CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

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- NOW -

I WAS ROUSED BY a burst of cold air hitting my face. Blinking rapidly, I tried to clear the fog from my vision. For a long, panicked moment, I couldn't get a sense of my surroundings. I craned my neck, pain shooting across my forehead and down my neck at the small movement.

I was in the backseat of a car; that much I could make out. A large warehouse was right in front of us, visible through the windshield. I swallowed hard at the sight of it, my throat feeling raw. I had no idea if it was the same warehouse that Kellan had been at last night – the same one that Dad was hopefully still in.

I hoped it wasn’t. I did not want to get caught in the cross fire. Nathan and his men would be storming into the place at any minute.

"This was pretty useless," a voice said. I stopped moving and lay perfectly still. It was Slade, nose red and swollen from where I'd head-butted him. He had a syringe in his hand.

"My way was much more fun." Archie’s lip curled. Had he been one of the guys who’d broken into Kellan’s apartment that night? There had been three of them, though I had only gotten a good look at one of them that night.

Slade shook his head. "Crazy fucker."

As subtly as I could, I looked around the car, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in my forehead. I was alone, sprawled across the backseat.

I hoped that Phoenix, Axel, and Poppy were okay. I felt sick thinking about them and prayed that the cops had reached them – that help had found them.

My heart dropped to my stomach when I unwittingly made eye contact with Archie Chambers. Seeing I was awake, he hauled me to my feet. It was only then that I noticed that my hands were tied tightly behind my back. I'd been distracted by the pain in my forehead, but now I felt the numbness in my arms. My hands throbbed from the tight bindings, and a bead of sweat trickled down my forehead though I didn't think that I'd ever felt so cold. 

“Move.” He propelled me forward.

The few steps it took to get into the warehouse felt like miles. I stumbled along on shaky legs, feeling nausea rise within me at each step. There were two tall gates – one of which was propped open – leading into the warehouse.

Archie pushed me inside ahead of him. There were over a dozen guys inside, unloading and loading stuff into boxes. Some huddled in groups, drinking beer. They stared as they saw me. Several eyed me up and down in appreciation. Others looked away, not quite meeting my eyes. 

My eyes darted around, trying to recall the exits and rooms on Nathan's floor plans, but my memory failed me. I hadn't been sure whether this was the right warehouse, but judging from its size, and the number of men present, I guessed it was. It was the same warehouse Dad was in, the same warehouse that the FBI were going to storm into at any moment.

Despite the paralyzing fear I felt, a part of me couldn’t help but glance around, a desperate kind of hope filling me. Was Dad really here?

Slade came in behind me, cussing under his breath. There was dried blood underneath his nose, and my stomach churned at the sight of it. He shot me a nasty glare when he caught my eye, and I couldn't help but shrink away from him. There was a violent promise in his eyes that scared the crap out of me.

"Finally," a derisive voice said, and there was a ripple through the crowd. It was obvious that the person who had spoken was important, someone that these guys listened to.

I recognized Antonio Rossi immediately from his mug shot and the brief glance I’d gotten of him as he got into his car that day we'd broken into his house. He wasn’t a very tall man, perhaps five foot ten, but looked imposing and important in his sharp suit.

"You've done well," Antonio said, an easy smile on his face, though the hard look in his eyes seemed to say, “for once”.

Another man appeared by his side. I didn't recognize him, but he had the same powerful air around him, the same calculating tilt to his face. He eyed me with almost puzzlement. "This is what all the trouble has been about? Surely not, Tony." 

“It appears so, Frankie,” Antonio said. Now I knew who the other man was. He was a part of Cosa Nostra.

A woman came up behind them, touching Antonio gently on the arm. She was the only other female in the entire warehouse – at least as far as I could see – and I wondered what her part in all of this was. She looked much older than me. Early thirties, I was guessing, and had dark roots that had begun to grow out from the top of her platinum blonde hair.

