crave | 16+

XXXVIII

JOSIE

I DIAL MY BOYFRIENDS number for the 4th time, and for the 4th time I'm sent to voicemail. Letting out a frustrated grunt, I kick the heels off my feet beneath my desk, and turn, so that I'm looking out over New York. He was already late yesterday, but I'd gone to sleep after receiving his text saying he'd be home in a bit.

Normally when he works overtime, he just creeps in next to me in bed, and we say hi to one another in the morning. But he wasn't in bed when I woke up. In fact there was no trace of him ever coming home. I try my luck, dialling his number again, but to no avail. Instead I'm greeted with his monotone voicemail.

I let out a frustrated grunt, throwing my phone in my lap. I stare out of the floor-to-ceiling windows in my office. I should be working, and answering mails, but I can't get myself to focus. Not when worry is gnawing at me like it is. Just when I think I'm about to go absolutely insane, the sound of a phone ringing cuts through the air. I hurriedly grab my phone from my lap, but my shoulders slump when I see that it isn't the one ringing.

Turning in my chair, I reach for my work phone and press the answer button, before bringing the phone up to my ear.

"Josie Moore speaking," I answer.

"Greetings, darling." My blood runs cold, by the sound of the familiar voice. "You might need to come down to the race-ring. It seems your boyfriend has painted the walls red."

My heart drops. "Is Elijah okay?" I quickly let out, packing my bag and turning my laptop off.

"Oh he's just splendid. Bastard left a trail of decapitated heads all the way to the parking lot, and left me to clean this shit up." The sarcasm coming from his voice causes more worry to surface through.

"Cain, is he okay? Answer me, dammit!" I snap, transferring the call over to my cell. I'm already walking toward the elevator, down to the cellar with all of Elijah's cars. He refuses to let me drive around in my own, seeing as his claims were; 'I have too many just sitting here – pick the one you like.'

Cain chuckles on the other end of the phone. "I don't answer to you, darling. Actually, I think your disobedient boyfriend went against my orders. I believe you're informed enough to know what happenes when the enforcer goes against orders–"

"If you touch him I'll kill you," I warn, cutting Cain off. I'm already driving down the street, breaking at least a dozen laws.

"I'll see you in five minutes, bambi. That's all you get, to come and talk your case, before I send someone after him for going rogue."

Just when I'm about to yell more protests, the line goes dead. I plant my foot on the speeder, making the motor of the car scream. Putting the clutch down, I skip from 3rd to 5th gear as I drive through the people on the road. Someone even goes to the length and tries to cut me off, but I expect his move, and swerve around him.

I turn left, and moments later I'm parked outside of the familiar warehouse. Bile runs up my throat when I see the spots of red on the asphalt in the parking lot. And then I throw my lunch up, when I see the decapitated head at the entrance of the race-ring. Cain wasn't kidding. The place is littering with heads, left and right, making it look like something from a horror movie.

I frantically look around for Cain, and quickly find him, standing with a woman next to him. The woman is perched up under his chin, and Cain is hiding her face away as he barks orders at the men cleaning the literal headless bodies up from the arena. My eyes catch the glint of a bloodied machete. A machete. What the hell happened to him?