Rouge: Act 4 – Scene 36

Kian

Deep down, I must’ve known I would go back for her. There’s no doubt why I chose to go to the Elysian Bar right across from the Baron Suites instead of crossing the overpass back to the McKennon.

Fecking hell, am I grateful for that decision now. It’s pouring rain when I sprint across the plaza, and even though I’ve already called Lacey seventeen times, every one of them has gone to voicemail.

Thankfully, Merek has his head on straight. I hung up straight away after his last warning, but he texted that he’s called the authorities and told one of the employees he befriended to leave a universal swipe key for me at the concierge desk.

There’s no one behind the desk when I reach it, but the key sits there for me like a beacon. I snatch it up and rush toward the elevator.

Once inside, I use the universal key to unlock the top floor. When its icon lights up, I slap it and the “close door” button at the same time. I’d race up the stairs if I knew I could outrun an elevator up fifty flights, but I have no time to waste and this will have to do.

The music and the wait as I ride gives me a chance to breathe, but I spend the time unholstering my pistol from underneath my shirt, pacing, and ripping my hair out. I glare at the blinking numbers as they slowly increase and I try to prepare myself for what I’m about to see. The entire time, my mind won’t shut the feck up.

What if Merek had been able to immediately link my app with the surveillance… if we’d found evidence to free her father sooner… if I’d trusted my goddamn instincts and kidnapped her again instead of listening to her insist on being the fecking sacrificial lamb.

“Fuck!” I whirl around and slam my fist into the elevator’s mirror wall. It cracks like a spider web, making my reflection as jumbled and broken as I feel.

I want to do it again, but I pull up my mobile and begin to text, instead. Only when blood smears on the screen do I realize that rivulets stream from my knuckles down the veins of my forearms. I can’t be arsed to stanch the bleeding, so I swipe the screen clean on my black shirt and try to send out the message again one-handed, but Merek’s text bubbles up on the screen.

My fingers fly over the keyboard.

Instead of texting, he calls me and my blood turns to sludge in my veins.

“Listen man, wait for me or the paramedics, alright? You don’t want to go in there.”

“The feck I don’t. You can see her on the camera, right? Is she alone? Is she okay? How badly is she hurt?”

“He… he strangled her. Once he started he didn’t let up. He knew what he did, too, because he ran out of there like a criminal. She hasn’t woken up yet…”

“Don’t say it,” I growl, but Merek’s never been one to shy away from the truth.

“She’s… she’s gone, Kian.”

I slam the mobile against the metal doors with a deafening bang. The device crunches to the ground as microscopic glass fragments explode in the air like sparkling dust. My feet stagger backward until the cracked wall stops me. The pistol clacks against my head as I tug my hair with both hands. All I can do is watch the numbers change, listen to the floors ping ping ping by, and try to tune out the jarringly upbeat elevator music that taunts my sanity.

Before the elevator slows to a steady halt, I lower my stance and hold my pistol out in front of me. As soon as the doors slide open, I barrel out into the hallway.

The empty hallway.

It’s eerily quiet. The top floor is supposed to be full of various suites that Monroe uses as his residence here, with one at the very end being the Elephant Room. Merek said Monroe left, but Lacey is still here. Wouldn’t that mean that someone should be on guard?

Not if she’s dea—

“No,” I growl under my breath.

Shaking my head, I rid myself of the thought before I run down the carpeted hallway. I go as fast as I can on light feet, careful not to make too much noise in case someone has been left in charge. Anxiety burns my lungs until I get to the door with the elephant sign next to it and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. My feet slow and I force myself to breathe past the fear lodged in my chest.

The door is cracked.

Nausea churns in my stomach as my fingers touch the metal. Heavy hotel doors don’t crack open. They’re too heavy. But the security latch at the top of this one has been lodged between the door and the frame. Whatever is inside… someone wanted it found.

Did Monroe know I would come for her?

I raise my gun with one hand and gently push the cold metal door with the other. It opens silently and once I get inside, my eyes dart around the room to clear it for threats.

