Page 68 of Forged By Shadows
Running a hand down my face, I jerk and hiss at the pain I cause myself in forgetting about the broken bone. My brain is fried, so I take a break. Finding a few of the guys playing the PlayStation in the living room, I stride around the huge sofa and place myself right in the center, between Dax and Hux. As much as I want to be alone, I know I need to put myself in the comfort of my boys. Otherwise, I might as well not even be here.
“Where’s Avery?” I have to ask, ignoring their side glances. I’m not in the frame of mind to torment her right now. I don’t feel angry. I feel empty.
“She’s booked a last-minute appointment with her old dance tutor. There’s something she wants to perfect for the showcase and doesn’t think Nightingale is up to the task,” Garrett answers without looking my way. On the screen, Axel’s character is killed off by Dax’s, so he tosses the controller into my lap to take over. He rises, stretching his arms high above his head. I notice then that Axel, and all of those lounging around, are kitted out in their basketball jerseys and shorts. My heart leaps.
We haven’t played together in too long, considering we’re supposed to keep up our daily practice sessions, even in the breaks. A physical release is exactly what I need. The video game is set up for another round, between myself and Garrett before I can say otherwise. One game won’t hurt, I reckon, as we start to tap the controller keys frantically.
The elevator door pings further within the mansion, which I ignore. Avery must be escorting her tutor in from the garage. Suddenly, the chandelier above explodes like a firework, the crack of gunfire hindered by the shattering of glass. I dive onto the floor as the metal frame smashes into the coffee table, splintering my arms with tiny shards as I frantically try to protect my head. My eardrums produce a high-pitched ring as I scramble across the floor, glass cutting into my palms and feet as I somehow make it into the kitchen. Pushing myself upright, I grab for the widest and sharpest knife from the utensil drawer before returning to just inside the archway.
Peeking around the corner, Dax is still lying flat on the floor, using the sofa to hide him while Garrett has leapt to hide behind the piano. The ceiling from the hallway into the living room is punctured with bullet holes and the empty socket that held the chandelier is swinging back and forth eerily. Three figures dressed all in black stand in the living room, their stances confident. My heart stutters. Axel peeps around the far wall, catching my eyeline whilst remaining hidden from the intruders.
“Find Avery,” I mouth, to which he nods and disappears. The moment stretches as I stand, unsure of what to do. I don’t stand a chance at attacking; they have a multitude of guns strapped to their hips for fucks sake. Dax catches my attention, his body shaking as he holds his hands over his ears.
“Hand over the Hughes child,” the biggest of the men states loudly. “No one else has to get hurt.” The deep voice booms throughout the room. No one dares to move, frozen in place by fear. Garrett’s wide eyes find mine as he vigorously shakes his head beneath the piano, but what choice do I have? All of my closest family are in this house, and Avery. After a few deep breaths, I step out into the living room with the knife clutched tightly at my side.
“I’m here,” I sigh, resigned. “Just leave everyone else alone.” My voice comes out more nasally than I’d have liked right now. Staring into the dead eyes peering out from under a ski mask, a flash of confusion passes through them as the lead thug begins to laugh. The two men flanking him join the condescending crescendo, pointing at me and nudging shoulders. Aware of the pistol pointing right at me, I stand perfectly still, my jaw clenched.
“Not you, obviously.” He finally manages to compose himself enough to say. Keeping my features schooled, I fight against the panic gripping me. Obviously? “Find her,” he says to the guy on his left. Striding towards me with the gun pointed on my chest, he gestures to the knife with his chin and I drop it to the floor with a clang.
There’s a look of betrayal in Dax’s eyes, his face hard. If I could, I’d throw my arms out and scream, ‘what the fuck do you expect me to do?!’ Am I supposed to fight a gun with a knife with the idea of saving Avery while I bleed out on the floor of a house I loathe? How is that the better choice, than being led back to the sofa with a barrel pushed against my nape?
Dax resigns to being found and pushes himself up next to me, shaking his afro out of the shards stuck in it. The other masked man drags Gare up by the back of his vest and tosses him our way.
“Is this all of them?” The larger of the two, who I’ve dubbed the leader, asks as they both circle the coffee table, glass crunching under their boots as they keep pistols trained on the three of us.
“There’s another two somewhere,” his blue-eyed friend answers, confessing he’s done his homework. They knew we were here and they’ve picked their moment carefully. Where the fuck are Huxley’s guards? Wait, where the fuck is Huxley? Both men are huge, bound in matching black cargos and tight, long-sleeved shirts showcasing their muscles. Their military style boots tie in with the tactical vests that hold multiple pockets bulging with more bullets.
The leader lifts one foot onto the frame of the table and rests the firearm on his thigh as he assesses me. His head cocks, a mocking tone to his voice. “You don’t know, do you?” He questions, catching me off guard. Gare and Dax look over to me but I can’t answer their curiosity, since I’m as much in the dark here as they are.
