by Rowena
Cold chills run through me as he says the name.
“You can’t be serious,” I say, knowing damned well he is.
“Oh yes, very serious.”
“You know what he does to girls?” I ask.
Father grins. “Did I say your deeds would go unpunished?”
My muscles quake with anger and fear.
“He’s a worse monster than you!” I say. “I’m your daughter!”
“Who betrayed me.”
“You said I played a role!”
“The fact that I was perceptive enough to use you doesn’t change the fact of your betrayal. I’ve tolerated your bullheaded attitude for entirely too long. I believe McLean’s particular skills will be sufficient to break that unacceptable trait.”
“You can’t. You won’t!” I say, willing away the tears adamant about springing to my eyes.
Father smiles and it turns me cold.
15
Donnie
Max shifts side to side, staring at the ground.
I watch him from the chair, debating what to say.
“Why, Max?” I ask finally.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he says so softly I have to strain to hear him speak.
“There’s always a choice, Max. Always.”
“No.” He shakes his head violently as his shoulders shudder, and I hear the sounds of him crying.
Francesca is dead. My men are dead, and it’s his fault. He betrayed me instead of coming to me for help.
I stand then stalk toward the bars, wishing he was close enough so I could hurt him, make him feel the pain I feel inside.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids, Max. I’ve always looked out for you. How could you do this to me?”
“Friends? Is that what you call it?” he spits, looking up. I see rage in his eyes behind the tears. He’s shaking he’s so angry. “You don’t even know me!”
“How can you say that?” I say.
“Because what do you know about me? Really know about me? What’s my favorite game? What color do I like? What do I like to drink?”
“Who gives a shit what your favorite game is?” I yell. “What does it matter? It’s a fucking game, Max. You like black—you wear it all the time. What do you like to drink? Why the fuck would I know that? I’m your friend, not your housewife.”
“Fuck you, Donnie!” he screams, his voice cracking.
“Fuck me? Fuck me? You killed Francesca! Every one of my men who died tonight is on you, Max. Every one of them. Your betrayal cost us everything!”
“You wouldn’t have anything if not for me!”
“Why the fuck did I bring you home?” I growl. “How many times have I stood up for you? For what? So you could fuck me in the end?”
“Why did you? You never liked me, not really. I make you look better, that’s why. You used me. Now I make you lots of money. The hell do I need you for?”
“Used you? What the fuck does that mean?”
“Oh, that’s just my friend Maxwell. I stand up for him because it makes me look badass. You made me look weak!”
“You were weak, Max, and you know it. I didn’t stand up to those bullies because I had to or needed you to make me look better. I did it because I cared about you!”
“Sure. That’s what they always say, but you don’t understand,” he says, tears streaming down his face.
Fury runs cold and then I’m empty, left with knowing he betrayed me. My best friend—my brother—betrayed me and I don’t understand. I thought I knew him. I trusted him with my life in every way and this is what I get.
I can’t look at him anymore.
I turn and walk back to the chair which fell over when I jumped up.
I sit it upright then bend, resting my arms on my legs so that I’m leaning forward and staring at the floor.
All my men are dead. Francesca is dead. The only ones alive are Max and Bella.
The weight of it all suddenly settles on me like a massive stone.
“Why, Max?” I ask again, speaking softly. No more yelling, no more anger.
Max sniffs and sobs so I wait for him to regain control of himself.
He moves closer to the bars and leans against the cage.
“I’m sorry,” he says at last, and his voice conveys anguish.
“What does he have on you?”
“My girlfriend,” he says.
“You have a girlfriend?” I ask in surprise. “A real life girl?”
“Yes,” he says, glaring at me.
“Sorry, it’s just… you’re always on the computer and… ” I trail off, realizing I’m being an ass.
“It’s fine,” he says, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “What else could I expect? This is what I mean, Donnie. You don’t know me—not anymore. We’re not close—if we ever were. We’re just too different.”
“Tell me about her,” I say, ignoring his hurtful words. “What’s she like? How did you meet?”
He relaxes a bit.
“She’s amazing. Kind, smart, funny. And damn, she’s an amazing healer.”
“A healer?” I ask, confused. “Is she a doctor?”
“No! In Warcraft. She’s a healer in my raid group. She’s ranked as one of the best in the world.”
“Oh. Wow,” I say with no idea what the hell he’s talking about.
“Yeah, and she’s so nice,” he says, sobbing again.
“So you met… on the game?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“Are you sure she’s a… you know, a girl?” I ask, thinking of all the stories of guys who get bait-and-switched.
“It’s not a catfish!” he yells.
“A what?”
“A catfish—where they bait and switch you,” he explains.
I shake my head. “Well, that’s good,” I say.
“We’ve been dating for six months. We met live at a Con and really hit it off,” he says.
“And Emilio threatened her?” I ask.
