfast. For some reason, she couldn’t feel the heat from the water, nor could she enjoy the fluffiness of the towel wrapped around her after she climbed out of the tub.
Annalise wandered back into her room. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she assessed her nails. Mavel reappeared shortly after and helped her get dressed. He took her by the hand, bringing her to the kitchen where her breakfast awaited her.
“Eat,” he ordered and passed her the fork.
She accepted it. “Mavel, did I kill Leila?”
He let out a mild cuss and lifted her chin. “You did not kill her, but whoever hired the man in a suit did.”
Her face paled. “Dawson.”
“What did you say?”
She placed her fork on her plate and met his questioning stare. “Ray Dawson—one of the Anti-Modded Party’s politicians—was there. He was the one who tried to get us killed.”
“He wasn’t on any of the security feeds. Are you certain of this?”
Case 0 Page 8