16
ORLANDO
I groaned, and opened my eyes. I felt plastic fabric on the back of my head. I was laying down in a booth.
I bolted upright. Cassie.
She was in danger.
I pushed to my feet and stumbled down the aisle. The gunmen were gone, leaving only two other passengers and the waitress in the dining car. One of them called out to me, asking if I was okay, telling me to wait. Demanding I not do anything rash.
As if such a thing were possible.
I had to get to Cassie. It was a burning need in my chest, the knowledge that she was in danger and I wasn’t there. I didn’t care that the men had guns and lethal intent. There was no reasoning with me right then. I would reach Cassie, or I would die in the attempt, and there was nothing in between.
I staggered through the connector between cars and into the observation car.
It was chaos now, passengers screaming and crying. No gunmen were present; this was the frenzy they left in their wake.
“My phone won’t work,” one man announced. “Does anyone have service?”
“Put it away!” a woman hissed. “They’ll shoot you for calling the cops!”
“So we’re just supposed to sit here and wait for them to get bored and kill us?” he said.
“They promised not to hurt anyone!”
“Yeah, and so did the 9/11 hijackers! We know how that went!”
I ignored their arguments and weeping. I was of a singular purpose as I strode down the aisle, moving from seat to seat, while the Chicago skyline drifted away in the glass ceiling.
Cassie was ahead. And I was almost there.
I found her sitting sideways on a seat with her elbows on her thighs, holding up her head. Her silky black hair was curtained around her face, shielding her from the spectacle all around. Now that I was close I could feel her mental state: she was close to breaking down.
Not saying a word, I laced one arm underneath her knees and lifted her into the air.
I carried her back through the dining car. She needed to get somewhere quiet. She felt like a wounded animal in my arms, too terrified to even breathe. I kissed her hair and pushed past people, using my foot to kick the button on the connector. The partition between cars was noisy with the sound of wheels on track, and the thin partition keeping us from open air rippled in the wind.
The train employees in the dining car were even more frantic than the passengers; the four of them huddled together in one of the booths, and jerked their heads toward me like I was the man coming to kill them. The waitress asked me a question, but I ignored her as I moved along on steady, purposeful feet.
The first of two sleeper cars had four people hanging their heads out of their individual rooms, speaking in low voices from the safety of their doorways. They ducked back in like scared turtles as I passed.
The second sleeper car was where my room was, and it was also the last car before the train engine itself. This one was deserted, and it was easy to see why: at the far end, at the door connecting to the engine car, stood one of the gunmen with his Uzi held lazily across his chest. He raised it a few inches as I slowly approached.
“Easy now,” he said. His accent was American, not Italian, and the skin behind his mask was a darker shade.
“My room is right there.” I pointed with the hand underneath Cassie’s legs. “I’m not coming any closer than that.”
The man lowered the gun. “Looks like you’re gunna have some fun. If she’s still out when you’re done, feel free to tap me in for a go.” His ski mask twisted in what was obviously a sick smile.
I’ve never felt rage the way I did in that moment. It was sudden and painful, a pressure at the corner of my eyes as I regarded this man who had even hinted of doing something terrible to my Cassie. To my mate.
God, I wanted to make him pay. The gryphon in my chest raged against its bars, demanding that I do it.
The only thing that stopped me was the woman in my arms. If she were somewhere safe I would have thrown myself at the man, gun be damned. But right now I had to get her away from all of this, to calm her down and let her know everything was going to be okay.
I’m going to kill you, I decided, nodding at the man. Before all of this is over, I’m going to watch you die.
The man’s sick laughter echoed through the hall as I carried Cassie into my sleeper room and locked the door.
It was the size of a medium closet, with a bed that folded down from the wall and a chair and counter next to it with a stainless steel sink. Standing in the small space meant Cassie’s head brushed against one wall and her feet touched the other. I lowered her to her feet, steadied her with one hand while using the other to pull down the bed, and then I helped her down into it.
“Shh,” I said, pulling the blankets over her body. She was trembling. “It’s alright. We’re safe, now.”
“You’re safe now, my love.”