All her focus was on Antonio, a doting look in her eyes. Standing on tiptoe, she whispered something in his ear. His smiled tightened.

"Fine,” he said, his eyes as cold as ice as they looked at me. “Our little chat will have to wait.” His stare shifted to someone behind me. "Put her in the back for now, Slade."

No. Please, no.

"Come on," Slade said, shoving me forward. He grinned sadistically at me, the anticipation in his eyes making me feel sick to my stomach. I backed away from him. Or at least I tried to. There was a solid wall of flesh behind me, and I cringed away from whoever I'd leaned into.

"She got you good, man," a guy chortled as he walked past. Slade's grip on my shoulder turned bruising. I wished my hands weren’t tied behind my back. I didn’t have a chance in hell in fighting my way out, but it would have made me feel less vulnerable.

“Wait,” the blonde woman said, hurrying after us. Leaning over to pull a knife out of her back pocket, she approached me. I stepped back, unsteady on my feet. Placing one hand on my arm, she used the knife to cut off the rope tying my wrists together.

“Thanks for that, Angel. Really. Thanks.” Slade sneered at the woman, looking pissed.

I brought my hands together in front of me, rubbing my arms and wrists to try and get some feeling back in them.

The woman didn't say anything to him. She didn’t even look at me, though she’d just helped me. Picking the rope off the floor, she stalked off.

Slade pushed me into a bare room that smelled distinctly of damp. A light bulb that looked like it was in the last stages of life dangled from the ceiling, barely illuminating the room. There was no window, and no furniture inside the room. I swallowed.

Rough hands pushed me to the ground. I landed hard on my hands and knees, but turned around quickly so I could see what was coming at me. Using my hands, I scrambled back from Slade, but he was on top of me before I could blink. Scared out of my mind, I screamed. 

"Get off me." I struggled against him, clawing at his face. I screamed again, hoping that someone out there might take pity on me. Slade’s elbow ploughed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. A pained gasp made its way out of my mouth, and he took the opportunity to clasp his hand over it.

"April?" a voice yelled, sounding frantic. "April!" 

My head jerked towards the door, my heart thudding in my chest at the sound of his voice. I’d recognize it anywhere in the world.

It was Dad. He was here.

I opened my mouth, ready to bite down hard. He seemed to read my mind, or he remembered that I'd done the exact same thing earlier, and quickly pulled back his hand. I took the opportunity to knee him hard between the legs, so glad that my hands were untied as I pushed him off of me.

I rolled away from him, jumping to my feet, but his hand shot out, clasping my ankle. I almost lost my footing, but a sudden commotion outside the warehouse distracted him.

"Drop your weapons. Drop your weapons!"  Shouts and yells made their way towards us.

Oh, thank God. The FBI were here.

Slade’s eyes widened, taking on a crazed look. He jumped to his feet, and I backed away. He didn’t look back at me though, and instead bolted out of the room for the exit.

I didn't hesitate. I was off the floor and out the door right behind him.

I paused for a split second as I stepped out of the room. There were people everywhere; LSG members and the SWAT team. Some were going quietly, others clearly putting up a fight.

"April. April!" Dad was still yelling, and it brought me back to my senses.

"Dad!” I screamed. “I'm here. I'm okay. Dad.”

I pushed a door open at random, and saw that Dad was inside.

God. It felt like it had been years since I’d last seen him. I wanted to weep at the sight of him.

He was pulling and straining against a pair of rusty silver handcuffs. He looked pale and gaunt, and painfully thin. My heart ached at the sight of him.

"April," he whispered, stilling when he saw me. His warm green eyes, identical to mine, filled with emotion.

"Dad," I cried, running to him. He enveloped me in one arm, the other still handcuffed to a pipe on the wall. Feeling how incredibly thin he was through the baggy clothes he wore, I felt fury at those who had done this to him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes. Had he always looked so old? His face looked tired, a dark beard, peppered with grey, covering half his face. I'd never seen him so disheveled.

