Page 196 of Fractured Future
“You’re lying,” I spit into the phone.
“I’m doing you a kindness,” Luis chortles. “You should be glad that she’s dead. Her fate could’ve been far worse.”
The hands on me tear free when I let my knees cave in. Rough carpet rushes up to meet me, cushioning my fall. The pounding of my failing heart has slowed to a futile patter as grief takes over.
“I’m a patient man,” Luis says cheerfully. “My next instructions will follow.”
“Just tell me where you are,” I plead through falling tears. “I’ll be there. You can have me.”
“Along with the company you’ve aligned yourself with, no doubt.” His laugh is sickeningly smug. “I want your compliance. By the time I’m finished with Thomas, you’ll give it to me.”
“Luis, wait?—”
The call disconnects.
Letting my hand crash into my lap, I look up at the silent room through the blurry curtain that’s conquered my vision. Everyone is on their feet—even Blaine and the Falcon Team. Ready to respond. Ready to fight.
“He has Tom,” I croak. “Luis took my brother.”
Fisting his hair, Warner spins to swiftly punch the wall. If anything matches my utterly consuming dismay, it’s his shattered expression.
“What are his demands?” Kade asks gently.
“He didn’t have any. Luis said he wants my compliance. He’s going to use Tom to get it.”
“Goddammit!” Warner roars in a voice I’ve never heard before.
“H-He said that Gracie Livingstone is dead.” Tears make my words shrivel up into raw rasps. “I… I d-don’t know if he’s telling the truth or not. Now h-he has my brother too.”
Looking down at the phone still clenched in my hand, every last instance I witnessed of Luis beating and torturing compliance out of his kidnapped captives forms a devastating slideshow behind my eyes.
I barely survived before.
But I know… I won’t survive losing Tom.
EPILOGUE
JUNGLE (2019 VERSION) – SOMEBODY’S CHILD
BLAINE
It seems somewhatodd to find myself amidst an active investigation, behind the other side of yellow crime scene tape rather than being the reason it’s unravelled in the first place.
Somewhere in the world, I’m sure my father is roiling in disgust. He was never interested in having a son. More an outlet for his never-ending flow of righteous anger and power-hungry desire.
I learned at a young age that his language is ninety percent violence, ten percent blackmail. It wasn’t a matter of choosing to become the crown jewel of our crime family. I was born, bred and beaten into that position.
“Keep out of the way.” The oversized boulder, Hyland, shoves past me. “Don’t touch anything.”
“You don’t say?”
“Watch it, Madden.”
To say he’s displeased about the tidy deal I’ve negotiated for myself is an understatement. I didn’t quite know if the scheme I’d intricately laid would pay off. My allies—Raye in particular—doubted it would.
Yet the plan has unfurled perfectly.
Perfectly… besides one thing.
