Chapter Thirty-Five
Tom
Tom didn’t know how long he worked on the twine, cut by careful cut, always wondering if the next slice would be the one when his makeshift tool finally gave out on him. It could have been hours; it could have been days. It could have been years. The only thing he knew was that in all that time, he only heard Callum’s voice once. And after a while, Callum had gone silent. Whether by his own choice or not, Tom didn’t know. He wouldn’t be able to find out until he finished this.
The longer he waited, the more danger Callum could be in. But he didn’t dare go any faster and risk snapping his fragile shard of glass. He tried to pretend he was working on a piece of furniture in the back room of his shop, carefully sanding away decades’ worth of damage. In the shop, precision was paramount, and he had all the time in the world. He brought himself back there, smelling the familiar scent of old wood and sharp chemicals, until, at last, his wrists dropped down to his sides, free.
He rubbed at the chafed skin, wincing as he found the raw spots where his struggles had broken the skin. Then, bracing himself, he ripped the tape off his mouth in one quick motion. The fabric gag muffled his noise of pain. He spat the wad of cloth onto the floor, and let the tape fall beside it.
“Callum!” he called. “Are you here?”
No answer. All he heard were the distorted echoes of his own voice as they bounced weirdly off the machinery that surrounded him.
“Callum!”
Nothing.
He picked up a rusted length of metal from under one of the machines and started walking.
As the lights continued to flicker above him, he threaded his way through the apocalyptic landscape, toward where Callum’s voice had come from. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear these giant machines apart bolt by bolt until he cleared a space to Callum. He didn’t do any of that. He made as little noise as possible, in case Callum wasn’t alone; he placed his feet deliberately every time, and made sure he didn’t carelessly bump into any of the debris surrounding him. Slowly but steadily, he moved forward.
But when he reached the wall, and found the empty chains, he knew none of his caution had meant anything in the end. Callum was already gone.
He slammed the length of metal into the wall. The impact reverberated through his arm. He waited for the sound to draw someone’s attention, but no shouts came, and no footsteps. He was alone.
Well, there was no point in waiting here for Callum to come back. Wherever he was, Tom was just going to have to find him.
He started following the wall.
It wasn’t long before he found a staircase that led upward. The door at the top was locked, but it was also wooden, not reinforced metal like the doors above. He only had to throw his weight into it once for it to give up the fight, splintering on its hinges to set him free.
He held his metal bar ready, waiting for a guard to block his path. But the hallway was empty in both directions. Evidently they had trusted the twine and the lock to keep him where he was supposed to be. They wouldn’t make that mistake again. Or any other, Tom thought grimly as he chose a direction at random and walked.
The hallway didn’t give any clue as to where the exit might be. Tom turned right whenever he had the choice—that was the trick for finding your way out of a maze, he vaguely remembered his father telling him, back in the good years when his parents still did things like take him to the big corn maze in the fall. Or maybe it was the trick for reaching the center of the maze. After a few minutes of walking, he was starting to think it was the latter. Every corridor looked just like the one before it, and the one before that, and the one—
Abruptly, Tom stopped.
He stood perfectly still, nothing but the sound of his own voice in his ears. Not even the faint murmur he thought he had heard a second ago. Maybe he had imagined it; maybe he had been lost down here for long enough that he was hearing things that didn’t exist. But for a moment, he had been sure he had heard something. Not only that, it had sounded—
“—told you, he sent me to get them. I was supposed to have them across town ten minutes ago. What do you think he’ll say when he finds out you’re the reason they’re late?”
It sounded familiar.
That was Callum’s brother’s voice.
And from the sound of it, he had people with him. Two people.
Tom took off running.
He rounded a corner, and found nothing but another length of corridor exactly like the one he had left. But underneath the sound of his own footsteps, he could still hear Callum’s brother arguing in the distance. He turned another corner, no longer concerned with keeping quiet. Still nothing. On his morning runs, he had never worried much about speed, concentrating more on pacing himself so he could complete the entire five-mile route without flagging. Now, as he raced toward the sound, he wished he had trained differently. He would be too late; he knew it in the way his legs burned, in the sudden quiet that came after Alec’s last sharp words. Callum and Leila would be gone by the time he found his way out of this maze. Another corner—
And he saw them.
They stood in front of the door to the parking lot, the same door he had burst through in search of Leila what felt like a lifetime ago. Alec in front, Callum and Leila a pace behind. Callum held Leila’s hand in his. Neither of them, Tom noticed, were restrained. The man Alec had been arguing with was standing in front of the door, blocking it with his body. But now they had both gone silent.
Tom waited for them to turn to face him. He hadn’t even tried to hide his approach. But nobody turned. They didn’t even seem to notice he was there.
A second later, he realized why.
The door was opening.
