Caine & Diana || ˢᵗºʳʸ ºf ᵘˢ

CHAPTER EIGHT - 131 hours, 3 minutes

Caine sat in a huge leather chair, the chair that used to be owned by the mayor of Perdido beach, swivelling around aimlessly. Diana was in the office with him, silently reading a magazine. He was waiting, itching for Drake to come back to hear the recent updates. There were two girls he had the birth certificates of - twins - who were meant to turn fifteen today. If Caine's theory was right, they would have poofed at exactly one seventeen.

Meaning he would poof in five days, on the twenty-second of November. He couldn't let that happen. Not yet.

Drake burst in the room, slamming the door open.

"Finally," Caine growled, standing up abruptly. "Well?"

"They both disappeared. Like that. Boom. Gone," Drake stood beside the desk Caine was behind. "It just happened."

Caine gnawed at his thumbnail and fell back into his chair, feeling anxious.

"What happened?" Diana asked, not even looking up from her magazine, dismissive, as if she weren't there. It bugged Caine that she wasn't helping, or offering suggestions, or even looking at him.

"The two girls you had me following. They both just took the big jump," he explained. In a mocking voice, he continued, "Or poofed, as that idiot Quinn says."

Caine leapt onto his feet once again. "Just like I predicted. Just like I said."

And yeah, he'd been right. He wished he hadn't been, though. Five measly days, he thought. It wasn't enough time! His eyes laid on Diana and he stormed over toward her. He had to take his anger out on somebody. Especially someone who didn't care about the situation he was in.

He snatched the magazine from Diana's hand and furiously threw it across the office. "You think maybe you could pay attention?" He demanded.

Diana sat up slowly, exhaling in annoyance. In a warning tone, she said, "Don't get pissy with me, Caine. I'm the one who said we needed to start collecting birth certificates."

Caine breathed out shakily and met her gaze. She was right. Of course she was.

"Yeah. That was a good idea," he admitted, "A very good idea."

Diana hid a smirk.

Drake, obviously annoyed at how Caine had so easily accepted her back talk, snapped, "Diana's boy Sam was there."

Unflinching, Diana looked at Drake.

"He was holding the girl's hand when she bugged. Looking right into her eyes," he recalled, his voice dripping with mockery, "See, the first girl goes and they all know what's coming at that point. The second girl, she was weepy over it. I was far too off to hear what she said, but you could tell she was basically wetting herself."

Caine zoned them out as they continued squabbling, too caught up in his own thoughts to care. He had to do something about this poof and quickly. Would Sam be of any assistance? Was that another reason to capture him?

Nevertheless, he should be dealt with. And soon.

"Knock it off, you two," Caine ordered suddenly, silencing them. "It's November seventeenth. I have five days to figure out how to beat this."

Drake grinned. "Five days," he repeated. "I don't know what we'd do if you bugged out, Caine."

Caine bristled, looking between Drake and Diana. He didn't want Drake taking control, of course, but he also couldn't leave Diana with him. Them together alone will definitely mean one of them dead. Most likely Diana. Not that Caine cared, of course.

Or...maybe he did. His emotions were so jumbled and complicated, he didn't know what to think.

Jack entered the room in a hurry, carrying a familiar open laptop.