He answered right away. “Baby, I’m on the other line—”
“He to-took—Cl-Claire.” I could barely get the words out because the sobs drowned out my voice. I couldn’t even see, the tears were so bad. Pain flooded my brain, emotional pain that was so physical it felt like my body was on fire. “She’s go-one.”
Twenty
Benton
The rifles and handguns were dropped on the table, and I strapped on my bulletproof vest. The front door opened, and in tears, Constance stepped inside, her hands clutching her arms as she proceeded to break down right in front of me.
I couldn’t help her right now.
“What…what are you going to do—”
“I’m going to kill every motherfucker in that place and get my daughter back.”
She approached the table, picked up a rifle, and tried to make sense of it.
“You’re not coming with me—”
“I’m coming…” She forced a deep breath and steadied her tears as best she could. “That’s final. Get me one of those vests and show me how to use this thing.”
The front door opened again.
I pushed Constance out of the way and fired the second I saw his face.
Bartholomew ducked and barely missed the bullet. He righted himself a moment later, brushed off the dust from his jacket, and then stepped into the room. “I need to speak to you in private—”
“They took Claire! I don’t have time for your bullshit, Bartholomew.”
He glanced at Constance before he looked at me again. “That’s why I’m here.”
I was too angry to think straight. The second Constance called me, my vision had tinted red, and all I wanted was to kill every motherfucker associated with Forneus. I would burn that place to the ground and everyone in it.
Constance silently excused herself, her cries echoing all the way down the hallway, even when the bedroom door was closed.
I stared at Bartholomew, so livid that a migraine immediately appeared at my temple. My broken heart was working so hard, harder than it ever had, and it strained every vessel and joint.
Once Constance was gone, his hard expression fell, revealing the softer side of him I barely saw. He came closer and kept his voice low even though Constance couldn’t hear a word. “He wants a trade. Claire for Constance.”
“You knew about this—”
“He called me after it had already happened. He said she’s in a room with a TV and some toys, completely unharmed. She’s asking when you’re going to come get her.”
The rage dwindled, and some of the tears I’d been fighting came through.
There wasn’t a hint of judgment in his eyes. “I don’t think you have a choice here, Benton.”
“We could kill him instead.”
“I have no idea where he is, and even if I could hunt him down, you’re putting Claire at risk.”
I closed my eyes, more tears coming at just the thought.
His hand went to my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
I shoved his hand away as I collapsed in the chair. The room started to spin. My heart turned inside out, and the blood seeped deep into my chest cavity. The pain was so raw, so potent, that I could barely handle it. I felt my body grow weak, like it wanted to stop working just to spare me the pain. Like death was the only solution that my mind could handle right now.
He pulled up a chair and sat right across from me, the guns on the surface between us. He stared for a long time, waiting for me to speak whenever I was ready to. When nothing came, he spoke again. “He said once the trade is made, you’ll never have any kind of interaction with him again. You and Claire can live your lives without fear. If you try to take Constance back…then he’ll kill Claire.”
I inhaled a sharp breath, the kind that made my eyes water in a different way. I felt so much rage but had nowhere for it to go. I felt so much sorrow that my heart couldn’t contain it any longer.
At least ten minutes passed, and nothing was said. Helpless, all I could think about was my daughter trapped in a room, waiting for me to come get her. I’d come for her last time—and she knew I would come again. But it came at a price…a price so heavy that it was like a Clydesdale standing on my chest.
He rose to his feet. “I’ll get the time and place…and let you know.”
“We do this now.” My eyes dropped to the table, thinking about my little girl surrounded by those freaks. Whenever she was scared, she crawled underneath furniture and pulled her knees to her chest. I knew she was doing that now—and it broke my heart. “I’m not…I’m not leaving her there for a second longer than I have to.”
Constance had stopped crying.
While her eyes were red and her cheeks puffy, the rest of her skin was pale white, like the snow we rarely had in Paris. She sat beside me, the fire in the hearth so dead that the coals weren’t even red anymore. All she did was breathe in and out—each one deep and purposeful.