The man who stepped through the door didn’t quite match Tom’s mental image. He was a little older, a little shorter, a little less broad through the shoulders. Even so, Tom knew exactly who he was the second he saw him. It was in the eyes—they were hard where Callum’s were soft, cruel where Callum’s were kind, but they were the same piercing blue that had left him frozen the night Callum had shown up on his doorstep.
So this was the man who had taken his daughter from him. The man responsible for trapping Callum in a life that didn’t fit him, and making him feel weak and worthless for wanting something more. The man who, if Callum was correct, was the power behind half the city’s criminal enterprises.
Tom’s grip tightened around the length of metal in his hands. His muscles tensed with the effort of holding himself back. But he didn’t rush forward. Instead, he ducked back around the corner, forcing himself to wait. To listen.
“What exactly is going on here?” Callum’s father rumbled in a British accent.
“I—they—” a voice Tom didn’t recognize—it had to be the man who had been blocking the door—stammered. “Alec said you told him to bring Callum and the girl across town. I called you, but your line was busy—that’s why I left the message. I wanted to verify with you personally before—”
“Leave,” Callum’s father interrupted. “Go home. The next time I see you, I expect you to have forgotten everything you saw here today.” His words vibrated with anger. No doubt that voice routinely left his subordinates shaking in their boots. But during his years in the army, Tom had heard that same tone too many times to find it threatening. He knew what bluster sounded like, and when someone was using anger to cover the embarrassment or fear that lay underneath.
The other man hesitated a moment before responding. “Are you sure? If there’s a situation—”
“Everything is under control.” Callum’s father’s tone promised dire consequences for anyone who contradicted him. “Now go. If I hear you’ve mentioned this to anyone, you won’t get a chance to regret it.”
The other man didn’t speak again. The door creaked open, then slammed closed. When Tom risked peering around the corner, the man was gone.
Leila had begun to cry silently, clinging to Callum’s hand like he was the last bit of dry land in the middle of the ocean. Callum’s father’s eyes passed over her like she wasn’t there. He swept his gaze over Callum with a look of contempt that left Tom clenching his jaw until his teeth ached. Then he moved on to Alec, and the contempt turned to fury.
“I thought you, at least, I could trust.” He shook his head as his hands tightened into fists. “I made sure you were the only one with access to the girl, because I knew I could depend on you. I gave in to your threats and agreed to everything you wanted for Callum, because I’ve always planned for you to take over when I’m gone. And how do you repay me? By working against me behind my back, just like your miserable brother. And for what? What do you gain from this?” He raised a fist, and for a brief instant, Tom thought he would strike Alec. But he lowered his hand, and seemed to sag as he did. “Why would you do this, Alec?”
Alec faced his father’s anger without flinching. “You don’t need the girl. She’s more trouble than she’s worth at this point. What does it matter if I send her with Callum? They’ll both be out of your hair for good, and if they’re on another continent with a good reason to keep their mouth shut, we won’t have to worry about repercussions.”
But his father’s face only darkened further at his words. “Excuses. I expected better from you. You chose your traitor brother over the family that has always cared for you. At least be man enough to admit it.”
“This situation has gotten away from us, and you know it.” Alec took a step to the side, placing himself firmly between his father and Callum. “We need a solution, and this is as good as any.”
His father shook his head. “There is an easier solution to all of this, and you would see it if you were still the son I thought you were.” He pulled a fat pistol from his waistband and aimed it at the three of them.
The world seemed to slow down, leaving Tom the only one moving at normal speed. Except he couldn’t move. He was frozen, caught between the desire to charge down the hallway like when he had driven through the gate, and the voice in the back of his mind telling him to simply accept what was about to happen—that this was the pattern of his life, it would happen over and over no matter what he did, and all he could do was take deep breaths and not let the grief or the fury touch him. Both voices, he realized, were saying the same thing. Whether he rushed in blindly knowing he would fail, or stood back and accepted whatever happened, he would be doing it because it didn’t matter. Because nothing mattered, in the end.
But that was wrong. It did matter.
When Tom stepped forward, the fire in him was no longer fueled by rage.
Maybe the voice inside him was right. Maybe Callum and Leila wouldn’t make it out of this no matter what he did. Maybe he was fated to stand by, powerless, as the people he loved suffered, over and over again. But until that happened, he would fight. He would fight for them, for Callum and Leila, not against some vague concept of a world that had it in for him. He would fight because he loved them, not because his own anger was driving him helplessly forward.
And if he failed, if he lost them, it would hurt like hell, because it was supposed to. Because he loved, and was loved, and even if everything else in the world was as meaningless as he had imagined on his darkest days, that love mattered. It was the thing he should have looked to from the start, not his rage at what the world had taken from him, not the strict emotionless self-control on the other side of that coin. It was the fire that drove him forward as he strode up to Callum and Leila.