"That doesn’t matter now," I told him, tears welling in my eyes. "We just need to get out of here."

"It might be better if we waited for things to calm down outside," he said, looking towards the door. As if to accentuate his words, a loud gunshot went off. It reverberated across the warehouse, leaving behind a chilly silence.

I took an involuntary step towards the door, panic and dread encompassing me. “Oh god. What if that was Kellan?"

"Kellan's here?" Dad asked sharply, before shaking his head. "Can you get the key for me, April?

It’s on that hook by the door.”

I looked to where he'd indicated and saw that he was right. There was a key right there.

"Why would they keep it so close to you?" I asked, fumbling with the keys.

"Just within arm’s reach?" Dad said grimly. "It's amusing to them." 

I tried the smallest key first, releasing a relieved sigh when it worked. He shook off the handcuff, and enveloped me into a strong – yet brief – hug.

"April! April?" I heard Kellan yelling through the chaos. I froze. He was here. And somehow he knew that I was here, too.

I stepped forward without thought, only realizing I'd moved when Dad pulled me behind him.

"Stay here," he murmured, moving towards the door himself. He peered out just as another gunshot went off. It was so loud, I swear my bones rattled at the sound of it. There was a thumping noise that sounded like someone hitting the floor.

Dad was suddenly wrenching the door open and disappearing into the fray. 

I stared after him for only a moment. There was only one thing, only one person, aside from me, that could have made him move so fast.

Kellan. 

I caught the door before it swung shut. There were arrests still being made. An FBI agent tackled a man to the floor just a few feet from me. Placing a knee on his back, the agent handcuffed the man and roughly pulled him up to his feet. My eyes searched the room before finally settling on Dad, crouched beside a body on the floor. 

The ground moved beneath my feet.

"Kellan," I whispered, swaying. Oh, God, no.

Running to them, I dropped to my knees beside Kellan. He was pale, so pale. A deep red stain coated his side, growing larger by the second as a pool of dark red blood spread across the floor. I stroked his hair, my hand lingering on his face. 

"Don't worry, ballerina. I'll live," Kellan croaked as Dad placed his hand on the wound, trying to still the blood flow. "Takes more than a small scratch to do me in."

My smile was tremulous. "It looks like more than just a small scratch," I said softly, fear cloaking my heart.

“Get paramedics in here. Now,” I heard Nathan bark to someone.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Dad on the other side of Kellan, looking between the two of us.

Kellan's eyes shifted to Dad, and they seemed to have a whole silent conversation.

There was a sudden burst of movement several feet away from us. Antonio, eyes wide and crazed, pulled a knife out from under a box. Max, who'd been in the process of handcuffing him, jumped back, narrowly avoiding it.

Antonio shot to his feet, swinging the knife about widely. He darted forward, grabbing the person closest to him.

Me.

I felt the coolness of the sharp metal against my throat and fought the urge to swallow.  

"Stand up," he said hoarsely. "Now. Put your hands up."

I stood slowly, seeing Kellan jerk as I moved back from him. Dad was still, his eyes assessing the situation.

Antonio pressed down harder on the knife, and I felt a dribble of warm blood trickle down my throat.

He began moving back towards the exit, clumsy in his hurry.

I saw Nathan lift his gun and then hesitate. I was standing right in front of Antonio. If he pulled the trigger, it was likely that he’d also hit me.

I didn’t know what Antonio was planning. There would be at least a dozen officers waiting outside. This could not end well.

I saw the second Nathan made up his mind to shoot. He cocked the gun, and I reacted without thinking, jerking my head back with all the strength I had left in me. Antonio grunted in pain, his grip slackening.

I wrenched myself free of his hold, just as Nathan pulled the trigger. The shot rang out. A body hit the floor.

I collapsed into Dad’s arms. Free. We were free.