Chapter 20
The ropes bit deeply into my wrists as I twisted, the rough fibers causing my skin to burn from the relentless friction. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, a frantic drum echoing the rising tide of panic within me.
The woman, Dan's mother, though she had yet to confirm it, turned her back to me, murmuring something hushed to the white-bearded man beside her. "Why are you doing this? You don't have to do any of this. This is your grandchild, don't be so heartless." She looked at me for a second but quickly continued whispering to the man. A small silver tray of sharp instruments gleamed ominously under the stark glare of a single harsh lightbulb. I didn’t need anyone to explain their purpose.
Not my baby.
I pulled against the restraints until my shoulders screamed in protest. The chair creaked ominously as they turned away, their heated argument drawing them into a temporary distraction. Seizing the moment, I sucked in a sharp breath and snapped my head forward, using all my strength to flip the chair over. It crashed to the ground, creating a cacophony that reverberated around the room. Pain shot through my ribs upon impact, but the shock on their faces was worth it.
“You little...” the man spat, lunging toward me, fury flashing in his eyes.
That's when it happened. The heat.
It erupted within my chest like a living thing, a powerful energy that crawled down through my arms to my fingertips. I didn't think about it, I just reacted. My palm brushed against the rope, and to my astonishment, the fibers began to smoke and smolder. A moment later, the rope snapped free, releasing one wrist from its prison.
In a desperate gust of adrenaline, I swung my arm wildly, the chair leg striking the man squarely in the shin. He reeled back, his curses mingling with pain. I quickly scrambled to my feet, yanking the other rope loose as the air around me shimmered and pulsed with heat.
“Grab her!” Dan’s mother shrieked, her voice cutting through the chaos.
The man lunged at me again, swifter this time, but I ducked under his grasp, using the momentum to slam the chair into his side. He went down with a grunt, momentarily stunned. My bare feet slapped against the cold concrete floor as I raced toward the door.
A heavy thud echoed behind me. He was relentless in his pursuit. I yanked on the rusty handle, but it didn’t budge. My stomach churned, locked.
“Think you can run, little Phoenix?” the woman hissed, her voice dripping with malice. Before I could react, the man’s hand closed around my shoulder with a vice-like grip. Instinct took over. Heat erupted from my chest to my hands, an intense inferno that filled the air with the acrid scent of singed flesh. He screamed, jerking back as the searing pain registered.
With no time to spare, I kicked at the door, putting all my strength behind it. The wood splintered with each blow. Once. Twice. On the third hit, the lock finally gave way, sending cool night air rushing into the confined space.
I bolted into the darkness, my lungs aflame, muscles screaming in protest. But I refused to stop. Shouts chased me, and a gunshot rang out, crackling painfully close. I dove behind an old, rusting truck, my heart hammering like a drum in my chest.
Another shot fired, sparks flying off the metal just inches from my head. I bit my lip hard, forcing back a cry of fear.
I will not die here.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a broken window along the fence line. This was my chance. I sprinted toward it, crunching the shattered glass beneath my palms as I squeezed through. A shard sliced across my arm, but I barely felt it. I hit the dirt on the other side and rolled, adrenaline fueling my every move.
\---
\[DAN'S POV\]
I pushed through the heavy bank doors, my gun held steady, scanning the room with a mixture of cold calculation and adrenaline pulsing through my veins. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, their intensity amplifying the tension that hung in the air like fog. Tyson moved with practiced ease, vaulting over the counter, his focus fixated on the vault.
“Get down, now!” I barked, my voice cutting through the murmur of confused whispers and frightened gasps. I assessed the terrified faces around me: wide eyes, trembling hands. Jack and Alex, my fellow accomplices, flanked the entrance, their intent gazes locked on the nervously shifting customers and employees. Fear swept through the air, thick and palpable, mingling with the tense silence broken only by the soft whimper of a child tucked away in the corner.
Tyson was working swiftly, his hands moving with surgical precision as he accessed the vault. I positioned myself near the doors, my focus darting between the street outside and the bank's interior, my instincts on high alert.
“Almost there, Dan,” Tyson’s voice was calm, but I sensed the urgent undertone.
No sooner had I directed my attention back to the room than I noticed a security guard shifting, his eyes flicking to his sidearm with a tremor of fear. My instincts kicked in, and I reacted without a second thought, tackling him to the ground. I pressed my knee into his back, my voice low and menacing. “Don’t.”
The distant wail of sirens grew louder, the ominous sound a warning that we were out of time. Tyson's movements were rapid and efficient as he stuffed cash into duffel bags. I stole a glance at the clock, my mind racing to calculate our escape route. “Let’s go,” I urged, my eyes still locked on the doors. The sirens were drawing nearer, a relentless sound rapidly approaching.
After a short car chase with the police, I managed to lose them, adrenaline still pumping through me. "Great job, we managed to bring home two million," I said as I dropped my guys off, trying to keep our victory in perspective. “Let's meet at the house tomorrow morning.”
“What if she finds out about this?” Tyson queried, annoyance creeping into his tone. I shook my head, frustrated that he didn't understand the importance of discretion.
“She won't find out unless you tell her,” I snapped. His expression shifted, and despite the tension, I caught a hint of relief as he clamped his mouth shut.
“Seems like you and my wife have gotten close, considering she got shot in your building, meaning she was with you.” I looked at him pointedly, noting the irritation flickering in his features like a flame. “Why the fuck are you annoyed? I’m the one who should be annoyed. I have an injured wife at home who’s pregnant just because you were too weak to protect her.” My patience frayed, and I accelerated the car, losing the calm composure I'd mastered all day. Tyson had a way of pushing my buttons like no one else.
He remained silent until we arrived at my mansion an hour later. Without a word, he jumped into his car and sped away, without even coming inside to see if Emerald was okay.
I clicked my tongue, still simmering with irritation that he hadn't given me any answers about what happened that day. I couldn't risk asking Emerald, not while she was still recovering. As I parked in the garage, I gathered the duffel bags of money and made my way to the basement, locking it away securely. I trudged upstairs, and an eerie silence met me, wrapping around me like a thick fog. As I approached the master bedroom, the door stood wide open, dark, and the absence of light confirmed the nagging feeling in my gut.
Something is wrong.