“They don’t know she’s really with me, Bastian.”
“Is she?”
“Don’t fuck with me right now.”
“I’m not, brother. I’m not.” He sighed.
“They drugged her. She’s a recovered addict, Bastian.” I couldn’t hold back the shake of emotion in my voice.
My brother tried to calm me down. “Okay, look, we’ll handle—”
“I will handle it,” I corrected. “They’re mine now.”
“Cade, we agreed to be allies—”
“I didn’t agree to anything. You did. I never agree,” I reminded him. “And in my world, details matter. They didn’t want to figure out the details before they drugged the girl I love—”
“You’re in love with her now?” Bastian’s tone changed.
“Figure out how you want to cover up the chaos, brother. Because I’m about to unleash it.”
“Jesus Christ, Cade. I can’t cover up your shit. Can’t we wait a second and—”
“I’m not waiting. And get ahold of Dante and Lilah. They need to swing by my place and pick up Izzy’s cat.”
“I’m not dealing with a cat when you’re about to fuck up everything, Cade. You need to chill.”
“I am. And you better deal with it.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond as I hung up and pet the cat’s head. “You’ll see your mom soon. I promise you that.”
No one had authority over the world like I did.
And I intended to exercise that authority to the fullest in the next few days.
26
Izzy
I fought when the needle hit my arm. I’d survived opiate addiction, and I was sure whatever they had in that syringe, my body was going to suck it up and feel a high I never wanted to feel again.
So I fought. I fought hard.
It wasn’t the fear of experiencing a drug. I’d done that already. It was the fear of losing my sobriety, of losing to the addiction I’d fought so hard to overcome.
When two men had rushed into my apartment as I sat there decoding, my instincts kicked in immediately. I’d been trained years ago for undercover work. I knew the basics in self-defense.
I scrambled for my phone and hit record because it was the first thing I could reach before they knocked it from my hands. I kicked one of them in the balls and tried to shake the other free from my arms.
Two large men against me wasn’t really a fair fight, though. And I was out of practice.
I got a good claw across his face before he hit me hard in mine, and the other guy pulled my arms back and locked me there while his friend pulled a needle from his jacket.
Fear hadn’t really hit me until that point.
I’m not proud to say I begged. As I struggled in their arms, I hated how desperate I sounded. “Please. Please. I’ll go with you willingly. I’ve been sober nine years.” I choked on a sob. “Please.”
“It’ll be easier this way,” he murmured in my ear. He said it softly, like he was doing me a favor.
I screamed, I cried, I struggled.
I lost.
One prick of the needle, and it only took half a minute to feel it. The one I’d tried so long to avoid.
It was faster, stronger, and more potent than the last time.
I could lie and say it didn’t feel good. Hitting that high always felt good, though. It was a drug for a reason. Still, tears slid down my face at the loss before the weight of my head felt like too much.
“Fuck, dude. She’s not going to OD, right? If she’s sober, it’s going to hit her harder, right?” The man spoke English and then switched to Albanian. Back and forth, back and forth.
Nothing mattered anyway. I’d floated off.
I was gone.
Their questions faded away. The question of whether I would survive this faded away. My worries faded away.
Everything faded away.
The rough scrape of cement on my cheek wasn’t a welcoming wake-up call at all.
Even as my body woke, I didn’t move a muscle. My brain was foggy, my heartbeat erratic, and my concern for my well-being was on high alert.
It didn’t take long for the effects of the drug to roll through me. I dry-heaved and curled into myself as the shivering started. I’d promised myself I’d never go through this again. I’d believed it too.
What do you do when your choice is stolen from you and leaves you with nothing but the aftermath?
Tears wouldn’t help me now, but they still fell over my cheeks. I tried to shake off the turmoil I felt, but defeat could be suffocating. It held my breath and light and hope for another day hostage as it weighed down my soul.
But I wasn’t a victim of addiction. I was a survivor. Lucas always said it took him and the drug to succumb, not just the drug. I tried to remember that now.
It would take me giving up and not moving for me to surrender to the fate they wanted for me now.
I wiped my eyes and scoped out the space. I was on dirty cement, and they’d left me alone with four walls surrounding me and a metal door.
No windows. No light except what came from under the door. A toilet in the corner. And that was it.
As my stomach cramped and my body shook, I embraced the symptoms. Withdrawal was a bitch, but it meant the drug was leaving my system. It meant I’d survived the blackout.
Those moments on my own lasted for hours, maybe for a whole day. I know I went to the bathroom, that I crawled around the four walls to confirm my surroundings, that I moaned in pain as I rubbed at the injection site.
Still, I tried not to dwell. Coping with my failures gave my mind something I could control. I focused on the kidnapping, on how they spoke Albanian, on how they came for me. It proved I was close to something; it proved they were doing something illegal, and the only thing I’d found lately was what I’d dug into on my computer at work.
Albanians were rigging the election, and this confirmed it.
Now I had to determine exactly how they were doing it, then get the hell out of there before they killed me. I didn’t know which part would be harder.
Yet, when the first guy walked in hours later, I figured I might actually be able to pull it off.
Alteo wasn’t a very smart man, although he was massive. He smiled, showing crooked teeth, as he saw me sitting up in the corner. “Oh, good. You woke up, huh? My boss was very nervous you would die.”
I lifted an eyebrow. That was confirmation they didn’t want me dead. “Yes. You could have killed me. Why didn’t you?”
He waved away the question and brought me a plate of food. It was just chips and a hot dog, but even though my stomach growled, I didn’t take it.
“Oh, please eat.” He shoved the plate my way after he placed it on the ground. “If we wanted you dead, you would be, right? So what would I put in your food?”
I pointed to the injection site on my arm. And a wave of sadness hit. Nine years was a long time to earn back. No one knew how proud I was of it, but I did. It was a painful thing to think about. Painful and unfair. I’d thought about relapsing before, but at least then it would have been my own choice.
“So.” He cleared his throat like he was embarrassed. “That was to help. To calm you down, huh? My friend shouldn’t have done that. Let’s forget about it.”