Page 7 of Ace of Shadows
I’ve woken up in some twisted nightmare. There’s no way this is real!
“You can see your mom after you tell us the truth!” Carl yells, suddenly grabbing me painfully by the shoulders. “She’s in a coma and she might make it, so tell us who you work for and maybe mommy dearest won’t need to know her daughter is the reason her husband is dead.”
“No, you’ve got it all wrong! I would never?—”
“Enough.” A third voice, deep like velvet with a touch of gravel on the end, suddenly rises up from the dark corner of my room.
Joseph spins around and reaches for his belt while Carl’s grip on my shoulders tightens enough that my bones creak. Tears flood my eyes and pour down my cheeks and suddenly, I’m sobbing, fighting to free myself from the cuffs keeping me tied to the bed.
“The fuck?” Carl snarls.
He melts out of the shadows like he’s a part of them. Deep blue eyes, light brown hair that sweeps down to frame his face and curls slightly at his square jaw. He’s a full head taller than both Carl and Joseph and the shadows sweep around his broad shoulders as he walks forward.
“Who the fuck are you?” Joseph demands.
“I said enough,” the stranger demands, his voice rumbling through the air like quiet thunder. “I won’t repeat myself a third time.”
“We’re officers of the law, you don’t get to—” Joseph’s words stumble to an abrupt halt when the stranger shoves what appears to be some kind of business card in his face.
“Yo, the fuck are you doing?” Carl demands, finally releasing my sobbing form.
Joseph suddenly takes a wide step away from the stranger and looks at Carl. “Dude. We gotta go.”
3
RUSLAN
She’s a mess, but I can’t say I blame her.
Fair blonde hair lies in tangled clumps around her shoulders. A deep bruise stands out on her forehead like spilled ink on a blank page, swirling around the stitched incision leading into her hairline. The only color on her face exists on her full, cherry red lips that darken as her sobs overtake her.
What a way to deliver bad news.
Carl stares at Joseph and a silent conversation passes between them, not that I give a shit. Whatever else Carl has to say dies as Joseph lunges for him, takes his hand, and drags him out of the room, leaving me alone with the sobbing woman.
Ivy Meyer.
What a fucking mess.
I remain at the foot of her bed and watch as her grief takes hold of her. She jerks frantically against the cuffs keeping her locked to the bed while tears stream down her cheeks and hoarse sobs bubble past her lips.
“No, no, no. It’s not true. It’s not. Let me go. Let me go home. It’s not true!”
“Tell me your name.”
She doesn’t respond to my question. She doesn’t even react to the sound of my voice.
“Help me,” she gasps to no one, wrapping her hand around her trapped wrist and pulling with all of her might. As she shifts against the unyielding metal, something must be hurting her, given how she gasps between her sobs and stops moving.
“Tell me your name.”
Again she doesn’t respond. She shakes her head back and forth and her hair moves around her face like curtains drifting back and forth. It’s long enough to hide her from view but fair enough that it offers no protection.
“I want my mom,” she begs while crying and hiccupping. “I want my mom. I want my dad! I want to leave, please let me leave. I need to get out of here, please, please, please—” Her words end abruptly as she lunges over the side of her bed and tries to grab the emergency button discarded on the floor by Carl. She can’t reach. She’s far too high up and the railing is visibly pressing into her abdominal stitches.
“Oi!” I slam my hand down on the table across her bed. The water jug jumps at the force and so does Ivy.
She throws herself back against the pillows, tears streaming from her vibrant green eyes, and she finally looks at me. “Let me go!”