The studio suite is just as I remember it from years ago, with a living space, queen-size bed, en suite bathroom, and a kitchenette. Elephants cover nearly every inch of the place in colors so bright they would hurt your eyes after too long.

It’s in total disarray now, though. The glass coffee table is shattered, gold and silver elephant statues and figurines are strewn about, and panic begins to paralyze me when I can’t find Lacey.

But then, I see her.

My blood runs cold even as my heart punches into overdrive from the adrenaline pumping into it. Lightning flickers through the window wall, outlining my wife’s prone body. She’s sprawled on the marble in front of the glass as if someone threw her into the window and she collapsed at the bottom.

“Tine?”

My voice is hoarse as I whisper, but I have a sick pit in my stomach that she wouldn’t answer even if she could hear me. I trip toward her until I collapse onto the floor at her side, landing on the sharp diamonds that were ripped from her crimson dress and now glitter around her.

“W-wake up, Lace.”

But her eyes remain closed. Her left wrist lies at an uncomfortable angle by my knee, clearly broken, and there’s a red scrape on her bare left ring finger.

Fuck.

More cuts and scratches slice across nearly every inch of her arms, no doubt made by the broken glass coffee table behind me. Her gorgeous strawberry-blonde curls are now soaked by the blood pooling from the back of her head and they lie flat against the formerly pristine white marble. Her face is unmarred. Light-brown freckles stand out against her ghost-white skin, and her rouge-painted lips are parted. But as I sit here, counting my own inhales and exhales, her chest doesn’t rise and fall with mine.

I saw a crime scene photo similar to this one only a few weeks ago. It was a nightmare then, but I’m living it now. I couldn’t have stopped what happened that night. Tonight, though, after everything we’ve been through, my mind screams one truth.

The love of my life is dying… and it’s my fault.

That realization is what finally jars me out of my devastated daze.

“Goddammit, baby. Wake up.”

She’s bruised and battered, and I’m terrified I’ll hurt her worse if I touch her, but watching her die isn’t an option. Even though I know how to knock someone out better than I can revive them, long-forgotten first-aid lessons kick in and I feel for her heartbeat in her neck. My fingers tremble and I have to will myself to stay still so I can count, but if it’s beating, it’s too faint to tell.

“You’re not doing this to me, tine.”

I lift her chin like I’ve done so many times before to get her sky-blue eyes to focus on me. Only this time her eyelids are closed, and I’m doing it out of necessity to get her to breathe for me.

Sitting up on my knees, I tug the neckline of her dress to fit the heel of my hand between her breasts. I try not to think about how her straps have been loosened and what all she could’ve endured. Monroe is already a dead man, but I’ll need Lacey to help me decide how he goes, and that can’t happen until she’s been saved.

When I have enough space to start CPR, I press against her rhythmically so hard that I’m sure I’m going to crack her fragile body in half. I do several compressions before bending over her, holding her nose, and forcing air into her lungs.

Every push against her chest and every blow of breath feels more futile than the last. My own heartbeat races to the point of pain, and my skin heats with exertion. Sweat pours down my cheeks as I try to breathe life back into the woman who unknowingly saved mine. I shake my head to get the stinging salt out of my eyes until I finally realize it’s not sweat. The droplets are hot tears falling like the rain outside.

After what feels like an eternity, my muscles begin to shake from despair, adrenaline, and effort. I slow down and take deep breaths to calm myself so I can feel for her heartbeat on her uninjured wrist.

When I hold her hand, a flash of silver falls from her palm and clinks onto the marble. I pick the coin up from the ground, but I don’t need to examine it. I know it better than I know myself.

It’s my AA chip. And Lacey held on to it until her final breath.

A low, mournful moan rumbles from my chest as I gently scoop my wife up to hold her. Thunder rolls and lightning flashes outside. Rain is a fecking miracle in this drought, but I’m begging for one of my own. One more breath from the woman I love.

All I get is her faint floral scent as her limp body rolls into my chest.

I knew how I felt about her months ago, but I fought it. I should’ve told her weeks ago, but I was afraid to scare her off. Yesterday I hinted at it to see how she’d react. And hours ago, I finally confessed that I love her without hedging my bets. Was it too late?