Maybe Callum’s father saw him. Maybe he didn’t. Tom couldn’t say, because as soon as Callum turned his head to find the source of the footsteps, their eyes locked, and everything else in Tom’s world vanished.
He ran the last few steps to Callum. Someone was shouting in the background, but Tom couldn’t make out the words, not with Callum only feet away… and then only inches… and then not even that. His arms encircled Callum as their lips met, and finally, finally, he felt whole.
“I love you,” he murmured in Callum’s ear, because he hadn’t said it before—why had he never said it before?—and this might be the only chance he got. “I’m here.”
“I thought you were dead. Alec told me—”
“He was wrong.” Or had lied, more likely, in a misguided attempt to protect Callum. But that didn’t matter right now.
Callum laughed into his kiss. “You have some crappy timing, Tom,” he said, his voice a shaky mix of relief and fear. “But I love you too. God, I’m so glad to see you. I never should have—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Tom silenced him with another kiss. And then he pulled back and said it again, just to make up for lost time. “I love you, Callum. I’m never leaving again. No matter what you say to me.”
And then he remembered that he might not get the chance to leave again.
Reluctantly, he pulled away. He shifted so he was standing in front of Leila as he turned to face Callum’s father. The man was no longer aiming his gun at Callum, but at Tom—an improvement as far as Tom was concerned. His face was twisted into a grimace of disgust.
“Then it’s true what Callum said about the two of you,” Callum’s father said through curled lips. “He spread his legs for you like a woman.”
As Tom stared down the barrel of the gun, he felt no fear, no rage. But not because he was holding his emotions at bay the way he had for all these years. It was just that there was so much love in him that he had no room for anything else.
He smiled. “No, definitely not like a woman. But yes, I love Callum, more than I ever thought was possible. And I see the worth in him that you never could.”
Callum’s father gestured to the length of metal in Tom’s hand, which he had managed to keep hold of even in his embrace with Callum. “Drop it.”
Tom let the metal fall to the ground. It wouldn’t be any help to him against a gun anyway. Without letting his aim waver, Callum’s father kicked the makeshift weapon out of reach.
Behind him, Leila whimpered. Tom turned around and took her in his arms. Callum’s father wouldn’t shoot him yet, he knew—otherwise he would have done it when Tom and Callum had been preoccupied with each other. And if he was wrong, and the man shot him because he had moved to comfort his daughter… well, there were far worse reasons to die.
“It’s going to be okay,” Tom told her. “We’re going to make it out of here.”
Leila’s eyes were too old for her face as she shook her head. “No, we’re not. Don’t lie to make me feel better. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I’m not lying. The three of us are going to walk out of here. I promise.” In that moment, he knew he would make it happen. Because the alternative would be breaking a promise to his daughter, and that was unacceptable.
He turned back around and took stock of their situation. They had no weapons, and no time to plan. They had nothing but each other. That would just have to be enough.
He squeezed Callum’s hand. Callum returned the squeeze, the tightness of his grip betraying his fear.
Without letting go of Callum’s hand, Tom met Callum’s father’s eyes. “You’re going to let us walk out that door.”
Callum’s father made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “And what makes you think that?” Even Alec, who had been standing silently, seemingly unable to process his father’s betrayal, looked at Tom with confusion in his eyes.
“Because Callum can offer you enough to make it worth your while.” At that, Callum turned to him, eyes wide. Tom met his eyes, trying to communicate his intentions. And by some miracle, Callum got it. Tom could see it in the look of comprehension that crossed his face in the instant before he turned back to his father.
“What could he possibly have to offer me?” Callum’s father asked, in a way that made it clear he wasn’t expecting an answer.
But Callum had one for him. “Alec,” he said without missing a beat. “You could have shot us already, but you haven’t—and the only reason to wait is that you don’t really want to. It’s because of Alec, isn’t it? Without him, you lose your most reliable subordinate. You don’t trust anyone quite as much as you trusted him. You don’t know what you’ll do if you lose him—and some part of you is still hoping that you still won’t have to.”
Alec’s mouth hung open slightly as he listened to Callum. Tom guessed Callum had never spoken to his father quite like this before.
“And you don’t have to,” Callum continued. “Once we’re gone, he’ll go right back to being the same person you’ve always known. This isn’t about his loyalty, it’s about me, and I think you know that.” From the look on Alec’s face, Alec himself wasn’t sure about that—but his father wasn’t looking at him. He was focused entirely on Callum, skepticism and hope warring on his face.
“If you shoot him, you’ll be costing yourself a resource you can’t afford to lose. And if you shoot me, you lose him whether he’s still alive or not. But if you let us go, all three of us, we’re not around to cause you problems anymore, and Alec is still here, ready to do whatever you need.”
