Chapter-Twenty-One-Hello.

Chapter-Twenty-One-Hello.
LORENZO’S POINT OF VIEW
I started to shake the moment the boys were gone.
My boy, God, please don’t take him away from me.
I hear Camilla and my wife crying, and I turn around to see them, wondering what the hell I should say to make them feel better.
“Girls, don’t cry. It’s going to be alright.” I try to sound as convincing as I can; I want to sound convincing, but that doubt, that sliver of doubt, makes my voice crack just the tiniest bit, but thankfully, my wife’s sobs make it impossible for them to hear it.
“My baby boy is missing. What if he’s dead? We didn’t get a ransom note.” My beautiful wife manages to say between her sobs, breaking my heart some more.
Yes, I was and am a very dangerous man, dealt with dangerous people, but when I’m with my family, especially my gorgeous wife, the danger takes a step back, and I become a loving husband, father, and grandfather.
“Shh, don’t say that. I’m sure he’s going to be alright.” Camilla hugs her, and I want to hug them both, but there’s still hope in my heart that we will find him, so I can’t waste any time.
“Yes, we’ll find him. Now, Camilla, please take my wife into the kitchen and give her something to calm down.” I just hope we’ll find him alive.
But I don’t say the last part. I don’t want to say it. I hate myself and my mind for even thinking it.
“And please don’t stress, I don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby. Darling, that goes to you, too, okay?” I plead softly, reassuring to the untrained ear, but since they both nod, it means my wife didn’t hear the fear or the fact that I’m on the verge of breaking down.
Or maybe she doesn’t want to hear it.
“Okay, but if I can help, please tell me and I’ll do anything,” Camilla says, and I nod.
“Yes, you can help by remaining calm while I go to my office and start looking for him,” I say, then turn because my eyes burn harder as if someone is making a pitfire behind them, and if they see me like this, they’ll panic.
As soon as I leave the room, tears start to fall. I’ve cried only once in my life, and that was also because of Adonis. He was born prematurely, and he almost didn’t survive. He spent a month in an incubator. He was so tiny and fragile. Now he’s grown and strong, but missing, and my wife is right... we didn’t get a ransom note.
God, I hope he’s not dead.
Just take me and give him back, God, please!
I barely manage to stop crying, but I force myself because I have to start looking for my boy.
My Adonis.
Please don’t be dead!
Please!
ARTEMIS’S POINT OF VIEW
Facts:
One: My finger didn’t work. I tried to give the command to my brain, but it didn’t make the connection with my finger.
Two: I need more time. I need to clear my head.
“I need plan B.” I talk to myself after I tied, cuffed, and blindfolded my target to a chair in my soundproofed basement.
Yep, I somehow ended up bringing him home with me.
“Okay, Artemis. Think… think… but think of what? Well, how to kill him would be a good start. Oh, fuck!” Why didn’t I just shoot him? I need answers, but my brain seems to have taken a step back, and it’s enjoying seeing me go crazy.
Okay. Baby steps.
Pacing the kitchen floor like a demented person won’t get me anywhere, so I need to occupy my mind with something else.
“I need a shower and a drink. A strong one.” I agree with myself and drink a glass of whiskey in one gulp, then pour another and head upstairs to take a shower.
I go under the water and close my eyes, hoping that when I open them, everything will be just a nightmare of mine.
I hope that nothing is real and that I get to go to Appoli and see him there. I fucking hope that he isn’t in my basement chained to a fucking chair.
FUCK!
I have to kill him before the word comes out that he is missing, and there’s no sign of the body.
Okay… breathe in… breathe out… in and out.
Good girl.
I finally calm myself down a bit, not completely, but it’s progress.
“I just need to take my gun, go downstairs, and put a bullet in his head. Easy peasy. Why am I tripping anyway? I did this more times than I can count.” I give myself another pep talk and realize that I’m talking too often to myself, and that’s not a good sign, so I shut my mouth.
I take a deep breath and go downstairs, feeling confident... almost confident… almost… and press the gun to his head.
Okay, now all I have to do is put some pressure on the trigger and I’m done.
All my problems will disappear.
“Come on! Just fucking obey me, you stupid finger!” Dear God, my finger doesn’t want to cooperate with my brain!
My finger hates me!
Why didn’t I kill him there? I just postponed the inevitable.
Okay, calm down. Let’s just calm down. Everyone is calm. I am calm.
“I’m fucking insane!” I take two bottles of water from the fridge I keep down here and drink one myself, and the other is for when he wakes up because he will definitely be thirsty after the drug, and I won’t let him die of dehydration. I did promise I’d make it quick, and that’s not quick.
Nice, now I’m cracking jokes.
Oh, for fuck’s sake! What the fuck is wrong with me? I killed hundreds like him. He’s not special. He’s a target. That’s all.
A fucking handsome, funny--- a target!
I decide to pace the floor for a while because maybe that’ll help, giving myself pep talks after pep talks.
“Okay, I have to kill him. Oh, fuck!! The note with the coordinates! Shit! I forgot about that! Now I have to go back there. What the fuck did I do? I am a fucking pro. I have to kill him NOW!” With this last pep talk, I reach for my gun, but I’m frozen in place by a deep, husky chuckle.
Please, God, don’t tell me that he heard me… and how much did he hear?
“You know, I feel pretty lonely here. If you need to talk, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Or am I?” His voice is low and husky, and damn... sexy as hell. Why does everything about this man have to be sexy?
And what’s wrong with him? He's chained, blindfolded, and making jokes.
He’s more fucked up than I am.