I’ve forgotten all the things she said when she tried to end it with me, but I don’t care. They were lies anyway, and I only want to remember the truth. I love Lacey O’Shea and I know she loves me.

…loves.

Loved…

My heart cracks as thoughts run wild in my head and guilt pounds inside my chest.

I did this to her. If I hadn’t been so goddamn selfish. If I’d only left her alone. If I hadn’t tricked her into marrying me. If I’d refused to let her stay here. If I’d never asked her to dance in the first place…

My eyes burn and I hold her hand to my thumping chest like I did just yesterday. I rock her gently back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

There’s movement behind me and I barely register that strangers are talking around me like I’m a feral animal that needs to be calmed. Somewhere in my mind I know I make it worse when a tap on my back makes me snarl over my shoulder at them.

It isn’t until someone speaks directly to me that I begin to fully understand what’s going on.

“Sir… you have to let her go.”

“No.”

The female paramedic jolts away from me at my growl, but she scowls and orders her team to keep moving around me.

Merek appears from behind her and kneels next to me, his brow furrowed with worry.

“Key, man, you have to let them near her.”

“They’ll take her away. She’s… she’s not breathing and if they take her—”

—what if she doesn’t come back?

“I explained what I saw on the camera and they think they can help. But look at yourself.” He points to the window and I reluctantly lift my gaze from Lacey’s wet, spiky lashes to see myself in the glass. “They’re afraid to take her from you, but they want to help her live.”

Water has slashed across the glass. The tint combined with the storm has dimmed the Vegas lights, putting my reflection in stark relief. My eyes are wild with rage and sorrow as I huddle over Lacey in my arms. I’m cradling her head against my chest, careful not to touch wherever the blood is spilling from and my breaths rise and fall in quick movements, full of strain, fear, and life. Lacey’s doesn’t move.

“Let her go, Kian. If you let her go, she’ll come back to you.”

I nod slowly as I mull over his words. He says something to an EMT, and when they reach again, I gently pass her off to two female paramedics. Once she’s lifted from me, my arms feel light without her weight, but the air in my chest is too heavy to breathe. It takes every ounce of my willpower to stop myself from snatching her to me again, but I let Merek pull me back to get out of the way.

“She’s not breathing,” I murmur out loud again.

“We know, sir,” the paramedic answers with way more patience than I have right now.

“Let them do their job,” Merek orders me.

I nod again, in a daze, as I watch them work furiously over her. They do chest compressions and CPR while checking her vitals. All emotion drains from my body, preparing for the worst. Mercenary logic fills the void and I welcome the cold that ices my veins. I barely recognize the harsh edge in my voice when I finally speak.

“Merek? Find Monroe Baron. Once you do, don’t let him out of your sight. Do you understand? I’ve got a wild card I’ve been dying to use.”

“Absolutely. He won’t leave Vegas.”

“I don’t think he intends to. He left the door open for me to find her. He taunted me, but the bastard has always overplayed his hand. This was an act of war between families. The piece of shite knows that, but he thinks he’s invincible and I’m nothing.”

Something shiny catches my attention in the corner of my eye and I glance over to find Lacey’s mobile on the ground. The screen is completely shattered.

Is that what did Monroe in? Did they watch the wedding video together? Was that the final straw that made him angry enough to kill her?

Mistake after mistake. Repeatedly I’ve fecked everything up a thousand times over. My dad might’ve orchestrated us getting together, but I… I ruined her after all.

“Fuck!” I yell and go to carve my hands through my hair. The one still holding my AA chip stops me, and I fist it in my palm.

I bring the coin to my face and steeple my fingers around it, partly to beg God to bring my wife back to me and partly because I’m unable to watch them abuse her body to do it. Hot tears blur my vision as they stream down my cheeks. I let the emotion flow from me as I pray to God harder than I ever have and I quietly beg Lacey to listen.

“Come back to me, Lace. Please. Come back to me, mo thine.”

As I rock in place, giving Merek the reins in finding Monroe and letting the paramedics fight for Lacey’s life, I pray, and I pray and I pray… until finally… I hear the most beautiful words…

“We have a pulse!”