Into The Crucible

CHAPTER VI: Cinders in the Air

JULIUS

"WHAT do you mean?"

The moment the butler had spoken, I felt a dark knot of emotion rising from the pit of my stomach.

First disbelief, then pain.

I was flung into a vacuum, a moment of vacant silence. Then, pain. Pain gathered into a stinging stab sinking deep, sending venom that made my heart hammer away as it knocked the breath back into me. My brows furrowed together.

Cecil's voice crackled over the phone, colliding with the rumbling of cars. They were on a road. A crowded one, it seemed. "Lucian was shot, sir. I'm taking him to the hospital as we speak."

"Shot?" I growled, barely keeping my tone even. "How . . . how did this happen?"

"An ambush at a reception held at the complex. There was a gunman chasing him down."

I began to pace back and forth across the floor. "How did they not notice?"

"The crowd was occupied by a fireworks display, and I believe it may have been used to the advantage of whoever sent him."

Fireworks. "And Lucian?"

"Alive. Wounded and currently unconscious, but alive."

"Wounded?" Images of blood and scars flashed in my mind-my son's body, limp and pale. Unmoving. "What wounds?"

He stayed calm. "Nothing that will threaten his life, sir. Four bullet wounds, two just grazed him and the other went through his arm. The other is lodged in his shoulder."

"And you didn't call an ambulance?"

"I had to make a judgement call. It was either wait for an ambulance or drive him there myself."

I took a calming breath. My grip tightened as I held myself back from shouting. "Get him there," I commanded. "Make sure he is safe!"

"On it, sir." Then he hung up.

I lowered the phone, hand trembling, and tossed it towards the bed. Almost immediately, my body collapsed on the sofa. I raised a weak hand to my mouth, feeling my slow exhale as the nauseating feeling ebbed and flowed, evaporating into something else. A numbness I couldn't fathom. Blank, hollow, and yet somehow of a deeper nature than the stabbing throes that still rang in my ears.

My eyes fell towards the opened valise and its scattered contents arranged on the table. It seemed so feeble now, unimportant. Hours and hours spent poring and absorbing, to find something useful. I shook my head.

I should not have left.

And yet I did, and with the rising clarity of a premonition slowly being unfettered, the fear set in.

First my daughter, and now my son . . .

I struggled against the lump in my throat, threatening to form.

At this time, I could only assume the worst. Nothing else mattered now. The news was still very fresh to me, and it stung like a damned barrage of bullets to the chest. But there is no time to be weak. I cannot afford it. I must not sink into it.

I had to make a solid choice. And I could not waste time for anything. Struggling between logic and emotion was a fight I often found myself in.

There were calls to be made. I stood, throwing on the suit jacket. My hand reached for the valise, already running down what I need before my fingers managed to grasp it. There were many. I arranged the files back inside and snapped it shut before reaching for the phone again. Outside a strange pitch black had blanketed itself all around the city, rendering the ashen buildings no less duller. After a last glance, I dialed in a number.