Page 118 of Shattered Veil

“Ah! Wha—”

Any sound I made was muffled by the cold, wet fabric, and my breath, which had turned to a staccato rhythm, quickened further. Droplets from the towel dripped into my mouth—down my throat with every inhale—pulling air through my nose instead offered no escape, and the horror of oxygen being stolen from me made my chest heave to no avail. I screamed through the material. I tried to plead no.

Randy still remained silent, though, and all that reached my ears was the quiet cracking of plastic before the water hit me.

And I was drowning.

Chapter 22

Cassie

In my humble opinion, hysterics would have been appropriate.

And I wanted to be hysterical. I wanted to yell—to scream—to cry out in the act of a woman scorned because it felt as though he were forcibly taken from me. As if he were ripped from my hands. It was an asinine notion, and I knew that it was unreasonable…but it was James. Through anything chaotic that had happened as of late, there was no question as to whether he would inevitably run to my side because he was my constant. And not knowing where he was—realizing that he was not, in fact, on his way to bound right through the front door and yank me into his arms—had left my chest slashed open. With my heart somehow still beating despite being exposed to the elements, each passing second was sheer agony.

I couldn’t fall into hysterics, though. Not when it seemed like he was just out of my reach.

Zoey had rushed to 3C to pound on Luke and Claire’s door. According to her, she had given them no hint as to why they were needed with us in 2B, but with the perpetually alarmed expression she was wearing and the cryptic call she had earlier with Claire, I was certain that they had managed to connect a few dots. They arrived with her, looking expectant and carrying themselves carefully—similarly to one preparing for an upcoming storm to meet them head-on.

Though I hadn’t gone into the background detail that I had with Zoey regarding my relationship with James because it now felt…pointless, I had explained our concern away quickly.

Luke was quiet—absorbing it all as if the information had stripped his lungs of air. His jaw eventually went slack, and he whispered a sharp, “God fucking dammit,” before spinning one-hundred and eighty degrees from where he stood and walking wherever his feet would take him within the kitchen.

While Claire had also looked to us, aghast, she still managed to narrow her eyes and question details with a lightly asked, “How…” or “Why…” but Zoey was there, rapidly butting into the conversation with quiet hisses of her name accompanied with a curt shake of her head. Claire’s inquisition ceased rather quickly, then. Whether she put two and two together regarding my relationship with Jay or not, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that after she had clearly assessed Luke’s well-being and determined that he thoroughly needed to be left to his own thoughts and rapid footwork, she had eyed me up and down. Obviously recognizing my panic regarding the situation at hand, she coaxed me into sitting with her on the couch.

I had obliged, if only for a moment, and she had sat with me while comfortingly stroking a hand up and down my back. She spoke nervous reassurances that she was sure James was fine to the entire room. Luke vehemently disagreed, and Zoey remained silent as she returned to her spot at the kitchen table to open the laptop. I could only manage to rest for so long, and it wasn’t that I didn't welcome her comfort—I did, truly, and she had given me a tight-lipped smile that had shown she knew my appreciation without having to speak it—it was simply that I was far more than restless. Far more than anxious. Far more than panicked, believe it or not. My heart had ceased its pounding, and I had grown accustomed to the horrid sensation of dread that was steadily poisoning me. It wasn’t long until I stood and mimicked Luke. With shaking fingers and paces that stomped back and forth along the coffee table by the couch, I just…started to walk.

Claire remained on the couch with her spine straight and her eyes wide as she rapidly offered explanations as to where James could be. I consistently batted them away with various reasonings, and Luke would respond with a grunt and an agreeing stab of his index finger in my direction. In the short minutes that had passed, my line of sight was not on either of them, though. Nor was it on Zoey, who was still squinting at the computer screen as if it would provide us with more information. All I could see was the clock beyond the table at which Zoey sat.

It was approaching eleven o’clock now, and the only thing repeating in my mind was that it had been three hours since I spoke with James last.

He had been missing for three hours.

“Okay…one more time, Cas?” Luke spoke while still maintaining his quick strides.

He looked so very like his brother in this moment with his alarmed, light eyes darting around the room—the same grey as James’ and tinged with a familiar anxiety. His hair entirely free of its usual product and hanging loose down to his cheekbones. A smattering of stubble that he had yet to shave. The thought made a metaphorical knife lodge in my gut and stay there.

I looked to the ceiling as I replied to him, “He left for work. I called him while he drove. He was totally fine.” I rubbed at my eyes, for they had begun to burn again. I noted that my face had consistently remained damp, though I had little headspace to give a damn. “He said he’d let me know when he got to work—he didn’t. I texted him. The messages I’ve gotten from him in the meantime are clearly not him. His location’s turned off, his car’s on the side of the fucking highway, and he’s not at work.” I hesitated for a moment, let my hands fall away from my face, and murmured to myself more than anyone else, “He’s just…gone.”

Luke exhaled heavily, halting his steps, and I followed suit as our eyes locked.

He and I always had an interesting relationship. Naturally, I had spent time with Claire and Zoey over the past few months—an occasional dinner here or there was altogether nice, and I found that I fit right in. Luke, though…he had more or less lingered in the background of my life. We had shared many conversations to the point that I felt like I knew him—his likes and dislikes, how he would react when placed in certain situations, and so on—but we weren’t tied at the hip by any means. That aside, he looked at me now as if he could see right through me. As if, without a single question about my closeness with James, he fully understood, well, everything.

I didn’t know why. Perhaps it was a Turner thing, but I didn’t mind that in the least.

I could go on about how I did mind—well, truly hated is a better term—that it seemed as though my and James’ privacy bubble had been forcefully popped. That it wasn’t by the inquisitive nature of our friends nor the concern that James had over my brother’s reaction, both of which I had happily anticipated at this point. But no…the horror that we knew had been hiding in the background had done it for us. And despite the fact that I truthfully had no idea if Claire or Luke really knew about us, it still felt like our bubble was no longer because there was no room to speak of it. Our collective anxiety rendered the mention of it moot.

And none of that mattered. I quickly buried the split-second of a thought that was spurred by Luke’s familiar grey eyes because he looked to be priming himself to speak again.

“There’s got to be some…some sort of trail,” Luke said with what seemed like an attempt at conviction. “Something we can give the cops to find him without—without outing all the other shit—and you’re saying Colton called you right after? Is no one else thinking that’s really fuckin’ coincidental?”

Claire griped, “Luke.”

“Nuh uh.” He waggled a finger in her direction. “You’re a forgiving person, Claire—I get it. And I love that about you. I do. But—”

“But Colt was a manipulative shithead at the tail-end of me dating him?” she finished for him with an eyebrow cocked up high. Luke sighed as he looked to her, and she continued, “Yeah. He was. He did whatever he had to do to make more and more money—”

Luke cut in, “At the expense of those he claimed that he cared for.”

---