Page 25 of Corrupted Empire

Angelo narrows his eyes and keeps listening, then nods to the other guard, who goes to stand by the front door.

“What is it?” I repeat anxiously.

“Calm down,” he says. “You have a visitor.”

My heart suddenly slams into the back of my ribs. A visitor? It must be Gabriel. Debbie wouldn’t drop by unannounced, and there’s certainly nobody else who would visit me out of the blue. I tried calling Clara a couple of times this morning and still haven’t been able to reach her, so I know she’s still MIA.

I race over to the hall mirror and check myself over. I’m so glad I decided to shower this morning. Being locked inside with nothing to do and only my guards for company has made the idea of marinating in my own filth more tempting with every day. I give my hair a quick flip, and when I turn around, Angelo’s lips are pressed together in a barely suppressed smile.

“Stop it,” I snap. “I’ve only had your ugly mug to look at for over a week now. Excuse me for getting excited.”

Angelo’s mug is far from ugly, and he knows it. He gasps and flings a hand over his heart in mock distress. I stick my tongue out at him.

The front door flings open, and my best friend staggers through, supported by one of the guards in the hall. I take in her haggard appearance, the split lip caked with dried blood, the stringy mats of curls on her head, and the sight of it all is enough to make me want to cry.

But then Clara grins. “Are you going to come give me a hug or not?”

I race over and wrap my arms around her frail form, shaking with relief. She smells awful, and she feels skinnier than ever, but she’s here. She’s alive. The guard holding her backs away, and I guide her to the sofa.

“Where the hell have you been?” I ask.

“A yoga retreat,” Clara deadpans.

“I’m serious.”

Angelo appears in front of us with a big glass of water and hands it to Clara. She looks up, smiling appreciatively. Only I think there’s a little something more than appreciation in her smile.

“Hey!” I snap in front of her face, drawing her attention back to me. “We need to get you to a doctor. You look awful.”

Clara shrugs and takes a sip of water. “Gabriel said he’s sending one over.”

“Gabriel?” I frown.

“Yeah, he rescued me,” she replies. “Some crazy bitch named Felicity had me locked up in a crack den. She said she was the leader of the Cartel, but she didn’t look Colombian.”

Felicity. After so much mystery, I finally know the name of the person running the Cartel. I wish I hadn’t found out this way though. I wish Clara wasn’t involved in this at all.

Angelo comes back into view and passes a sandwich to Clara on a small plate. She groans and stuffs it into her face, closing her eyes with bliss as she chews.

“When they remembered to feed me, it was almost always canned beans,” she complains. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at the stuff again.”

Clara takes another big bite of the sandwich, and I pull the plate out of her hands.

“Just take it slow, okay?” I urge as her eyes widen with panic. “You’ll throw it all back up if you don’t.”

She nods, and I hand the plate back. She only takes nibbles from that point on.

“Did you send me this text?” I pull out my phone and show Clara the last message I got from her phone.

She shakes her head. “No, but I remember Felicity showing it to me.”

Felicity…I swear I recognize that name from somewhere. But where?

“She taunted me with it,” Clara continues. “She said that once you knew the truth, it was going to destroy you.” She shrugs and takes another sip of water. “I’m almost certain the woman was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, so I doubt it actually means anything.”

I’m sure Felicity is many things, but I don’t think crazy is one of them. She’s smart. Calculating. She had Gabriel Bellucci, the most powerful man I know, under her thumb for months, and now the city is flooded with purple heroin because of her. Whoever this Felicity is, she is a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” I say, folding Clara into another hug. She takes a bite of the sandwich over my shoulder.

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