Nonetheless, he hitches his overnight duffel up on his shoulder and steps forward to offer himself up for the exchange.
Meanwhile, Amber continues to address Victor. “I want to make sure you understand. I don't care what kind of relation this dude is to you. I will take out a gun and kill him myself if we don’t get Dawn back. She's under our protection.”
Phantom can take care of himself, and Amber assured them that his cousin would be made comfortable during his “visit.” Still, this is a lot to ask, especially of a fellow Dragon. Guilt gnaws at Victor’s stomach. But that guilt is overshadowed by the intense need to lay eyes on Dawn.
Victor agrees to Amber’s terms with a terse nod.
“He’s nodding,” one of the guards tells her.
“Sorry, I’m gonna need video consent for this one.” Ambers pulls out a phone and points it in Victor’s direction right before a digitized voice announces that she has started recording.
“Hey, hey,” Phantom says, holding a beefy hand up in front of the camera. “No pictures! No videos!”
“Oh, I'm sorry, you must've mistaken me for somebody you can order around,” Amber answers Phantom without lowering the phone. “I'm not letting Dawn go without some form of formal consent that he'll bring her back no matter what.”
Victor taps Phantom’s arm from behind to get his attention.
“It's all right,” he signs to Phantom.
Phantom furrows his brow. “Nothing about this is all right. If you ask me—”
“I didn't ask you,” Victor signs back, keeping his expression gentle but firm.
Phantom’s jaw works, but he lowers his hand from in front of Amber’s camera.
And Victor gives Amber a slight head nod before signing in ASL, “I will bring Dawn back in exchange for my cousin. You have my word.”
“He’s done signing,” one of the guards lets Amber know. He must understand sign language because he adds, “And what he said was legit.”
A digitized voice chirps, “Stopped recording,” and Amber lowers the phone.
“Okay, Butch,” she says. “Let’s do this.”
“My name isn’t Butch. It’s Phantom.”
“Really?” Amber replies. She makes a hand signal, and one of the guards pulls a hood over Phantom’s head. With military precision, each of Amber’s men takes an arm and swiftly escorts his cousin through a gate embedded in the hedge.
“Because you sound exactly like a Butch to me,” Amber calls after Phantom, walking through the gate behind him and her guards.
That’s the last thing Victor hears before the door closes behind them.
But, just a few minutes later, the hedge gate opens again.
And this time, Dawn walks out.
The sight of her hits him like a punch to the gut. His breathing turns shallow, and his blood thunders through his veins as he drinks in the sight of her.
Her expression is flat and unsmiling. She’s dressed in a loose V-neck T-shirt and a pair of striped, flowing shorts, with her usual Aggretsuko tote hanging off her shoulder. She wears her hair up in a bun, and she hasn’t bothered with makeup.
To Victor, she’s a beautiful ghost come back to life.
A ghost who walks right past him and climbs into the back of the Bentley without a word. By the time he gets in himself, she’s buckled in with both her face and torso turned toward the window.
She doesn’t talk to him after he climbs into the seat beside her. Nor does she say anything on the way to their first, but not ultimate, destination.
She pauses when she climbs out of the Bentley to see the private plane waiting for them on the airfield's tarmac. Then she pulls out the secret phone he still wishes he’d stolen when he had the chance and types a message to someone. Most likely Amber.
To his surprise, Dawn doesn’t acknowledge anything that’s happening to her at all. Especially to him.
He lets her board the plane first. Not out of courtesy. He has a bad feeling that if he sits down first, Dawn will choose whatever seat on the aircraft is furthest away from him.
And he’s right. When he takes the seat directly across from her, she fidgets and looks over her shoulder. As if she’s considering a seat exchange.
“Thank you for agreeing to my terms,” he signs before she can follow through on that impulse.
Her eyes meet his for the first time in two months. “Yeah, well, it wasn't like I had much choice. This is the only way I could get you to leave me alone forever.”
He knew this would not be an easy reconciliation. But the rage and resentment burning in her eyes make the guilt and remorse he’s been holding at bay threaten to overtake him.
He swallows and tries again. “I know things ended badly between us on our anniversary. I want you to know that I regret my actions and I’m sorry that—"
“If you were really sorry, I wouldn't be here,” she says before he can finish his apology. Her voice is as cold and dead as a frozen rat in one of their warehouses.