“Know what?” I ask back. His only answer is a chuckle. My eyebrows crease as I stare at him, trying to place his deadened eyes from somewhere but coming up empty. But then I shift my focus to his shape and size, wondering if he was the man on the surveillance camera. The one who was sifting through my father’s papers and spoke of my mother’s death as if he knew exactly what happened. He has the answers I need.
“Found this one trying to sneak in through the window,” a gruff voice sounds as Axel is pushed along by a gun in his back. His hazel eyes find mine, an apologetic look painted within. I try to give him a small smile to tell him it’s okay, but I don’t know if I manage it. Shoving him down onto the sofa with us, the third masked intruder darts off again in search of Avery. My gut twists with worry, not for any reason other than I genuinely hope she is somewhere safe. In her hidden room, watching on, I hope. I can be the monster who keeps her up in the middle of the night, but not this. Not to be used for ransom and fuck knows what else in-between. I taunt her but even I have my boundaries.
Growing agitated, I try to probe the leader without much direction in mind. I just hope if I keep him talking, he might reveal his intentions. Accidentally spill a secret which could provide some clarity as to what the fuck is going on.
“You’re doing this for the money, right? State your price. Whatever it is, I’ll get it. Just leave us alone.” Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Axel’s shaky hand seeking out Garrett’s. The leader notices it too, a sneer crinkling the edges of his eyes. Terror bleeds through me, the need to protect my family has never been more present. They’re here because of me. I chose them to be my brothers. I can’t have any more guilt on my hands.
“Money means nothing to my boss,” he finally shakes his head and returns to his full height. His lackey eyes him with a type of warning, but he continues anyway. “Your dear mother stole something from him years ago. She didn’t keep her promise, and the time has come that we repaid the favor.”
Chapter Forty Six
Ihaven’t heard a noise from anywhere in the house for the longest time, but I still remain hidden in the airing cupboard. Perched uncomfortably on a pile of folded towels, I cradle my knees up to my chest and bury my face into them. The boiler behind me is hot to the touch and the air in here is stifling, almost too thick to breathe as I rack my brain to understand what happened.
I had been sitting in the dance studio, tapping my foot impatiently waiting for Elena to arrive. Being an ex-professional ballerina, she’s usually prompt for every one of our dance sessions, even given the late notice. As the clock above the door stated, she was an hour and ten minutes late. I’d given up waiting. Midway through typing out a text to Meg, asking if she’s recovered after last night, I walked the corridors when the ping of the elevator sounded.Finally - Elena is here, I’d thought.
But as I turned the corner, a shiny black object led the way out of the elevator before deafening cracks of gunfire assaulted the air. Dashing back through the hallway, I slipped into the laundry room and threw myself into this cupboard before I even noticed my phone was still clutched in my hand. Cursing myself for not locking any doors behind me, I tapped out nine-one-one with shaky thumbs and have been waiting here for what seems like hours, waiting for the sirens to sound.
It’s so quiet. No more gunfire, no yelling. If only I knew where anyone was, if anyone was even left inside the manor, I might be able to stop the constant flow of tears lining my cheeks. I’m scared. So fucking scared, terror seizing me. Not even the darkness of the cupboard is enough to coax me outside, a rare sense of solace wrapping around me. If I’m in here, I’m safe. An opposite concept to what I’ve been led to believe my entire life.
The sound of a handle twisting somewhere in the room beyond freezes the blood in my veins and my breathing automatically halts. The more I try to stay still, the more eccentric my trembling becomes until the sound of my teeth chattering prevents me from hearing any further sounds. The door abruptly whips open. Luckily, my hand was already wrapped around my mouth and catches my scream. A disheveled-looking Huxley sighs, his shoulders sagging in relief.
“Oh thank fuck, you’re okay.” he whispers. Throwing myself into his arms, he grips me tightly and buries his face into my neck. Leaves litter his blond, wavy hair, the ends muddied. Sweat coats his skin, a similar tremble to his movements as mine.
“What happened to you?” I ask as he puts me down. There’s a dirt smear across his cheek and his jersey is torn down the side.
“I was already outside when they entered. I’ve army crawled through the bushes, climbing through the windows one by one until I found you. We need to move. Now.” He whispers, linking his fingers with mine.
“Wait,” I tug on his arm. “Aren’t the police here yet? I called them ages ago.” Shaking his head of messy blond hair, I scramble for a plan. We’re too far away from the safe room entrances to risk it, but outside we’re exposed. Huxley doesn’t want to wait, creeping towards the window while listening intently for foreign sounds. Boots on the wood flooring in the hallway cause us to jerk behind a tall unit, his hand now covering my mouth.
