Page 81 of Serpentine
The apartment Dad got me into is very nice—not that I thought it wouldn’t be. It’s in a prominent-looking building at the end of Main Street, one with a doorman in the front.
Not that having him there makes me feel any safer. What makes me feel safe is the fact that I know a Cobra is lurking somewhere beyond the building. Likely, Sully has had to get a break by now, but I know they haven’t left me unattended.
The massive kitchen is empty and clinical-looking. I make a glass of water and then meander into the living room. When I got home, I took a few hours to eat the food I picked up on the way to the hotel to get my things, and then I settled my stuff into the space. I don’t know why I had. Hopefully, I won’t be here for very long.
Opening my phone, I click on Google and type in keywords that might pull up any newspaper articles mentioning Brax and Miles’s mom.
One reads, ‘Missing woman in the Twin Pines area.’. I click on it and learn all I can, which isn’t much. Miles told me before I left that she’d gone missing on shift. The local police thought she ran away, but nothing was stated in the article to explain why they’d think that.
I wonder if there’s more to their childhood than they’ve shared with me, but I don’t have the right to probe if they’re uncomfortable enough to tell me themselves.
I sigh and lock my phone, grabbing the remote as I click it on. The news comes to life on the screen.
“There are no leads on the body found in front of the Portland pub,” the reporter says, and I pause my finger that was about to turn the channel to click through for something to watch, “All that the Portland Police Chief will tell us now is he believes it to be gang-related. The victim wore a jacket with the Jackal’s symbol on the breast and back.”
I lean forward, letting my feet hit the floor to remind me I’m not dreaming. This is real life.
Flashes of the Jackal I’d met in the restaurant bathroom flicker through my head and my breathing speeds.
“We also know a massive explosion was reported in the area known to be Cobra territory, Jane,” another reporter sitting beside the first on the screen says.
“That is correct, Bill. Seems like, for the time being, the streets aren’t safe. Everyone needs to be careful out there.”
Explosion?
My heartbeat is the only thing I can hear pounding away in my ears as anxiety builds in my chest.
I rush to my room and rifle through my purse for the burner. The one I’d planned on reaching out to Miles on after my first day at Dad’s company.
His number is the only one in the recent calls, likely dialed by the man himself.
It rings and rings, but no one ever picks up.
I want someone else to call, but I don’t have anyone else.
I rush out of my apartment and into the elevator, pressing the ground-floor button as quickly as possible.
“Ma’am, is there anything I can do for you?” the doorman calls as I pass his desk, rushing by as if I don’t see or hear him.
“Sully? Kylo?” I shout into the still night.
To my right, a stoplight is blinking yellow, and it has turned into a different mode for the lonely night in Twin Pines, where no one is on the streets.
“I know one of you is out here, damnit!” I sob, rushing to the side of the hotel, where an alley splits the hotel away from an insurance firm that’s locked up tight for the night.
A shadow moves in the alley. “Well, you didn’t call my name, Cobra Princess,” a voice says, stepping into the dim light of a street lamp overhead.
“Blaze,” I manage. “What’s happened? There was an explosion? Someone’s dead? Are they alright? No one will answer my call,” I yell.
His head hangs. “The compound is on lockdown. Nothing you need to worry about, though.”
Tears rush down my face in waves as I lift my shirt. “You see this?” I smack the healing tattoo with my free hand. “This means I’m one of you!”
He looks at the inked Cobra on my stomach and sighs, looking around. “They’re fine. But we need them to believe they’re not.” He grabs my burner and adds his number to it. “You text this number and give me updates from now on, alright? Don’t come out here making a fucking spectacle of yourself again,” he admonishes.
I nod frantically. “I didn’t mean to… I was scared.”
He steps closer, his ominous aura bearing down on me. “This is why love and this life don’t mix. But no one listens to me.”