Page 32 of Angels of the Night

CHAPTER 24

Looking over his shoulder, Rowan saw no one was following him, at least for the time being, so he stopped to catch his breath for a few minutes. Crouching down, the kid thought about his desperate situation, tears streaming down his cheeks for the first time in the almost three days of captivity. That goddamn building was a labyrinth, and, no matter how carefully he mapped certain areas, it seemed to the kid that he ran around in circles.

With a loud, heavy sigh, Rowan got back to his feet and looked around, suddenly discouraged. He was tired, hungry, cold and scared, and although he wanted to get out of his sick-minded brother's clutches, he also wished everything was over, one way or another. Looking around, the boy saw the perfect hiding spot, where he could stay for hours, even days without being discovered and headed to it when the weight of a man's hand on his shoulder made his blood freeze.

Slowly, Rowan turned around, coming face to face with a long-haired, solidly-built man, whose dark-brown, almost black eyes studied him with compassion and gentleness. Putting a finger on his lips, the man took off his coat, offering it to the almost naked kid, who slipped into it with gratitude, without thinking very much about the mysterious stranger and his reasons.

The man protectively wrapped an arm around Rowan's shoulder, guiding him to an area of the building which didn't seem familiar to the boy. Anyway, he was too tired to protest and let the man lead the way. Apparently, they were heading to the building's exit as the kid felt a wave of cooler, fresher air coming from that direction. The air of freedom, Rowan thought, closing his eyes for a brief moment, gasping in surprise when he opened them again.

Right in front of them, a big grin on his face, stood his protector's chauffeur, surrounded by a few other men, all sporting wide smiles. Without a word, the man, who wasn't so grumpy after all, threw his arms around Rowan, pulling him into a tight, warm embrace. The boy reciprocated, burrowing his head into the man's broad chest.

“I missed your pesky little self, kiddo. So much, that I gathered the finest men in the city to come and save your little ass.” Lance's voice was thick with emotion as his hands caressed the teen's long, blond strands.

“Who are all these people? I have nothing against them, of course, but you didn't seem the sociable type.” Rowan grinned through the tears of joy starting to run down his pale cheeks.

“I'm Saint. These are Lothier and Ardan, whom I'm sure you’ve met before. The gentle giant who found you is Jericho, Caleb and Landon sent the bastard's men goose chasing, and Zachary waits for us at the vans. He's probably worried by now, so we better hurry. I'm sure that Mister Abramsky here will tell you more once you get home safe.”

Giving Rowan an assessing look, Jericho decided the kid was too weak to continue walking, so he took him in his arms with the rest of the group protectively surrounding them, covering their retreat. A few yards away from the exit, they spotted Caleb and Landon heading to them and stopped to make junction.

Meanwhile, in his office, Phillip rubbed his hands in satisfaction, thinking about his upcoming collaboration with Zev Abramsky. The man surely changed a lot, he was bitter, greedy and determined to get rich, nothing in him speaking of the naive, almost innocent young CIA agent from seven years earlier.

The sound of the guards chasing that pesky, but so valuable boy reached to his office, making Phillip grin. Finally, those brutes were doing their job properly, the way they should have done it from the start. Maybe the news that the boss was going to put Zev Abramsky in charge had the desired effect, the man thought, frowning the next second. His former collaborator's visit and the agitation from outside seemed perfectly timed, too perfectly, Phillip thought.

There was something very wrong about Zev Abramsky's sudden visit, something he couldn't put his finger on, but it was there. The man replayed the conversation in his head, trying to find a reason which could validate his suspicions but cursed in frustration when was unable to discover one. Until the realization hit him.

Never, during more than a half an hour of conversation, did Zev Abramsky bring that Cedric guy's name into discussion, which was really strange, giving how close they were back then. Somehow, the bastard found out about his role in the events from almost seven years earlier, and he came back, hellbent on avenging his friend's death.

The air in the office became heavy and suffocating, making Phillip step outside of it, heading to one of the secondary exits taking to a patch of green and a row of trees that were partially hiding the building. And then he saw the blond, that goddamn boy who killed his father like he was a rabid dog. Caleb-bloody-MacNamara.

Although the murderer of the genial scientist, as Phillip considered Conroy, had changed a lot during the five years, he couldn't forget the blond, almost white hair and strange, turquoise eyes burning with hatred into the night. And there he was again, in the heart of the empire Phillip was rebuilding, trying to destroy it. He couldn't allow that, Conroy's son thought. Not again.

