“You want to test me on that, boy?” With the gun pressed to Cole’s head, he opens the door.
My mind spins. What the fuck do I do? I need to phone the cops. Tell them that one of their colleagues shot and kidnapped his own son.
The deep red stain on Cole’s T-shirt is slowly spreading. Nausea ripples through me. I tear at my hair as they exit the room. What the fuck do I do?
Spinning around, I search everywhere for my fucking phone. I need to call for help. Where the hell did I put it earlier? I find it on the floor beside the bed and throw myself at it. It takes me three attempts to unlock the screen and dial the cops.
With my phone pressed tightly to my ear, I wait for it to connect as I run into the hallway. Mia’s gone, probably to her friend’s house nearby.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
The police arrive minutes after Cole’s dad kidnaps him, but it is too late. They’re gone. A blonde female officer leads me out of the room to ask me countless questions while my head spins with possibilities. What if he hurts him? He already has. Cole has been shot. There was blood. Lots of blood. Where is he taking him? What is he planning?
Fuck…the unhinged look in his eyes—a man who’d lost everything and finally snapped. Cole’s dad is dangerous.
A paramedic tries to check me over, but I send her away with a hard glare.
“Did you find his mom?” I ask the police officer, interrupting her mid-question.
Her brows draw close together. “They’re trying to get hold of her now.”
“Fuck!” I tear at my hair and pace on the spot—two seconds away from driving my fist into the cement wall. My knuckles would take one hell of a beating, but the pain would be worth it. This restless energy coursing through me demands me to do something. I can’t stand around while they inspect Mia’s room as though they’ll find any clues in there. They won’t. Only a cum-covered bed and our blood.
It’s also pointless to phone Cole’s mom. She won’t pick up. He took her—I know it in my gut.
They finally decide they’re done questioning me and arrange for another police officer to drive me home. The streets pass by in a blur.Everythingis a muted blur.
The moment I shut the front door, smearing the chrome handle with blood, Dad pops his head out of the kitchen. “The trip got canceled—” His eyes widen, and he enters the hallway. “What happened?”
I stand there, seeing but unseeing as the fight leaves me. I don’t know when Dad crosses the hall, when he palms my cheeks to inspect my injuries, or when he pulls me into his embrace.
His arms constrict around me. It feels weird. Unlike Tiago’s mom, I can’t recall the last time he hugged me. Even when I was little, the extent of his affection was a pat on the shoulder or a ruffle of my hair. I was so happy on the rare occasions when he mussed up the short strands and told me that I’d been a good boy.
Dad means well, but he’s cold.
“Did Cole do this?” he growls, and my thoughts crash to a halt.
His Boa-arms squeeze tighter, or maybe it’s my imagination. I can’t breathe. I’m slowly suffocating to death. Crushed, like a tin can.
My muscles object as I untangle myself. I was too high on adrenaline earlier to feel the extent of my injuries, but now it hurts to move. “Why are you so quick to blame Cole for everything?”
Dad opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, “Do you even know where your wife is? Do you care?”
He frowns as I shoulder past him.
I can’t stand still. I need to move. I need to act.
Where would Cole’s dad take them? Back to their old house? No, it would be the first place the authorities check. He knows that—he’s unhinged, sure, but he’s not stupid.
Dad pulls me to a stop just as I’m about to escape upstairs. My foot barely touches the first step when his long fingers curl around my shoulder, and I look down. I’m still wearing my shoes, but the laces are undone.
“What happened, Blaise?”
I don’t get to tell him. There’s a knock on the door.
Dad sighs before the weight of his hand disappears, and he crosses the hall to open the door.
The same female officer who questioned me at Mia’s dorm introduces herself to my dad. They walk past me and enter the living room.
