Page 22 of Fractured Onyx

She lets out a deep sigh, her head bobbing from side to side as she ponders.

"Something crazy," she begins vaguely. "With my friend... for my friend, actually. The one who got married in Atlantic City. That's why I thought they were part of this, her and her husband."

"That Jayson Bowlan guy?" I ask. "The psycho mesmerizer, or whatever they call him."

She chuckles when she nods. "Yeah, he'd hate you for calling him that."

"What did you do? Why did you think your friend—or her husband—would let you get kidnapped from your hotel room on their wedding night?" I want to know. "Is that the kind of prank you guys play on each other, or what?"

Her chuckle turns into proper laughter when she shakes her head now, throwing me a sheepish grin.

"A prank?" she repeats. "I'd hardly call it that. What we did was much more serious, more dangerous. I helped him do something terrible to her. I watched my friend suffer, I helped make her suffer! It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life, and even though it all ended well in the end, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself."

She huffs, lowering her eyes for a moment before she turns to me, a sad smile gracing her features.

"I thought it was karma coming back at me," she explains. "I thought I deserved to have this happen to me. And maybe, I do."

I let her words sink in, trying to make sense of the vague hints she's been giving me. It's hard to imagine her to even be capable of doing something terrible to anybody. She's not like Lailah, not like us. And now she wants to tell me there's a trait in her, a misdeed that's so terrible she can't forgive herself?

"Did you friend forgive you?"

She nods immediately, but doesn't look convinced when she speaks.

"She does, but that's just because she's so different to me," she whispers. "We've known each other for most of our lives, and I've always admired her for her courage. She has dared so much more than I ever have. But you know what?"

The expression on her face changes, turning weirdly serious and intense, kissed with a hint of silliness and mischief.

"I'm sure she'd be impressed if she could see me now," she continues. "And maybe it was karma that brought me here, but in a different way than I thought. Maybe it's not a punishment..."

She stops speaking as her focus shifts. Her gazes trails past me, latching on to something—or rather someone—at the same time as I hear hurried steps approaching from behind my back.

I turn around to find Mike running toward us, a deja vu washing over me when I see his aghast face.

And it only gets worse when he speaks.

"Quick!" he exclaims, waving me closer. "It's Lailah."

Chapter 15

Malia

Nate hasn't said a word ever since we stepped inside the house. He keeps his lips pressed into a thin line, a deep crease between his eyebrows and a shadow cast over his worried expression. He looks pale weak in a way I have never seen him before.

It aches to see him like this. Every time I look at him, it feels like a tiny dagger is pinching at my chest, leaving marks on me just like the rope did. And as saddening as these little imprints may be, they make me feel closer to him.

"Her heart gave out twice."

The middle-aged man who greets us with these words is a new face to me. I haven't seen him before, but assume him to be a doctor, given the fact that he's surrounded by medical supplies and is standing closest to Lailah's bed. He's holding one of those machines that send electric currents to the heart when it gives out. I've seen them on TV before, but never in real life. The sight of it is terrifying, causing me to swallow dryly

"She's dying," George comments from the other side of the room. The big bellied man is standing in a corner far away from Lailah's bed, next to the window. And just like Nate, he looks deeply pained and troubled, but eager to suppress these emotions.

"She's breathing for now," the doctor says, his eyes resting on the unconscious Lailah. "But there's not much I can do for her at this point. Her body is giving out."

He scans the room, with an apologetic expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he says when his eyes meet the boss. "I think we'll have to prepare for the worst tonight."

"We've been preparing for it for months," George says, sounding harsh and almost angry. "It's been coming."

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