Chapter 164

#Chapter 164 – War Room “What is it?” Victor asks, a little breathless, suddenly horribly worried. Had something happened, someone gotten hurt?

“Mommy’s really mad at us,” Alvin says, his lower lip starting to tremble.

“What?” Victor says, confused. “Who? About what?”

“At me and Ian, for telling you where they went,” Alvin says, clearly feeling guilty. “He said she said that they ran for a reason, and that meant they didn’t want to be found. And that Ian had broken her trust by going behind her back to tell you.”

Alvin slumps down in the chair, clearly feeling very bad. “We didn’t mean to break her trust,” he murmurs. “We were just trying to help. And we miss each other.”

Victor’s heart goes out to his son and he puts a hand on his shoulder. “Aw, kid,” Victor says. “Don’t feel so bad. You didn’t know how she’d feel about it, and you talk to your brother every day like this, right?

So, it was just natural for you.”

Alvin nods, but Victor can tell that he doesn’t really feel better yet. Still, he needs more information.

“Did Ian tell you where they are now?”

“No,” Alvin says, shaking his head. “He says he wasn’t going to tell me for two reasons. One, because he didn’t want to betray mom. And two, he didn’t know, because they weren’t telling him things now. He just knows that they drove a long time, and they’re on a highway. But that’s all he knows.”

Alvin shrugs, looking up at his dad.

Victor grits his teeth, looking out the windshield and working hard to control his frustration. He doesn’t want Alvin to feel any worse. Then, thinking over Alvin’s words, he turns back to him. “Wait,” he says, “who is ‘they.’ Are they still with Delia?”

Alvin nods. “And aunt Emma. She’s there too.”

Emma?! Victor is shocked by this. How the hell did she get involved?

“I’m sorry, papa,” Alvin says, looking down at his hands. “We came all this way for nothing.”

“No, kid,” Victor says, putting a finger under Alvin’s chin so he looks up at him. “You did great. You really tried to help me. Mommy’s just running a little scared right now – and that’s my fault.”

Victor says this last bit ruefully, frustrated with himself for his rash words yesterday. “She probably thinks I’m chasing after her to punish her, or take Ian away.”

“Well I told Ian that,” Alvin says, equally frustrated. “He tried to tell her, but she didn’t believe him –“

“Well,” Victor says, shrugging. “Then there’s nothing else we can do. We tried, and we’ll try again. But now, we have to go home and regroup. We’ll try to find her some other way if Ian can’t tell you where they are.”

Alvin nods, still clearly disappointed. Victor sighs, starting the car and turning his attention to the road.

This pursuit of Evelyn had consumed his mind completely, but his other responsibilities come flooding back to him now.

He still has a burned house he has to address, an ex who has promised to destroy his house on the loose. Not to mention the constant threat that Walsh and Willard pose to his pack.

Victor sighs, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road. So much to do and no real plan for how to address it all. It’s time to get to work.

“What do you think, Alvin,” Victor asks. “Should we get a couple of crab legs for the road? A little seafood feast?”

“No, can we have cheeseburgers instead?” Alvin asks, wrinkling his nose a little. “I don’t like the way crabs smell.”

As they drive along the highway, Evelyn is still livid with Ian. She can’t help it. She does her best to bury her anger deep inside her, but it’s hard. She’s already scolded him – yelled, really – and made her thoughts on the matter clear, but a big part of her wants to yell some more.

Still, she knows she can’t take it out on him. He already apologized and knows he did wrong.

He had a point, of course, when he noted that she never expressly forbade him from mind-linking with his twin. So, that one’s on me, Evelyn thinks, rolling her eyes.

It had been a frantic flee from the beach town, with everyone packing hastily and piling into the cars, heading out as fast as they could. They probably had a four-hour lead on Victor, Evelyn knew, but still.

She had felt better when she had complete control and was sure that Victor had no idea where she was.

