𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

T H I R T Y - N I N E

[jolene hale]

I grab a pen from the cup beside my hand and sign the paper. I look back at Lillian as the clerk walks to the scanner in the back of the building.

"So what type of supplies do you and Atticus need for the house?" I ask.

She crosses her arms and tilts her head as she thinks. She lists off a few things she'd particularly enjoy for the house, but nothing she definitively needs. I pull out a small pad of paper and write down a list of a few things I'd like to buy for her from the list once I have my cash in hand. I also write down a few things I'd like to buy for them just out of my own thought bank. I spin around and spot the clerk returning with my cash, one-thousand dollars, in hand. She hands it over to me and I nod, thanking her. I slip the envelope and the pad of paper into my purse and nod to Lillian.

"We can go now. I've got the cash that I need." I say.

She smiles and we begin to walk towards the large door we came in through. A loud bang echoes off the walls, back into my ears. Lillian and I both crouch, getting low to the ground. I whip my head back around, spotting a man with a gun holding a woman to his chest. In his other hand, he holds a knife—long and sharp, similar to a Rambo style hunting knife. He wears a mask, not a ski mask however, but a plastic Halloween mask of some sort. The breath in my throat hitches and Lillian covers her mouth with one hand, trying to stay absolutely silent.

"Everyone, stay down on the ground, unless you want to get shot." He says, his voice muffled by his mask.

The other desk clerk reaches for something beneath her desk and slowly lowers herself to the ground. I stand slowly, looking at him.

"That mask you're wearing? It isn't hiding anything." I say.

He spins to face me, still holding the woman to his body.

"What did you say, Skank?" He asks.

I clear my throat and exhale.

"Your mask isn't hiding your identity. I've seen your face. You came in earlier today to collect cash on your daughter's behalf." I say.

He drops the woman he's holding and approaches me now, raising his gun. The barrel of his gun presses to my forehead and a consecutive gasp escapes the lips of everyone in the bank, except for him and me.

"What's your name, girl?" He asks, his voice raspy.

"Jolene," I whisper, trying my best to stay calm.

"You listen here, Jolene, if a single cop comes through those doors, I will not hesitate to kill. And you will be my first target. Are we clear?" He asks.

I nod slowly. He removes the barrel from my forehead and grabs hold of the clerk from before, dragging her away to the back room of the bank. I collapse to my knees and tremble, clenching my hands together before me. What have I doomed myself to?

[graham eaton]

I lean against my locker, watching Atticus fiddle with something on his watch. The TV plays the local news channel, entirely uneventful news, but plays quietly in the background.

"This is a breaking news update with unconfirmed reports. Brought to you by Blake Harper."

I turn my head, staring at the TV. A woman, Blake Harper, sits at a desk before the camera and clears her throat.

"Good evening, I'm Blake Harper. Earlier today, reports of a suspected robbery at a local Chicago bank started to roll in. However, the instructions seemed less than clear."

Atticus' full attention is now on the screen before him. Whatever he may have been messing with previously has now become less than interesting to him.

"A silent alarm had been tripped at the local Chicago Country Bank just across the street from Fashion Outlets of Chicago, however, one desperate woman inside, believed to be a hostage in the Bank, is currently pleading with police to not go inside."

My heart plummets into my stomach. Our bank. The exact bank Jolene and Lillian went to. Our girls.

"We'll update you as soon as the reports are confirmed and sent our way."

I approach Atticus, swallowing sharply.

"That's my bank. That's where Jolene and Anya were headed." I say.

He exhales sharply and looks over at Rory. I retrieve my cell from my pocket and dial my Father's number.

"Graham,"
"Dad, what's going on? Is the report true?"
"We got a call from one of the clerks. She's begging us not to go inside."
"Why? You could go in and help. Why doesn't she want you to go in?"
"One of the Hostages has been directly targeted. The gunmen said that if a single cop comes through those doors, he's gonna kill her first."
"Oh my God. This can't be happening."
"Why? Graham, what's going on?"
"Anya and Jolene took the day off to go shopping for the house. They went to that bank."
"They're there? In the bank?"
"I think so."
"Find out. We'll keep out for now."

I hang up and text Jolene's cell, unsure if a call would put her at even greater risk now.

Are you safe?

No response. No reply. Nothing. I spin around and look at Atticus.

"Text Anya, ask if she's alright." I say frantically. "Hurry."

He retrieves his cellphone and opens the messaging app. He opens a conversation with Anya and types.

Are you safe?

The chat bubble pops up. She's replying.

No.

The tension hammers down upon us.

Are you in the Bank?
Yes.

I inhale sharply, shaking my head.

Is anyone dead or injured?
Yes.
Who?
Guard, Shot. Clerk, wounded.

My hands tremble beside me. I purse my lips together and inhale sharply through my nose.

Jolene?
Target.

I look at Atticus and everything goes numb. I feel like I'm floating in a void, waiting for even worse news to crash down upon me.

What do you mean? What target?
She's been directly targeted. First kill if Cops come inside.

"Holy Shit," Atticus says. "He's gonna kill her."

"No he isn't." I reply. "We're gonna kill him first."