“He didn’t threaten her, Donnie. That wouldn’t have done it and you know it! I love you, man; you’re my brother. I wouldn’t betray you over a threat!”
I look up and see the sincerity in his face and eyes.
“What then?” I ask.
“He kidnapped her!” Tears flow down his face.
A punch to the gut couldn’t have hurt worse. The air is too thin in the room. His pain is too obvious, too blatant.
I go to him.
Reaching through the bars, I hold him and he cries.
He dissolves into racking sobs as his emotions overwhelm him, and my eyes water.
“You should have told me,” I say, barely above a whisper.
“I couldn’t,” he sobs. “He’d kill her.”
“We could have figured it out. You just… you should have come to me, Max.”
“I know. I was so scared,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t bring back Francesca,” I say, my heart feeling like it could break, thinking of her loss. “Or the others.”
“Why do you always worry so much about them? He’s going to kill you. It’s going to be horrible and you’re upset about your guys.”
“How can I not be?” I ask. “They were loyal to me. They counted on me to care for them, to help them make their livings, and to keep them alive. The point of all of this was so that the war with Emilio would be over. I don’t want the bloodshed anymore.”
Max stares at me, shaking his head.
“I’ve never understood you,” he says. “I admire it, love it about you, but I never understood it.”
“Max, what are you talking about?”
“She’s not dead,” he says.
“What?” I almost shout.
“She’s alive. She got away. All the others have joined with Emilio. He gave them the choice. The only ones who died are the pickup team members at the docks.”
“You’re kidding me,” I say, not daring to believe it.
Max shakes his head.
/>
My mind goes into high gear.
This is the opportunity I was looking for. If Francesca is out there and alive and my men have been taken into Emilio’s family, then I can turn this around.
“I’m not kidding,” he says.
“I could kiss you! We haven’t lost yet!”
“Hey, thanks but no,” Max says, smiling, and for the first time in a long time, I see a bit of the old Maxwell.
I smile and mess his hair up.
“I’ve got an idea,” he says. “I can get you out of here.”
“Can you? I don’t want you drawing attention to yourself.”
“I can do it. The guy spends tons of money and has all the latest gadgets. This place is super high-tech on security and not one of them understands it or how to use it. I know them all so I can hack them easily. They’ll never know it was me.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging.
“Okay, once I’m out of here, I’ll have to gather some forces then I’ll come back for you and the others.”
“Don’t forget me, Donnie,” he pleads. “He still has my girlfriend.”
“He has my woman too. I won’t leave you behind. You’re my friend, Max—more than that. You know that.”
He nods, frowning.
“I’m going to kill the power. When I do, this cage will unlock. You’ll have five minutes to get out of here. Out that door, turn right, then left at the end of the hall. Up the stairs then the back door is two lefts and a right. Go quick, the men are armed and will be running like crazy while they try to figure their shit out.”
“Thanks, Max, I’ll come back for you. Can you figure out which of our men are still loyal and spread the word?”
“Yeah,” he says, walking toward the door. He stops, touching the door handle. “I’m sorry, Donnie. I… I had to save her.”
“I understand, Max. It’s okay.”
“Thanks, man,” he says
“Say, do you know which room Bella is in?”
“You can’t save her, Donnie.”
I smile. “You let me worry about that. Do you know which room is hers?”
He shakes his head, bites his lip, then sighs and tells me. Then he’s out the door.
I sit back and wait.
Part III
A New Dawn
16
Isabella
The lock on the door clicks as it turns into place.
As I stare at the wooden door, it hits me that I’m a prisoner.
Was I ever free? Have I really been manipulated by the monster that is my father all this time? Am I the cause of Donnie’s failure?
Every part of me hurts.
I’m filled with black despair so deep, it feels like it’s part of my bones.
Nothing matters.
My father is going to kill Donnie, but first, he’ll torture him. Knowing my father, I’ll be forced to watch.
He’s psychotic, a sociopath. There is no hope.
I look around my room, trying to spot anything that could be helpful.
Nothing.
I’ve kept my room sparse most of my life. Early lessons taught me that becoming too attached to anything was the same as handing a weapon to my enemies.
As a child, I had a favorite doll—Miss Betsy. I carried her everywhere, slept with her. She sat on the toilet while I bathed.
Then one day my father became angry with me—I don’t even remember the reason why—and grabbed Miss Betsy from my hands, holding her hostage just outside the reach of my grasping fingers while screaming at me. He tore her to shreds then threw the pieces back at me. I was just six.
It happened to me so many times since then, I learned not to have things. Prized possessions can be used against you.
So my room is empty. Minimal decor, minimal furniture. Nothing that could be useful in breaking out.
Feeling overwhelmed, I walk to the bed and sit.
My eyes drift to the jewelry box on my nightstand, the only thing my mother left behind for me, and the one thing that my father has never had the gall to take away.
Grabbing it, I open the lid and dump the contents onto the bed.