She could have taken days, then, sitting on the beach, figuring out their next steps. Now, they were forced to run without knowing where they were going. And Victor could very well be on their tail.

Evelyn also didn’t know what to do with Ian’s other piece of information. That Alvin had reported that Victor came in peace, an apology on his lips, wanting to make amends – not just to retrieve his stolen son or something equally bad.

Evelyn bites her lip, thinking about it, wondering if it could be true. But, as incredibly smart and complicated as Alvin and Ian are, they’re still sweet, trusting six-year-olds. There’s no reason that Alvin should mistrust his father if he told him to tell Ian that he wanted to make amends.

It could very easily be a lie designed to keep Evelyn in one place long enough to find her. And then, the control would be out of her hands again. That, she knew, she didn’t want.

A little part of Evelyn pushes back against that idea, knowing that Victor has never not been a man of his word. If he says he comes in peace, then he probably means it.

But she shuts her mind to that idea, still feeling very much the animal of prey today, wanting to run, to maintain control, to make her own decisions, build her own life. And now she had Delia and Emma as part of her team as well – she couldn’t just abandon them, when Emma had put her faith into her like this. Evelyn had said they would run together, and so run they would.

They pulled over, a few hours later, at a roadside motel that looked a little nicer than some of the other ones they had passed a few miles back.

“Will this do?” Delia asks as they all climb out of the two cars.

“Sure,” Evelyn says, shrugging, thinking about the pile of cash sitting in her trunk. This place seemed to strike the right balance – anonymous enough to take the cash and not ask questions, but nice enough that their car wouldn’t get boosted in the night. Probably.

Ian, holding her hand, reads the sign carefully and then looks up at her. “Free breakfast in the morning.

I think it’s good.”

Evelyn gives him a smile and his hand a squeeze, taking him in with her to book the room. Half an hour later, they’ve all changed into their pajamas and are seated on the double beds of the simple but clean motel room, eating whatever they could get from the vending machines outside.

“The pound cake isn’t half bad,” Delia says, eyebrows raised, as she takes a sip of her grape soda.

“I like the bugles,” Ian adds, working hard to balance a pointy chip on each finger like long witchy nails.

Emma says nothing, slowly chewing her pistachios, staring at the blank television screen.

“Emma?” Evelyn says, hesitant. “Are you alright?”

Her sister looks at her then, considering. Then she swallows and sits up straight. “I changed my mind,”

she says. Evelyn gasps and Ian turns to look at her.

“What?” Delia says, her eyes wide. “Emma, no – this is good – this is the right choice – “

Emma holds up a hand to Delia, a quiet plea for silence. Delia slowly closes her mouth.

“What I mean to say,” Emma says quietly, looking between them all. “Is that I’d rather make a change of plans.”

Evelyn sits back against the pillows, curious. What can she mean? But Evelyn doesn’t say anything, letting her sister talk.

“I’ve thought a lot about it, on the drive out here, and just now,” Emma says, her eyes unfocused as she nods and continues to think. “And I think – no, what I know – is that what I want is not to…disappear. I lived my whole life in service to that man. Doing his bidding, trying so hard to please him, to anticipate his needs.”

She focuses her eyes now, looking between Delia and Evelyn. “None of that got me anything but grief.

And then, I tried, and failed, to carry his children. I took the brunt of his rage at my failure in silence, feeling like it was my fault.”

A knot ties itself in Evelyn’s throat, but she doesn’t say a word. Emma continues.

“I have lived my life as a trapped creature,” Emma says. “And what I want now – now that I’m free of that cage – is not to run.” She falls silent, shaking her head for a minute, looking down. But Evelyn quietly notices that her fingers are tipped with claws, gripping the bedsheets as she looks up again, fire in her eyes.

“What I want,” Emma says, her voice lethally calm. “Is revenge.”

A beat passes, and then a slow, dark smile forms on Evelyn’s mouth.

“Well then,” Evelyn says. “Revenge you shall have.”