Scorch (Virtues & Lies 2)

“Arabella, we don’t have time for you be difficult,” Casper barks at me, his eyes constantly flitting back down the dark tunnel we’ve just come through. “I need to you to hold it together.”

“What happened? Where’s Christopher?”

“Don’t worry about him,” he says in an obvious brush-off. “We’ve got him covered.”

The sound of shattering glass echoes in the night air with sooty clouds tainting the perfect midnight blanket.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but you’re safe and…” His voice dries and his eyes dart back to the tunnel.

Something’s seriously wrong—he’s always cooler than a cucumber, but right now he reeks of fear.

“Tell me he’s okay.”

Casper looks down from his tall height, his eyes going to his feet with a nod. “He’s okay. But you need to go now.”

He’s barely finished saying the words before Murphy’s Range is screeching to a stop. Jumping out, he rounds the beast of a car with his gun in hand. Eyes darting all around us, he takes over from Casper. The rehearsed efficiency as he gets me into the front seat does nothing to soothe my overwhelmed panic.

Getting in beside me, he revs the engine to top speed before pulling away. I feel myself stick to the seat, as he navigates the dark streets around Whitehall Palace.

All the power is gone, the only light coming from the flames licking at the shattered windows and the emergency vehicles clustered around it.

My ears are buzzing and ringing, and I’m unable to make out what Murphy is saying. He’s speaking a million miles a second, his words clashing into one another.

It’s not until we hit the busier roads that I begin to wonder where he’s taking me. Up until now my concern has been solely focused on Christopher. What’s happening. If he’s okay.

Speeding down the Victoria road, past busy bars and crowded streets, Murphy turns into a familiar quiet street. Townhouses line either side, and in the middle, on my side of the street, two flags flap in the sharp November breeze.

I have no idea why he’s brought me to this hotel. It holds nothing but beautiful memories, and yet, tears sting my eyes as he opens my door and huddles me inside.

On autopilot, I take no notice of what’s happening. It’s only when Murphy sits me down and the fire warms my clammy skin that I look arou

nd me. Memories of smiles and laughs and kisses. Whispered words and beautiful promises. That’s all I see surrounding me.

Every girl dreams of being a princess on their wedding night. They dream of soft, tender touches and reverent kisses. But Christopher made me feel like a star burning up the infinite night sky. And just like every star has an explosive end, we are nothing but debris floating around in an expanse of lies and secrets, waiting to be sucked up by something greater or to collide to our irreversible demise.

“Here.” Murphy hands me a cool glass, and it takes all my sensibilities not to drop it. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I have orders.”

“I’m ordering you to stay.”

His chuckle is half-pressed and salty. “I’ll be right outside that door. The hotel is surrounded. We’re in shutdown. You’re safe.”

Watching as he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him with a click, I move to the window.

He wasn’t lying; the street is lined with official-looking vehicles, guards stand at the bottom steps, unmoving. They’re a muscled wall designed to attack at the first sign of a threat.

I’m unsure of how long I pace the thick carpet, but my legs are beginning to ache, and my feet are pulsing in my shoes. My heart is ready to beat itself still with the fear running through me.

I’ve no idea what’s happening outside of these walls. No clue whether my husband is hurt…or alive, because I’m certain Casper was lying. His words were empty. He couldn’t look me in the eyes.

Hurried breaths become teary gasps. All I can do is pray that Christopher is okay. That I’m going to see him again. That I will hear his voice and feel his touch.

I wish I’d told him I love him. How sorry I am for failing him. For failing our child. I wish I’d told him that all this is for him. It’s my penance for being less than what he deserves.