Tom could tell by the look on Callum’s father’s face that he was tempted. But in the end, he shook his head. “I’ve risked too much already for the two of you, and this is where it led me. No more risks. No more second chances. Both my traitor sons will get what they deserve, and the Syndicate will be better for it.”
His finger tightened on the trigger.
But he was still only looking at Callum. Not at Alec, whose expression of uncertainty was beginning to morph into raw fear. And not at Tom, who darted forward and elbowed him hard in the chest. He fell backwards; the shot hit the ceiling. The gun was in Tom’s hands before he had a chance to shoot a second time.
“It was a good offer,” said Tom. “Maybe you should have taken it. But that wasn’t the real reason you’re going to let us walk out of here. The real reason is that you were too afraid of looking bad in front of your people to keep even one ally here with you. You let yourself get distracted, and when you did, you didn’t have anyone to protect you.”
He hauled Callum’s father to his feet. He could fulfill every violent fantasy he’d had involving this man right now, if he wanted to. He could kick him to the floor and pound his face in until he couldn’t move. He could simply shoot him in the head right here. He could make him pay for everything he had done to Callum—everything he had done to all of them.
But those fantasies didn’t spark anything in him anymore. He would get no satisfaction from any of that, no matter how much the man deserved it. And while killing him would undoubtedly be doing the city a favor, for Tom, keeping his promise to his daughter was more important. If they were going to get out of here, they needed him alive.
He planted the gun firmly into the man’s back. “Your people are going to let us through that gate. You’re going to make sure of it.” He shoved Callum’s father, none too gently, in the direction of the door. The man’s jaw was clenched as tightly as Tom’s had been a few moments ago, but he didn’t even try to fight. He let Tom propel him out the door, and the others followed.
Someone had come and hauled away Tom’s car, some detached part of him noted as they crossed the parking lot. This was going to be fun to explain to the insurance company. He was going to have all kinds of phone calls to make, and a new car to buy, and his insurance payment was going to go through the roof… and God only knew how he was going to pay it, now that he had probably lost all his regular customers after keeping his business closed for over a month…
A silly grin spread across his face as he thought about all the work it would take to put his life back together. Because he was going to be alive to do it, and Callum would be right there beside him. And Leila, too, because there was no way he was letting her go back to Carrie—not for a long time, at any rate. And this time, his life would be about more than keeping himself under control. This time around, it would be all about the people he loved.
Whenever they passed one of the factory guards, Tom jammed the gun harder against Callum’s father’s spine as a reminder of why they had bothered to bring him with them. Every time, he signaled the guard to let them pass. He seemed to droop a little more each time, no longer able to bluster away the feeling of defeat.
Tom felt no sympathy for him whatsoever.
Only once they were well past the gate did Tom let the weapon drop. Briefly, he considered shooting the man right here… but on a busy downtown street, that wouldn’t go unnoticed. He cared more about being there to take care of his daughter than he did about killing the pathetic man in front of him. “Get out of here,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the factory. “And don’t even think about trying to find us.”
The man all but scurried back down the street. The four of them watched his retreat in silence.
“You can go back, you know,” Callum told Alec. “I know it’s where you want to be. Just promise that if I call you, you’ll answer.”
Alec didn’t move. “He was going to kill me. He was going to kill you. And the thing with the girl… you were right about that, Callum. I just didn’t want to admit it.” He shook his head. “Taking over for him is all I’ve ever wanted, but now… I don’t know. I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“Then come with us until you figure it out.” Belatedly, Callum looked over at Tom. “That’s okay with you, right?”
The time when even Callum had seemed like too much of a criminal to involve himself with seemed very far away to Tom. “He saved your life,” Tom answered. “He can have whatever he needs.”
For a moment, they were all silent as they watched Callum’s father finally disappear into the crowd.
“I wish we didn’t have to let him go,” said Tom, as the space where he had been began to fill with people oblivious to everything that had just happened. “He’s going to keep on doing what he’s always done. Someday it might be someone else’s daughter in danger. And we’re going to have to run like we planned, just in case he gets any ideas.” He turned to face the others. “But we’ll be together, and that’s the important thing.”
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Callum’s face.
“We’re not going anywhere,” said Callum. He sounded almost smug. “And he’s not going to hurt anyone else, ever again.”
He reached into his pocket. Tom didn’t know what he expected him to reveal, but it wasn’t the handful of folded papers he held out.
Alec seemed to know something Tom didn’t, though, because his face went white. “What did you take?”
“Not much,” said Callum. His smile broadened. “Just information on how to contact the head of the Syndicate, and proof of how my father was holding back profits from all his jewelry scams. There’s a lot more where this came from, but this should be more than enough. He won’t be running this city for much longer, and no one else’s children will be in danger because of him ever again.”
All Tom could do was kiss him.