“What was your friend’s name?”
Stacy squeezed her eyes shut. “Spencer. Spencer Rankins.”
“Do you have contact information for his family?”
“I-I don’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke.
The nurse’s voice softened. “That’s all right. I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Drake. Thank you for the information you have given me. We’ll figure out what to do from here.”
Stacy didn’t remember how the conversation ended, only that the nurse was speaking one moment, and the next, her phone was silent. Her hand was limp in her lap, holding her phone. Rowan and Kiera shared a look. Stacy managed to get out a few words. “Amy’s going to be okay. Spencer…he…”
“I know,” Rowan murmured as he turned down a road cloaked in trees and darkness. “I guessed as much from what I heard of your end of the conversation.”
“This is all my fault,” Stacy choked out.
“It is not,” Kiera inserted sharply. “You weren’t the one who hurt them. Those fuckers—”
“If I didn’t need to get back at Victor, they would never have gone to the gala! They would never have…” Stacy was shaking. “Rowan, we must get to the hospital now. I have to see Amy!”
Would she ever forgive Stacy for this?
“I can’t do that,” Rowan quietly responded despite the anguish on his face. “No doubt the hospital has called the police. The place will be swarmed, and you’re covered in blood. You’ll be questioned. Remember, Victor has a hold over the city police commissioner, too. It’s a perfect way to trap you, whether or not Victor intended things to happen this way.”
Cold realization washed over her. Victor had sent his goons after Amy when he realized Stacy wasn’t at the hotel.
“We should return to the estate,” Kiera spoke up. “Prepare its defenses further in case Victor sends anyone to attack it again.”
Their words pierced Stacy with fresh agony, but she knew they were right.
I will honor your sacrifice, Spencer, she vowed inwardly. I will ensure Victor can never do something like this again. She didn’t know how, but she would find a way. For Spencer. For Amy.
New feelings surged through her, battling for dominance. She’d had some victory tonight, but the cost had been too high. It had cost them Spencer.
Had she crossed a line? She thought she was fighting for justice, but maybe she’d entered vengeance territory. What the hell were they supposed to do now?
Stacy’s mind swarmed with maddening thoughts. At last, she broke. Heavy sobs racked her body, and she dropped her face into her hands.
Kiera placed a comforting hand on her back. “There, there. We’re going to figure it out. All of us.”
But not Spencer. Kiera’s words did little to comfort her. This wasn’t right. None of it was.
Stacy imagined Spencer’s smile, the way he looked at Amy, his kindness as he trained them at the gym. The world was a more dismal place already without him. She wondered about his family. She’d never met them, but they must be wonderful people to raise someone like him.
I fucked up.
“Stacy, don’t worry about Amy,” Rowan told her. “I will attend to her health personally.”
“Don’t worry.” They felt like such fragile words. Stacy felt fragile. She slumped against Kiera, weeping uncontrollably. Please, Amy, be okay.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I’ll be home soon, Margie,” John Turnbower, police chief commissioner of New York City stated into the phone. “I’m finishing up a few things at the office. Shouldn’t be much longer.”
He hung up, thinking of the meal waiting for him at home. The office was quiet. No one else but a janitor was on this floor. Occasionally, the shuffling sounds of a mop and broom passed in the hall. A vacuum ran at one point. It all faded into background noise.
His phone buzzed with a message flashing onto his screen. His brows furrowed as he read about a car chase involving a journalist and her date who had gone to Corbinelli’s gala earlier that night. Apparently, both the young woman and her date had been shot. The man died at the hospital, and the woman was in questionable condition.
Corbinelli was behind it. John didn’t know why, but he was certain of that. He felt it in his bones. Police were at the hospital now, investigating as far as they could. They had no one but the hospital staff and witnesses of the chase to question since the journalist was unconscious and the men chasing her had gotten away.
Plenty of car chases and shootings happened in the city. John heard about them every day. Something of this magnitude hadn’t occurred in a long time, though. Usually, these sorts of disturbances were in rundown areas, not near ritzy hotels, against people attending galas.
John glanced at his desk, where an old photograph of himself and Victor from decades ago sat in a frame. He shook his head and sighed. “What did you do now, Vic?”
John thought of his last visit from Lenny Dolos shortly before the lawyer died. Another act of Victor’s, no doubt. Lenny had revealed that Victor was losing it. John thought that was rich coming from Lenny since the lawyer had always been one frayed thread away from snapping.
Maybe Lenny had been onto something, though. John had been stewing on it for weeks now, wondering what he should do.
Can I do a fucking thing? he wondered. My hands are tied. They have been for a long time.
He thought of Margie and his sons. Victor had a wife and son he cared about, too. They’d do anything for their families, regardless of how morally inept it made them. John felt sick. The only proof Lenny had of Victor “losing it” was that the Titan had become hyper-focused since starting a project involving “possession and transformation.” Whatever the fuck that meant. Those were the words the lawyer had used.
John still felt cold to the bone thinking about it. Victor always had his secrets and projects, but something about this felt slimier than the others.
The sharp ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts. “Fuck’s sake. When can I get a moment of peace without someone calling me?”
It was Victor’s name on his screen. John sighed, knowing he had no choice but to answer. He had a strong feeling he was about to be asked to cover something up. He forced a casual tone to his voice. “Hello, Vic. How has your night been going?” He already knew the answer. Not well.
