“I’m not ready to die. I could have done so much more,” I whisper in a croaked voice and just like the last few times my thoughts wandered to what could have been, Marcus’s face returns. His heady scent surrounds me, paired with the chill that’s ever present whenever I think of him. Who would have thought the cold would be so comforting. If he could meet me there in my death, I’d accept it. I’ll go willingly, if only he’ll meet me there. My hand finds my cheek where he last held it and I imagine my hand is over his. I close my eyes, and I swear I can feel his lips against mine.
Creak, thump. The heavy door opens abruptly and the harsh sound rips through my thoughts. Swallowing down every emotion other than hate, I stare up at the hardened gaze from Brass. My body’s stiff and anger flows through my veins, keeping my tired body from sagging.
“Brass,” I say and his name is nearly a hiss from my lips. Contempt lengthens the single syllable. At first it’s hard to see through my blurred vision, but as I steady my breathing, the red light that appears in his hand becomes more clear.
It also explains why his gaze isn’t on me. It’s on a tiny screen from a silver and black video camera.
Thump, thump, thump, my heart gallops away.
He’s videotaping.
“I’m going to need you to do me a favor, Miss Jones,” he says as fear creeps into the back of my mind.
Even though my stiff body turns cold from head to toe from utter fear, I do everything I can not to show the terror that runs rampant at the thoughts of what he could possibly want to record.
As he steps in, so does another man. Slender in build, slightly taller. All in black and he wears a mask still. I’d feel a glimmer of hope at the sight of his mask if it weren’t for the camera. It’s not that he doesn’t want me to see him; he doesn’t want whoever is going to view this video to see who he is.
“My mother?” I ask him, needing an answer to one of the prevailing questions that have haunted me while he’s been gone.
Brass tsks as the second man shuts the heavy door. I can’t help but to watch as it closes completely with a heavy click and the slim light from the hall fades to nothing. Then there’s another turn of a lock. Someone must’ve locked it from the outside. Or it’s automatic when the door shuts.
“I’m so sorry to inform you, but,” Brass begins and then takes a deep inhale as if it pains him to tell me, “your mother didn’t make it.”
My throat seems to close on its own. As if I’m choking, but there’s nothing except for air present. The trembling that runs through my body is involuntary.
“Liar.” I speak the single word while attempting to hold back the shock and grief. I prepared myself for that reality. I knew it was likely, but still I prayed … Prayers have come easy while I’ve been caged by these four walls.
“We couldn’t have any witnesses,” he says and shrugs carelessly, although the thin, wicked smile stays put. “Your sister is lucky she—”
“Leave her alone.” My statement was meant to hold a threat, but with the sorrow still wracking through my body, I’m only begging him.
“This is good, but this is not what the video is for, Delilah.” Brass speaks clearly, not troubled at all as I heave in the wretched stench of the room.
My mother’s dead. With my head spinning and my emotions swarming through me, Brass approaches far too quickly, reaching down with his left hand, the camera firmly in his right. His fist grips my hair close to my scalp and my neck snaps back as he forces me to stare up at him. The the time ticking away as I gasps and scream into the camera with its steady red light.
“We’re making a family video, Delilah,” Brass says. “I need you to tell Marcus that he wasn’t supposed to intervene.”
Marcus. His name alone is chilling. I’m struck from hearing it. What does he know of Marcus? My Marcus.
Another second passes, and it’s too much time for Brass’s liking. With a nod to the masked man, he releases me. Falling to my palms harshly, I barely catch myself, struggling with the pain from before as a fresh burst of agony rips through me. The masked man struck me so hard on my cheek, my head whips to the right, blinding my vision and I’m knocked onto my back.
It happened so fast, I can barely grasp what happened.
Marcus. What does he have to do with Brass?
“He took what was mine. He intervened and broke our deal.” Brass’s anger shines through as he answers the unspoken question. My chest rises and falls faster and faster as I listen to him, slowly piecing it all together. “Herman was essential and Marcus knew that.”