Page 95 of Chase

“Find the other two,” the man in charge says. I hope Damon and Harrison manage to find something before being caught. Not knowing what we’re walking into, having them free could save all our lives. “Bring them all to the theater.” My ears perk up at the word theater, confused about where that could be. We follow the men through the maze of corridors with cracked plaster and smears of God knows what.

After walking what feels like an age, we come across a room in the very center of the building that looks to be renovated. As we step through the doors, I’m met with the pungent smell of bleach. The lights are on, and the white room is lit up bright. More men appear, grabbing Hunter and my arms again then training a gun on each of our foreheads.

“Search them,” the chief goon orders. “Remove all their weapons. Check everywhere; it wouldn’t surprise me if that lunatic had a blade lodged up his arse.” He signals to Hunter, who grins.

“Give me a thrill and check for yourself,” he says with a wink.

Our weapons are pulled from their hiding places and thrown into a pile at the boss’s feet. They find every gun and knife strapped to us, hidden from view—even the small blades lodged in the sole of Hunter’s shoes. We can only hope they haven’t found Damon and Harrison yet.

“What is this place?” I ask the men, once their search is complete.

“Your viewing area,” one man replies, then the doors slam closed, and I hear the bolt slide over.

“Fuck, they’ve locked us in,” I snap, running to the exit and pulling lamely on the handle.

“Chase, forget that and come here. We’ve found him.” Hunter walks to the other side of the room, a large window facing further into the building. I join him to look through the glass, but I see nothing like I could have predicted.

Connor is lying on a hospital bed in the center, a drip attached to his hand and a monitor blinking beside him. A door opens on the other side, and Josephine Rivera walks in. I lift a hand and bang on the glass. Her eyes pop up momentarily, then she returns to tending to my brother’s arm.

“Josie,” I shout, hammering the divider again. She keeps her eyes fixed on Connor. “Fuck, we need to get in there.” I scan our cell looking for anything to smash the glass, but it’s empty. Just then, the doors we entered through open once more and two of the men who brought us here step through.

“Follow us,” they say in unison, raising their guns and gesturing for us to exit into the corridor. They direct us down the murky passageway, then through a door on the left into another pristine hospital room.

It takes me a moment to process who the man in the bed is, my mind struggling to connect the seemingly unconnected dots. My father lifts his head and attempts a smile. Happiness never suited him. He’s old and worn, a sliver of the man I saw earlier this year.

“Hello, son,” he croaks. “I am so glad you could join us for the monumental day.” The man standing beside him steps forward and smiles. I recognize him too. Aiden “Fucking” Marley, the bastard who broke my sister's heart and made her life hell. Of all the people in the world, these two are the ones with who I have the most unfinished business.

“You mean the day you die, Father,” I snarl, and he laughs.

“It won’t be me who is dying. That’s your brother’s role in all this. It’s quite ironic that one of the arseholes who ruined my life will also save it.” His focus moves to double swinging doors held open by large rocks, my brother lies silent in the next room. “I suppose you are wondering what this is all about.” He barely lifts his hands before letting them drop back down. His body screams of death and mortality. The man is clinging to life.

“Allow me,” Aiden begins. He places a fist over his mouth and clears his throat. “Your father was diagnosed with liver failure not long ago, and we needed to find a replacement liver as soon as possible. Luckily, a small business opportunity I operated made this all possible, and his hospital appointments made his escape relatively easy to execute. It’s amazing what having the right people on hand can do in a complicated situation.” He walks around as he speaks, enjoying all the attention being on him. Hunter, plainly bored, leans back against the wall. Aiden stops to glare at him.

“Continue,” Hunter says, glancing up. “This truly is an interesting story. I had forgotten what a good storyteller you are, Marley. Do keep going before I fall to fucking sleep.”

“This man,” Aiden says, gesturing to my father, “I owe him the world, and I would do anything to save him. My business dealings on British soil grew to surpass my U.S. assets only because of his connections and support. Finding him a liver and avenging against those who wronged him was inevitable.”

“Why the fuck are we here?” I demand, and my father laughs. His whole body vibrates before he coughs violently.

“Is it not obvious, boy? Or are you still the dense piece of shit you always were? This is revenge, plain and simple. I survive, and you get to watch it happen. And the bonus is you getting to watch your brother die.” Marley touches my father’s shoulder, a gesture filled with empathy I’ve never seen from either of them.

“You’ve always felt responsible for him, Russell. And I know Connor dying because you failed to save him will be the best punishment for you. Your death would be too kind. Initially, I was taken with the idea of your liver, but then I think of your teenage years. It probably doesn’t have long left itself.”

“Touch him and…” I trail off as the doctor walks in behind them, Bryan by her side. She doesn’t look at me. Her gaze is directed at the floor.

“We’re ready,” she whispers, and I swear a sob escapes her lips. Bryan stands at her side, staring blankly ahead. I look at them, and all I want to do is wring their fucking necks.

Have they both been part of this damn thing since the beginning? Did me using my connections to get Samantha’s traineeship throw us all in the firing line, or would this have all happened anyway? It’s so twisted, I have no idea. Hunter is still leaning against the wall, now cleaning under his fingernails with a piece of smashed tile he found somewhere, seemingly unperturbed by anything going on.

“Thank you, doctor. Please proceed,” Aiden says. He strides over and grabs her arm, pulling her hard against his chest. Nasty eyes stare down, locking on fast. “This is the most important operation of your career. Your team better be ready.”

When I glance back over my shoulder, Connor’s room is filled with other medical staff, maybe a dozen. They have pulled back his sheets, and a tray of implements has been wheeled into the room. I recognize one doctor as one named Winslow from Harbridges Medical Center in Mayfair; his picture and name had been shared in The Level months ago when all this came to light.

Josephine turns away, moving to leave.

“What the hell did you do, Josie?” I snarl, and she stops dead.

“Saved my husband,” she whispers, her voice devastated. “I’m sorry.” With that, she walks away toward Connor, closing the doors behind her.

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