It’s filled with costume jewelry that my mom collected when she and my father first started dating. Neither of them had money then, so it’s all cheap, fake stuff.
Sorting through it, I spot a butterfly brooch. I pluck it out quickly, admiring its symmetry, thinking about its symbolism. Here I am, a caterpillar stuck in my cocoon, locked in my room. If this thing does what I want, I’ll be able to break free and become a butterfly too.
I kneel in front of the door, inserting the stick of the brooch and fiddling with the mechanisms. I’m not exactly proficient at lock-picking, but it’s still a skill I have. There are some benefits to growing up in this house.
I curse softly as the pin slips.
I pull the pin out and start over, biting my lip. This time, I’m rewarded with a soft click and the lock lets go.
Holding my breath, I crack the door open.
It’s all I need to see—there’s a guard posted outside my door.
Shit.
I close the door and wait to see if the guard noticed it open or heard the lock click, but nothing happens.
Okay, so far so good, but what next?
I can’t overpower that guy—he’s huge!
How do I get past all the guards to the basement, free Donnie, and escape?
It’s too much for one person to do.
The stress and worry are making me tired, so I lie down on my bed to think it over.
I don’t know how long I lie there, staring at the ceiling, when the lights go out.
My room goes black then the moonlight from outside illuminates the room in a silvery glow as my eyes adjust.
Outside my room, I hear people running, and then there’s a soft pop that sounds like gunfire in the distance.
I leap off the bed then crack my door open again.
The guard is still there but now he has his weapon drawn.
He’s looking side to side, then he moves down the hall out of sight.
Hoping he’s gone, I stick my head out into the hall.
“Get back in there!” he yells, heading back toward me. “We’re under attack!”
I don’t have time to retreat again before he shoves me roughly behind the door and slams it shut.
The lock turns and clicks back into place.
Great, I’m stuck again, and now I have no idea what’s going on.
Leaning against the door, I listen, trying to figure out what’s happening by the sounds.
There—more gunshots, I’m sure of it.
Someone screams, then there’s another round of popping and the scream stops.
Oh god, is someone trying to rescue Donnie? Is he hurt?
I couldn’t handle it if anything happens to him! I need him to be okay.
Please, please, please be okay!
Silence reigns outside.
There’s something that might be people running, but it’s so faint, I can’t be sure.
Then something taps my window and I jump while yelping at the same time.
My heart feels like it’s blocking my throat.
The tap comes again and I walk over slowly, scared. So scared I can barely force my legs to move.
Standing at the edge of the window, I peek around the corner, afraid of what I might see.
I look down into the dark yard and see Donnie throwing a rock up, tapping my window again.
I unlock the window then throw it open, resisting my urge to scream his name while jumping at the same time.
I lean way out and he lowers his hand, grinning.
He looks around quickly then back up at me.
“How did you… ?” I begin.
“No time. I’ll come back for you. Believe me, I’m coming back for all of you!”
“You can’t! Just run! Get out of here before they catch you!”
“I’m fine,
” he says. “Don’t forget, I’m coming for you. I’ll be back.”
“Be careful!” I yell, then I scream and duck instinctively as a shot rings out across the yard.
Donnie ducks and looks around.
He pulls a pistol from behind him and takes aim from a crouch.
Another shot cracks through the night while he aims then fires. In the distance, someone cries out in pain.
Donnie smiles and looks up at me.
“I’ll be back,” he repeats. “I promise.”
My tears fall in a flood, I’m so relieved and overwhelmed.
Every part of me wants to jump down to him, but there’s no way I’d be able to run with him if I did.
“Run, Donnie, just run,” I say.
He nods and turns as more shots echo across the yard.
My body reacts, tensing and ducking with each shot fired.
Donnie runs across the grounds, dodging around a tree.
As he ducks behind it, a bullet hits and a chunk of the tree explodes where he had been standing a moment before.
A scream of fear rips its way out from deep in my belly.
Did he get hit?
His head pops out from behind the tree and relief floods me.
He grins and waves then runs at a sprint until I can’t see him any longer.
“Impressive,” my father says from behind me.
I jump around to face him, my heart pounding with fear, and my body braces for an incoming blow.
Pleasure shines in his eyes at my reaction; fear pleases his cruel streak.
“He got away,” I say defiantly.
“For now,” he says. “I’m surprised you haven’t given up on him yet.”
“I won’t,” I say.
Father shakes his head. “Sad, really. I tried to raise you to be strong.”
“You have no idea what real strength is,” I say.
He storms toward me with his hands balled into fists and I brace myself for impact.
I’m beyond caring now. He can hurt my body but he can’t hurt me anymore. Donnie is out there, free, so nothing that happens here matters. He’ll come back for me; I know it in the depths of my soul.
“I’ll show you strength,” my father growls, his face so close to mine, the onions on his breath are overwhelming. “You have no idea. Callum will put you in your place.”