I stare at a remorseful face, but I don’t ask the obvious question, which would be to ask what this is. ‘Do you regret it?’
‘Every day of my wicked life.’
Concern makes way for sadness. William Anderson – the man who loved my mother with a passion – lives with daily regret. It’s potent and alive. It cripples him. I can think of no words to ease his pain, so I do the only other thing that feels right. I reach up to the powerful beast of a man and cuddle him. It’s a silly attempt to lessen his lifelong pain, but when he laughs a little at my action and accepts my embrace, holding me tightly with his free arm, I think I might have at least made a minute’s difference.
‘Enough now,’ he says, the authority back in its rightful place. I’m detached from him, and as the room comes into view, I spot Miller hovering a few metres away, standing next to Gregory. My best friend looks like he’s in a trance, and Miller looks unusually calm, considering what he has just witnessed. He has on grey sweatpants, a black T-shirt and trainers. It’s an unusual get-up for Miller, but after the massacre of his masks, I guess he has no other option. Then the sports bag suspended from his hand catches my eye, and I allow a moment to process the earlier appearance of passports and William’s words.
‘Go,’ William utters, flicking his head towards the door. ‘My driver’s parked on the corner. Take the exit from the second floor and use the fire escape.’ Miller doesn’t swing into action, which prompts William to go on. ‘Hart, we’ve spoken about this.’
I flick confused eyes to Miller, instantly wary of the ferocity rolling off him in waves. His jaw beneath his stubble turns to rock. ‘I’ll crucify them all,’ he promises, his voice drenched in violence. It makes me swallow hard.
‘Olivia.’ William says my name on a simple breath. It’s a reminder, and Miller looks down at me, cognisance seeming to wrestle past the anger. ‘Get her away from this f**king mess until we can figure out what’s going on. Don’t drag her any further into danger, Hart. Damage control.’ William’s phone sounds from his hand and he curses as he answers. ‘What’s the deal?’ he asks the caller as he looks to Miller. I don’t like the guardedness on his face. ‘Go,’ he says urgently, remaining on the phone and pacing towards us. Miller seizes me and leads me to the door in the blink of an eye, William following directly behind.
I’m disorientated. I’m confused. I’m allowing myself to be hauled out of Miller’s apartment with not a clue as to where I’m being taken.
We’re in the hallway fast, Miller guiding me to the stairwell. ‘No!’ William shouts, making Miller halt sharply and snap his head back, eyes wide. ‘They’re coming up the stairs.’
‘What?’ Miller roars, breaking out in a stressed sweat. ‘Fuck!’
‘They know your weaknesses, boy.’ William’s tone is dark, and so are his eyes.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, breaking free of Miller’s hold, my eyes batting back and forth between him and William. ‘Who are they?’ I don’t like the cautious look William throws Miller’s way, not that Miller will notice. He’s beginning to tremble, like he’s seen a ghost, his skin paling before my eyes. ‘Answer me!’ I scream, making Miller jump and lift his brilliant blues slowly. They are haunted. It robs me of breath.
‘The ones who hold the key to my chains,’ he whispers, sweat trickling down his temples. ‘The immoral bastards.’
A sob rips through me like lightning as his confession settles hard and fast. ‘No!’ My head starts to shake and my heart rate rockets. I don’t want to ask. He looks truly frightened, and I don’t know whether it’s because they, whoever they may be, are on their way or because his escape is blocked and he needs to get me out. Intuition tells me it’s the latter, but it’s the former that has my heart squeezing in trepidation. ‘What do they want?’ I brace myself for his answer, wincing as he fights the symptoms of a meltdown, and when he finally speaks, it’s on a mere whisper.
‘I’ve handed in my resignation.’ He holds my eyes while I let the enormity of his statement sink in. And then my eyes flood with salty tears.
‘They won’t let us be if we stay?’ I ask, choking all over my question.