Page 121 of Ugly Truths
As soon as they received the green light, Davey and Paul booked flights to El Paso. They had an entire day of meetings, and we’ve barely heard from them since yesterday morning. Depending on how the conversations went with the team at the facility, Silas and Davey needed to devise a plan to discreetly wind down the operations and then decide what to do with the building.
The slow pace grates on me, and I’ve not been shy about expressing it. Silas keeps explaining why rushing could worsen things or make them unfixable, but understanding the strategy doesn’t ease the knowledge that people are suffering this very moment and will continue to until it’s completely shut down.
Cillian hums in acknowledgement from the driver's seat. “Good. I’ll call Silas while you’re working out and fill you both in on the way home.” He flicks on the turn signal and checks the rearview mirror before taking a left onto a side street.
Natalie yawns, briefly glancing at another message before locking her phone. The streets are quiet, but that will change soon as the morning rush begins.
“Jeff’s lucky I like him,” she mutters, stifling another yawn. “This is an insane time to be awake, let alone working out.”
Jeff is having maintenance done in his gym’s bathrooms. He didn’t want to stray far while the work is underway, so he asked to shift our training sessions to an ungodly hour so he could supervise the plumbers. We didn’t realize he meant at the crack of dawn when we initially agreed. By the time he told us, it was too late to back out. Neither of us was interested in his relentless teasing if we changed our minds. Cillian felt comfortable with our security since we’d be the only ones in the gym. That’s why we’ve stuck with it this week. Luckily, today is our last session before we go back to our normal routine.
I can't help but chuckle as we approach the main road, Ironworks looming up ahead. “Usually, your brother has already worked out and headed to the office by now.”
“He’s also a psychopath,” she shoots back, as if that explains everything. I press my lips together, holding back another smile.
As we pull up to the gym, Jeff is already there, unlocking the front door. With so little traffic, he hears us approach, looking over his shoulder with a broad smile. He waits patiently as Cillian pulls into a street spot right in front of the door; one of the only perks of being up so early.
Cillian fumbles with some messages on his phone, so Natalie and I hop out without him to greet Jeff. Despite our grumbles about the ungodly hour and morning chill, Jeff greets us cheerfully, proclaiming, “Beautiful morning, yeah?” Natalie blinks at him, adjusting the gym bag on her shoulder in mild annoyance.
“Reel it in, sunshine,” I answer with an eye roll.
Jeff smirks. “I almost forgot how much of a peach you are in the morning,” he taunts.
“Can’t wait to show you how much of a peach I am on the mat,” I retort, my lips curving into a small smile.
The car door slams behind us as Cillian finally gets out and rounds the front of the vehicle. The quiet is briefly pierced by other distant sounds—a car or two stirring in the streets. Just as Natalie opens her mouth, presumably to try and wiggle out of her cardio as she does every session, Cillian's voice slices through the air.
I turn to him, but he’s looking down the road behind me. His body tenses as if ready to sprint when a sudden force yanks my arm, and suddenly I don’t know which way is up.
A loud buzzing sound in my ears almost drowns out the several sharp pops, and I’m slammed to the ground by an unseen weight. On instinct, my forearms fly up to my face just as the air is ripped from my lungs. I heave, chest burning and arms stinging. The pressure on my back is so intense I can't tell if the weight is preventing me from sucking in a breath or the wind had been permanently knocked out of me.
Then, as quickly as it came, the pressure lifts. With a gasp, I roll onto my back. My ears ring. The building edges and the clear sky spin in my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them again to look for Natalie.
She’s less than a foot away, on her stomach. Her breathing is ragged, eyes wide with confusion and fear. There’s a smear of red across her cheek and on the cement below her face.
I reach for her, placing my hand on her forearm and squeezing. Everything seems to move in slow motion for several heartbeats while I tryto figure out what happened, but then her gaze shifts past my face, eyes widening in a fresh wave of panic.
When I turn my head, reality snaps back. Cillian is kneeling over Jeff, who lies face down, his head turned away. The sting of the cold air fills my lungs as I suck in another breath and scramble to my knees. Blood coats Cillian’s hands, and the metallic smell of iron hits me with full force.
Cillian’s voice cuts through the shock, panic growing in his eyes. “Get in the car! We need to move him and get out of the open. Now!”
The back of Jeff’s sweatshirt is riddled with holes, blood soaking through the fabric.
I’m already crawling toward him, a string of whimpers leaving my lips as I reach Jeff’s face. The relief I feel when I see his bright blue eyes open only lasts a second before he gasps under the weight of his injuries and Cillian's desperate attempts to stem the bleeding.
My fingers find his face, the warmth of it seeping into my palms as I force him to look at me. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. My hands shake, heart seizing in my chest as tremors rack my body.
Cillian screams Natalie's name. She's instantly on her feet, springing into action in a way I can't focus on, because Jeff's eyes are already fluttering shut.
“Jeff,” I whisper, pressing my fingers into his skin to hold his attention. I don’t get a chance to see his reaction because Cillian is grabbing my arm, pulling me up with enough force that it snaps my head back to him.
“Elena! Focus!”
I shake my head once.
Cillian rattles off instructions to me. We’re going to lift Jeff into the backseat to lie flat on his stomach. “You have to apply pressure to the wounds,” he tells me urgently. “Focus on the one near his chest. Can you do that?”
I nod, swallowing hard to muster the semblance of control I need.
