Page 10 of The Tower

I don't want to believe that it could be. Just as I don't want to believe that any of this is true. A few hours ago, my biggest concern was to spend a few boring hours at a glamorous event I had no place at, and now I'm worrying whether I will live to see the next day.

I know my aunt won't. And I know there must be many others who won't. I have no idea how many people died tonight, how many were supposed to die, or why they had to die.

The only thing I know is that death came early to some unsuspecting, innocent people tonight.

And as of right now, I can't be sure that I won't be one of them in the very near future.

Chapter 6

Keane

I don't know what my long-term plan is with this girl, but I know exactly where to take her after we touch the ground at the designated area outside the city center. The vehicle is already waiting for us, one guy jumping out from the passenger's seat to help me wrap and store the paraglider as quickly as possible while another sits at the wheel, waiting to get the hell out. I don't know the name of either of the guys, and I don't need to. All I know is that they work for the Covey, and they can be trusted to take me where I need to go right now.

The motor is already running before we make our landing. Everything is prepared and ready for a swift getaway.

Except for one little hiccup.

"What the—"

The guy who jumped out the car to help me with the glider stops mid-motion, pointing at the girl strapped to my chest. She’s lost consciousness again at some point when we were still in the air. It didn't matter then because I could steer the wing even with her hanging in the harness like a ragdoll. But her limp body made our landing a little harsher and dangerous than it was supposed to be, causing us to fall and roll. It was probably for the best that she wasn't awake for that because I'm sure it must have hurt like a motherfucker.

"She needs medical attention!" I yell at the guy while opening the harness's hooks to free both the girl and me. "We need to take her to the medic safe house."

"Who the fuck is she?" the guy asks, his eyes going back and forth between me and the girl as he runs over to fetch the wing. "No one told me that this was some kind of kidnapping mission!"

I bite my lips, unsure how to respond. I know I should just tell him. It would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, the professional thing.

But how would he react? How much does he even know about tonight's mission? Knowledge is usually dispersed among different players as much as possible to make sure that none of us, especially the basic henchman, can spill too much information in an unexpected interrogation. That's why I don't know these guys' names, and I also don't know where exactly the medic safe house is, but I know it exists.

And I know we have to get there as quickly as possible.

"Doesn't matter," I respond, already on my way to the vehicle, carrying the unconscious girl in my arms. "Just get us there."

The driver casts me a curious look as I heft the girl onto the back seat, then return to help the second guy pack up the paraglider. I grab the risers, putting the connection points together in one hand while I use the other hand to grab all the lines, grouping them up as I pull them through my hand. The guy who's supposed to help me has obviously never handled a wing before and only gets in the way as I try to gather it up in a mushroom form, making it easier to carry. I suppress an annoyed remark, determined not to draw any negative attention to myself, not with the way I failed tonight's mission.

We jam the glider into the car and take off as soon as the doors are closed behind us.

"Who is that?" The guy repeats his question. "You just took someone for ransom money?"

"None of your business," I hiss at him. "Just get us to the medic safe house."

Both men grunt in response, allowing little assumption on what might be going through their heads. Maybe they can sense the trouble I'm in; maybe they can't. Either way, they both decide it's best to mind their own business and leave me be for the rest of the ride, only throwing curious looks to the back as I try to apply pressure on the more severe wound at the girl's shoulder.

They must've texted ahead because when the car finally stops in front of what appears to be an abandoned warehouse, we're greeted by two guys who bring a stretcher with them as they run up to the car.

"Two gunshot wounds," I tell them as I heft the girl from the back seat onto the stretcher. "One a through-and-through at the shoulder; the other's just a graze at the hip."

The guy standing closest to me nods as he leans over her to check her breathing. It's unsettling how young he looks; a baby face who looks like he should still be in medical school. And maybe he is. You never know who the Covey hires for their dirty work, but often enough, it's young guys like him who're willing to take the risk for some good cash to help them finance their expensive studies.

The girl is still unconscious, the tips of her blond hair dipped in dark red and stuck to her collarbone. She's white as a ghost, looking fragile and empty as if someone has literally sucked the life out of her. She's still breathing, though.

I watch as she is rolled toward the building, staying behind on purpose. The guys who picked us up are still in the car, waiting for my signal to drive away from the scene. Providing the vehicle and a drive to safety were the only things they were hired for, but they need confirmation that the job is done. A simple nod suffices for them to step on the pedal and make a run for it. It's no secret that they want to get away from the scene as quickly as possible. Safe house or not, right after a mission is the most dangerous time to be seen with people of the Covey. If things were any different, I'd make sure to get the hell out of here as soon as possible, too.

But things didn't turn out as planned tonight.

I approach the building, pacing up and down in front of the door as I make sure no one else is within earshot before reaching for my phone. I've dreaded this call ever since I made my way up to the roof, but it has to be done. The sooner, the better.

I need to let the boss know.

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