𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

F O R T Y - O N E

[Graham Eaton]

Atticus follows me, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed.

"Graham, don't do this." He says. "Dad's gonna be pissed."

I scoff and roll my eyes at him.

"Do you really think I care what Dad thinks? He's not gonna let me go in, not under his jurisdiction. Besides, that gunman said no cops. We aren't cops." I say. "It's perfect. He can't stop us."

Atticus shakes his head and frowns.

"Graham, I'm not going with you. If you wanna do it, fine, go ahead. But I'm staying here." Atticus says.

I furrow my brows and shake my head.

"Atti, those are our fiancée's. The girls need us. Don't tell me you're going to bail now." I say.

He looks at the building, back in the direction of the vent, then looks back towards me. His eyes are dark, full of concern, a deep shade of the same ocean blue our father's eyes have.

"I can get you inside, but I'm not coming with. I can't disarm the sensors but I can set them all off at one spontaneous moment long enough for you to get inside. You'll have to be quick, though. Too long and they'll recognize that it's an attack from the outside." Atticus says. "That's all I can do. I'm sorry."

We approach the staircase and climb to the roof, lifting the door to the ventilation shafts. Jax approaches us with a computer ready to access the security mainframe.

"I understand why you're doing this. I would too if my Fiancée was in there. I wont tell your father you're in there, Graham. You have my word. If someone else tells him, thats on them. But it's safe with me." Jax says.

I nod, tucking my gun in the back of my waistband. Atticus types a long complicated sequence of codes into thecomputer and nods.

"They're down. You've got about one minute before I've gotta kill the signal to make it seem legitimate. Hurry through those shafts and get to the gate. Once you're in, radio or text me and let me know you're safe. We'll go from there." Atticus says.

[jolene hale]

I sit inside the bank, wringing my hands tightly as if my life depends on it. The cold tile beneath me sends a chill up my legs into my back. Anya holds my hand furiously tight, her heartbeat pounding in her fingertips. A rapid beeping noise echoes from the computer on the desk above me, echoing off the tile floor around the lobby. A woman across the lobby sobs out, covering her face with her hands. The tall gunman grabs hold of the clerk, pulling her to her feet, dragging her to the desk.

"What is that God-awful beeping noise? What's happening?" He asks.

She trembles in his grip, examining the monitor before her. Her eyes are full of worry and she brushes one strand of curled ginger hair away from her eyes.

"The motion sensors in the vents were tripped." She says.

My heart plummets. Does this mean the cops are here? Does this mean my life is over?

"What does that mean? Is someone trying to get in?" The gunman asks.

The ginger clerk shakes her head, swallowing sharply as her eyes land on me. 

"No. No, of course not." She states. "They were all tripped simultaneously. This happens every few weeks. The system we rely on for security purposes refreshes every three weeks and trips all the sensors in our ventilation shafts. You can see it was a system refresh because all four sensors went off at the same time or within seconds from each other."

The gunman has dark eyes, cold and empty with little light left within them. He turns his head, looking at me. My hand grabs hold of Anya's and my bottom lip quivers beneath my teeth. He turns his head, a small smirk of satisfaction making its way onto his face. 

"Is there a service gate for those vents anywhere in the building?" He asks.

The ginger clerk nods and exhales shakily, closing her eyes as she thinks.

"Yes. Second floor, right hallway just off the stairs. Just across the hall from the CEO's office." She says. "Tan door with a yellow warning label. Can't miss it."

He releases the ginger and allows her to return to her seat on the floor. He approaches a soldier, standing before him, motioning for him to stand by wiggling the gun. The soldier looks about thirty-five years old at the max, tall and firm with deep chocolate brown skin and buzzed ebony black hair. The gunman spins around, looking through the crowd. He finds a tall white man dressed in plaid flannel, jeans, and a neon yellow worker's vest... construction or surveying possibly. The gunman nods and motions for him to stand as well, raising his eyebrows as he brings both men together.

"I want you two to take this gun and go and check the service gate. If anyone's in there, you shoot them. As many times as you need. I want you to kill them. And if you do, bring me the body." The Gunman says.

He hands a gun to the soldier and nods to them both, ushering them to the marble staircase beside me. I look at Anya and exhale sharply.

"Oh, Jolene," The Gunman states. "Just rest assured knowing that if someone is in that vent, I will not hesitate to send a message to the police using my agreed-upon target. Remember that."

Anya covers her mouth, shaking her head. I take her hand again and purse my lips together.

"It's alright. No one is in that vent. I'm gonna be okay. I promise." I state.

She nods and blinks away the tears collecting in her eyes. I exhale and silently pray that my intuition is correct and there is in-fact no one in the vents. Although this could be an attempt to save us, my life is far from over. I want my eternity with Graham, but at this rate, I dont know if I'll get it.