Getting back into the office, he want straight to the secret compartment of his desk, taking out the dagger his father gave him on his fifteenth birthday, and which he wielded like a real warrior. Going back into the corridor, he slid past the walls like a shadow until he was close enough to his target. Phillip thought a little, then aimed to the victim's back, because he didn't want his cries of pain to agitate the others.

The cut was going to cause blood loss, leading to a slow death, but he wouldn’t feel more than a sting and wouldn’t bring attention to it until it was too late to stop the bleeding. More likely, the fucking killer and the hunks accompanying him were there to steal the precious compound he got from that London lab, but they were a bunch of fools if they imagined he kept it there.

From the corner of his eye, Lance saw Phillip's silhouette lurking in the shadows, dagger in hand, ready to aim at the blond's back. He knew how the bastard intended to hurt the blond, as he witnessed firsthand, on more than one occasion, the damage such a wound could inflict. In most of the cases, people died from blood loss, and he couldn't allow that to happen to the blond.

Just before they had embarked the vans taking them to the lab's location, Lance saw his son and the young man whose life was threatened kissing heatedly, drinking each other's soul dry. The man known as Saint by everyone at The Base joined them, and Fabian's chauffeur could see the expression of pure joy on his son's face when the three of them hugged.

For a moment, Lance thought about his boss, the feelings budding between them and the promise he made to the man. If he didn’t survive the wound, Fabian would fall back into the abyss he had crawled his way back from, would become trapped in the darkness of his mind again. On the other hand, if he ignored the threat and let the bastard harm the blond, the light in his son's eyes would be gone forever.

Lance couldn't let that happen, not again. It was time to give birth to his son, the man thought, moving one step just when the dagger left Phillip's hand. The pain burned his flesh, making him let out a sharp, long hiss, which fortunately passed unnoticed by everyone. Gritting his teeth, Lance moved as fast as he could, not wanting to slow down the others, although he was aware the blood would start to drip faster, too.

“Finally! What took you so long?” Zachary, who nervously paced up and down the green patch where the cars were parked greeted them worriedly. “Are you alright, kiddo? Happy to meet you up close.” The man's light-green eyes brightened as he hugged Rowan.

“And we, who thought you would be glad everything went so smooth and quick! You are a very hard to please man, my love!” Saint grinned, hopping into the van and helping the teen to climb into the vehicle.

“You are now in the best possible company, son.” Jericho smiled, gesturing to Saint, Caleb and Zachary. “We old folks are taking the other van.” He grinned, wrapping an arm around Lance's waist. “Come on, partner!”

“Don't say anything or act panicky until they leave. I don't want them to get scared and drive recklessly. And don't turn around, either, the commander will suspect something is not right. I know how he reacts, I raised him myself.” For a few moments, a weak smile played on the man's almost blue lips, paternal pride filling his voice. “And will you please tell Landon to drive a little fast?”

“Sure. May I ask why?” Jericho frowned a little, taking a better look at Lance. “Man, you don't look so good, what happened? They left, so I can panic now, right?”

“Wrong. Let's get to our van. The rest of the team are waiting for us. The sooner we get to a hospital, the better.” Panting a little, Lance climbed into the vehicle, followed by a very worried Jericho. “Step on it, son.” Summoning all his strength, Fabian's chauffeur grinned in Landon's direction. “And don't listen to anything this man says, he's talking nonsense.”

“What's wrong with you, Mister Abramsky or whatever your name is?” Ardan's turquoise eyes stared into Lance's green ones, going to the depths of his soul. “What happened in there? Listen, you may be a hot-shot CIA agent, but you can't fool me.”

“I'm not trying to fool anyone, MacNamara. I just want to get to a hospital, so the good people there could stop the bleeding in my back. However, I had to wait until the other van has left because I didn't want my son to see me like that. He would get worried.” Lance closed his eyes, letting out another, louder, longer hiss.

“Don't worry, Sir. I know a shortcut that would take us straight to New York General Hospital, they would take good care of you there. Until then, how about you tell us more about your son? You are Zachary's father, right? There is also Saint, of course, but his parents died long ago, so...” Landon kept talking, focused on the road at the same time, trying to keep Lance alert.

“Yes, that fine young man is my son. We were best friends when he was a little boy. At some point, his mother and I divorced, and he blamed me for walking away. Or it wasn't only that, I have no idea, but I want to ask him before I die.” Lance closed his eyes, feeling his powers draining just like the blood that was dripping from the wound.

It wasn't his time to go, not yet, not when he had so many things to do. He made a promise to his boss and intended to keep it, and there was also that little devil of a boy who had to be guided and watched over. Well, not quite a devil, more like a mischievous angel, like the one who just appeared before his eyes. There was so much light around him, Lance thought, feeling the warmth against his skin. Light was good.

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