*SAGE
Five hundred million dollars?
I felt my eyes widen in shock. Was this Xavier guy being serious? He acted like it, and the crowd didn’t flinch at his proposed number. In fact, some guy in the back actually raised his hand. I could not believe what my eyes were showing me.
Five hundred million dollars. And Xavier had a taker.
“Do I have five twenty-five?” he said without hesitation.
Two more hands raised in the crowd.
My mouth had dropped open without me realizing, and when Beckett glanced over at me with a grave face, I closed my lips together. Xavier pressed on, more hands raised.
Seven hundred.
Eight hundred.
The tingling started at the tip of my head and slowly worked its way down through my torso into my legs and toes. I couldn’t move. I didn’t realize just how crucial I was to these people and their plans.
We’d never make it out of here.
Xavier’s voice rose with the strong number of bidders. “Do I have nine hundred million?”
Nine hundred million dollars.
But before anyone could answer, a body dropped through the ceiling and landed on the cello sitting in its stand in front of an orchestra member.
Gun in hand, Jack stood up from his crouch among the broken pieces of wood and smiled right at Xavier.
*
He wore a black fitted t-shirt, black jeans, black boots. All of it accentuated his physique, the bulk of his muscle.
Jack looked good.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be around him, forgotten what it felt like to watch him move—with such fluidness, and assurance, and strength. It made me think Jack believed that even solid objects would move out of the way for him. Maybe they did.
The last time I’d seen Jack, he was falling toward the ocean below me, away from the helicopter where I watched in horror. It had been a good idea at the time. And yet, here he was again, the two of us together, right where Vasterias wanted us. So it made me wonder if it had all been a waste of time.
Jack kicked free from the cello debris, looking back at the musician as he stepped out of the orchestra section.
“Sorry about that,” he said as he brushed off the front of his shirt.
He turned, still holding his gun, and called out to the crowd. “Hello everyone! It’s J. A. So happy to see you all!”
Jack reached for a steak knife from the nearest table, and using his left hand, flung it toward the guard nearest him. The knife grazed the guard’s hand, which had been inching its way to the holster at his waist. The knife stuck into the wall behind the guard.
“Tell your men to keep their guns holstered,” Jack said to Xavier.
“Don’t shoot them,” Xavier said in a level voice, eyes connecting with his guards around the perimeter of the room. “Don’t shoot any of them.” Xavier glanced toward the table where Beckett and I sat, clearly making the connection as to why Jack would actually be here. Still, Xavier seemed less disturbed and more intrigued by Jack’s entrance than anything else. This made me shift nervously in my seat. My hands gripped the edge of the table.
Jack stepped up to the table that he’d gotten the knife from. He jerked at the corner of the white table cloth, pulling the cloth off the table and leaving all the dishes undisturbed.
The woman in the purple dress and bright pink lipstick sat closest to Jack at that very table, and she gasped.
Jack smiled at her as he wrapped the tablecloth around his neck, forming a mock superhero cape. I couldn’t tell if lipstick lady was completely enthralled or completely terrified by him.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Jack spread his arms wide at the onlookers. “You wanted a show, right? A display of the science you’re all vying for?”
Jack reached in, leaning over lipstick woman, and grabbed a handful of grapes off the table centerpiece. Yes, she was definitely gathering some sort of thrill from Jack standing so close to her.
Jack tossed all the grapes high in the air.
Before they had a chance to land on the ground, he shot a bullet through each of the five grapes. They exploded, sending little pieces of skin and tiny drops of juice raining down. The gunshots rang through the ballroom, the sound bouncing off the marble floors, ricocheting off the ceiling tiles.
Lipstick lady covered her ears, along with others, and yet, her eyes were wild with excitement. Xavier stood, unflinching on stage.
“Impressed?” Jack called out to the silent crowd. “No? Not impressed?”
He grabbed another knife off the table and sent it flying toward the glass display case on the stage. The glass shattered as the knife pierced the dome. The crowd gasped. Jack followed it with another knife, which knocked the stand out from underneath the petri dish resting inside the glass dome. The petri dish clattered to the floor. The crowd gasped again.
Xavier made a step toward the dish. A knife went sailing by Xavier’s cheek.
“Please don’t move,” Jack said, gun raised at Xavier. “There’s no need for pretense about the eggs.”
Xavier tensed at Jack’s admission, looking uncomfortable for the first time.
Jack turned and ran at the wall between the stage and the orchestra, getting halfway up the wall before back-flipping off it, his cape trailing behind him, producing the appearance of his body briefly flying. He landed near the stage, just opposite the shattered display case, Xavier and the podium in between.
Again, Jack turned toward the crowd. “Do you like it?” he shouted.
The pink lipstick lady clapped three times before realizing no one else joined her.
Jack aimed his gun at Xavier as he stalked across the stage. He pulled the other gun from his belt, tossing it across the room to Beckett.
When Beckett caught it, shocked expressions erupted from all the members of our table: He was part of this? But how? He’s so friendly, so innocent!
Jack lifted the petri dish that had fallen to the marble floor. He held it up above his head.
“This is what you’re all here for?” A mocking tone filled Jack’s voice. “This?”
