Chapter 30 Superfluous?
EMILY
The shivering is a violent, jagged thing that I can’t turn off.
I’m huddled in the back of the SUV, the dark leather seats cool against my damp skin. Every time the car hits a bump, the water from my soaked clothes seeps deeper into the upholstery. The smell of the lake, mud, rotting weeds, and old wood, clings to me like a second skin. Beside me, Alistair is a statue of dark shadows and sharp lines. He hasn’t looked at me for a while. He’s staring straight ahead, his jaw so tight I can see the muscle jumping in his cheek.
Lily is a warm, quiet weight tucked into his side. She’s safe. That’s the only thought that keeps my mind from splintering.
When my teeth chatter again, Alistair taps Leo. "Get a blanket."
Leo reaches over from the front, passing back a heavy, charcoal-colored cashmere throw. Alistair takes it. He doesn’t just hand it to me; he leans over and drapes it around my shoulders. He is moving so slowly and carefully that it makes me feel fragile.
"Turn the heat up," Alistair commands the driver. "All the way. I don’t need her turning into an icicle before we reach the gates."
The vents start to hiss, blowing a dry, artificial heat that stings my frozen cheeks. I pull the blanket tighter, my fingers still numb and clumsy. "Thank you," I whisper. My voice sounds like it’s been dragged over broken glass. My body feels the same.
Alistair doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches out. His hand is large, his skin warm as he brushes a wet, matted strand of hair away from my eyes. He tucks it behind my ear, his thumb lingering for a heartbeat against my temple.
I stop breathing. I can’t help but look at him. His eyes are a stormy, unreadable gray, focused entirely on me. For a second, the cold of the lake is gone, replaced by a sharp, electric tension that makes the hair on my arms stand up. My lips chatter, and I have to pull my lower lip between my teeth to stop myself from shaking so hard.
Alistair’s gaze drops to my mouth. He watches the way my lips tremble for a long, agonizing moment. Then, his eyes snap back to mine, and he pulls his hand away as if my skin had suddenly turned to fire. He shifts back to his side of the seat and now, the distance between us feels weird. Almost unbearable.
"You should know," Alistair says and just from those three words, I know he’s about to scold me or say something really harsh. I don’t know why he always does that. Anytime we share a moment, he switches up and for the exactly opposite of the monent that passed between us.
"Everything you did today was entirely superfluous. I had the snipers in position. I had the tactical team ready to move the second the sun hit the horizon. I was fully prepared to take that man and his accomplices down down myself."
The warmth I felt a second ago vanishes. It’s replaced by a cold, heavy lump in my stomach. I look at him, my eyes stinging. I thought I was helping. I thought I was being the predator he said he needed.
"Superfluous," I repeat. The word tastes like copper in my mouth.
"Exactly. You meddled in a situation you didn’t understand. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Worse, you could have gotten Lily killed. It was a reckless, unnecessary risk."
I look down at my hands, hidden beneath the charcoal wool. I feel foolish. I feel like a child who tried to help and only succeeded in getting in the way. The pride I felt on the pier, the strength I thought I’d found, it all shrivels up and dies under his words. My spirits sink, pulling me down into a dark, hollow place. And it hurts because I think that’s his intention.
"How did you know they were there, Emily?"
Alistair’s voice is sharp now, a demand for an answer. I remember the way he mocked me earlier. I remember him telling me to stay in my lane, acting like I was nothing more than a vessel for his heir. A surge of spite, hot and bitter, bubbles up in my chest.
"A passerby told me," I say.
I don’t look at him. I fix my gaze on the blurred lights of the streetlamps passing by the window.
"A passerby," Alistair repeats and from his tone, he knows I’m lying. "A random stranger just happened to know the location of a professional kidnapping ring? In a high-end villa complex?"
"That’s right. Some people are just helpful that way. They don’t need a tactical team to see when a child is in trouble."
I won’t tell him about the coffee kiosk girl. I won’t tell him how I used my brain to piece it together while his elite guards were busy chasing decoys. If he wants to believe I’m a liability, fine. Let him believe I’m a lucky one, too.
A silence falls between us and I hate the sound of it. In the silence, I can hear my heart sink, I can hear the distance between us widen and I can hear his walls go up.
I keep my eyes on the window, watching my own reflection. I look like a ghost. I look like a woman who is losing her grip on everything.
BEATRICE
The phone almost slides out because of how sweaty my palms are. I’m standing in the center of my bedroom, the heavy velvet curtains drawn tight. My heart is a frantic, erratic drum in my ears.
"What do you mean they’re gone?" I hiss into the receiver. "I paid you to be at the refinery! I told you to wait for the girl!"
"She never showed, ma’am," the voice on the other end says, sounding small and terrified. "She bypassed the South Ring Road entirely. We got word from our man at the entrance... she’s already at Greenery Villas. I also heard that Mr. Wolfe is there. It’s a mess."
The phone finally slips from my sweaty fingers, hitting the plush rug with a dull thud. A wave of nausea hits me so hard I have to grab the edge of the dresser to keep from collapsing.
Greenery Villas. How? How did that gutter rat find them? I had the decoys set. I had the trail pointed toward the refinery.
I hear a sound that makes my vision spin temporarily.
Is that...
I rush toward the balcony and I push the glass doors open. The estate seems quiet at first, the gardens a sea of dark, manicured shadows.
Then I hear the sound again. The low growl of engines.
A motorcade of black SUVs pulls into the long, gravel driveway. The headlights cut through the darkness like searchlights, illuminating the front of the villa. I watch, my breath coming in shallow, jagged gasps, as the lead vehicle comes to a stop.
Alistair steps out. He’s cradling Lily in his arms. She’s wrapped in his jacket, her small head tucked into his shoulder. She’s alive. She’s safe.
Then Emily steps out.
She’s wrapped in a gray blanket, her hair a wild, wet tangle. She looks up toward the balcony like she was expecting me to be standing there waiting. She meets my eyes across the distance, her face pale but her gaze as sharp as a blade. And then, she does something that utterly crushes.
She flashes me a triumphant, mocking smile.
A surge of venomous hatred rushes through me, so hot I can almost taste it. She’s back. She survived the trap, and she’s standing there in my home, looking at me as if I’m the one who should be afraid.
But why should I be afraid. I have nothing to be scared of. There’s nothing that leads this incidence back to me. They would never-
Leo steps out of the car and my thoughts are cut short.
He reaches into the back of the SUV and hauls out a man in a dark, dirt-stained hoodie. The kidnapper. Then another. And another. Three men, their hands zip-tied behind their backs, looking like broken, cornered animals.
They caught them. They didn’t just save the girl; they took the evidence.
My world tilts. The stone railing of the balcony feels like it’s moving beneath my hands. The air is suddenly too thin, my lungs working but finding no oxygen. Those men know my name.
They know who gave them the gate codes. They know who promised them a life of luxury in exchange for a girl’s disappearance.
I recoil in terror, my knees hitting the wicker chair behind me. I stumble backward into the room, my hands flying to my mouth to stifle a scream that is clawing at my throat. Panic, cold and absolute, washes over me.
What do I do now?