Everybody in the room seemed frozen in mixed terror and awe at Jack’s boldness. Those within Vasterias—who knew the truth about the eggs—looked less horrified than those who believed they were real, but everyone sat stunned in a sort of numb trance at the show.
“Beckett?” Jack called, holding the petri dish in Beck’s direction.
Jack glanced over at Xavier and shrugged. “Just in case.”
Jack tossed the petri dish up in the air, and a gunshot rang out next to me at the table, making me jump.
The guards stepped away from their positions at the walls.
The petri dish fragmented into tiny pieces. Beckett lowered his gun. Inside, I felt my body give an internal sigh of relief at the destroyed petri dish, even though I hadn’t believed the eggs were really mine. Now, even if I had fainted with Dr. Stanstopolis at headquarters, and she actually had extracted my eggs, the threat of the possibility had been removed.
“Don’t shoot them,” Xavier said again. Then, looking at Jack, he said, “I hope you’re planning on paying for those.”
Words meant to protect the façade crumbling around the fake eggs.
“That depends,” Jack said to Xavier as he jumped down from the stage and ripped the table cloth from his neck. “Were you planning on paying Sage and me for our ‘donations’?”
Beckett took my hand now, prying it from its grip on the table, and pulled me from my seat, moving toward the French doors next to the veranda.
A bullet chipped at the marble at my feet, and I let out a small scream, as did some voices from the crowd.
“Let go of the girl, or I’ll shoot her,” Sven said. He stood on the dance floor only twenty feet away.
Beckett dropped my hand, but I couldn’t tell whether the shock on Beck’s face was real or feigned.
“Do not shoot the girl,” Xavier repeated.
Sven’s gun aimed at my chest, as if he didn’t hear Xavier at all.
“Don’t even think about it,” Jack said, striding forward and leveling his gun at Sven.
The ballroom fell completely silent.
“Back away from her,” Sven said to Beckett.
To my surprise, Beckett took a few steps back, arms raised. He and Jack nearly stood side by side now.
“Tell your brother to lift his gun, or I shoot the girl,” Sven said.
As if to prove his point, his thumb pulled back on the hammer.
Beckett swallowed. “Jack, raise your gun.”
Jack seemed to debate for a moment and then lifted his gun. Sven didn’t move his aim off me.
The guards were closing in, their guns drawn, all aimed at Jack and Beckett.
Then, as if the brothers communicated with each other through some unspoken language, their bodies moved in timing with one another, and they both took two leaps backward toward the glass French doors.
They jumped simultaneously, diving through the glass and out onto the veranda, their shoulders hitting the doors first to break the glass. They moved with synchronization that came only from living with someone most of your life and knowing them so well that your response to their actions came from instinct, not from talking or thinking about it.
My heart contracted. I knew I was supposed to follow them because they were outside now, and I was still inside with all these people who wanted me but didn’t care about me.
Jack and Beckett were already sprinting across the veranda toward the lawn.
Why were they leaving me?!
Why weren’t they waiting for me or shooting into the crowd to keep the guards back? Something? Anything? This wasn’t going the way it was meant to go.
If Vasterias kept me and locked me up here in this mansion, if they had their way with my body ….
No.
No, I wouldn’t let it happen. If I died trying to escape, it was better than dying inside these walls.
Luckily, I had the long slit up my dress.
My heart pounding, I took one last look at Sven’s gun barrel trained on my chest. I spun, sprinting toward the broken veranda doors, glass crunching beneath my high heels. I heard guards moving in behind me, Sven with them.
My jaw clenched in frustration at how slow I felt. I surged forward harder, knowing this was my only chance to make it out. But my heels slipped on the broken pieces of glass. My left hand dropped to the floor to catch myself. My palm sliced open on a shard.
I cried out for the boys to wait for me.
Before I could lift myself again and dive out the door, a guard grabbed my arm. I kicked him in the stomach with the point of my high heel. Another guard came at me, and I used a move Jack taught me on the island; my thumb pressed hard into the soft spot at the guard’s throat. He backed away.
Before I could spin and focus on whoever approached me from behind, Sven had hold of my arm. Another guard grabbed my other.
I jerked against their grasp, yelling at them to let me go.
Xavier nodded at Sven as they pulled me away from the French doors—a sign of approval at the way Sven had handled the entire situation—and motioned for guards to go after the boys.
The entire room had fallen silent, still under some sort of magical spell, shocked at Jack’s show of physical prowess. Shocked at the dissolution of their beautiful night.
Dallamore approached Sven, his voice shaky. “This way. To her room. Let’s get her to her room.”
I screamed, struggling against the two men until Sven shook me so hard it made me dizzy.
“Stop fighting us, girl,” he said into my ear.
My exit from the ballroom drew just as many stares as when I’d entered earlier this evening. Except now my dress was torn and my hair had fallen out of its elegant up-do. Loose strands fell over my eyes, but I could still see the crowd of people frozen in their places—some glued to their chairs, others huddled against the back wall.
Only Dr. Adamson seemed entertained by the entire unfolding. He hadn’t moved from his chair, and now, he took another sip of his drink.
But the rest of the faces that watched me looked much paler than earlier in the evening and maybe even a little afraid of me.
Beneath my anger and feelings of abandonment, I embraced this with full satisfaction.
No, I am not the compliant little girl you believed me to be, am I?