Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Autumn

Keep it together. Keep calm. It's nothing that can't be fixed.

These words I keep repeating to myself one after the other after Striker led me into my café. It's a complete and utter disaster. The tables are broken. The glass cases shattered. The coffee machine is demolished. Even the counters were messed up and will have to be replaced. The whole café was going to have to be remodeled.

Staring at it all has my heart nearly leaping out of my chest.

After we got here, Striker took me directly to my office to see if anything was missing. There wasn't, but papers were everywhere. He left me in there to sort through the mess while he went out to talk with his brothers.

That was well over an hour ago. I did take the time to message all of my employees and my parents that they didn't need to come to the café today, that we were closed. I didn't tell them what had happened, it wasn't their problem.

I make my way back out into the main area and keep chanting the same words over and over doing my best not to have a panic attack. The best thing I could do is get to work and make things right.

Grabbing a broom, I start sweeping the glass, ignoring Striker and the others. This is my place. My mess. I need to be the one to clean it up. To fix it.

"Mama, let us get this all cleaned up," Striker says, coming up beside me with his arm curling around my shoulders. "I don't want you to get hurt.

"I'm fine, Striker," I mutter, not looking up. I keep my focus on the glass I'm sweeping along the floor, trying to block out the sound of it as I do so. "I've got this. You don't have to stick around while I clean up."

"Autumn, don't even start going down that damn rabbit hole," Striker grumbles and takes the broom out of my hands. He spins me so that I'm facing him. "I'm not about to let you do that shit. The bullshit surrounding you isn't about to swallow you whole. I'm helping you, so is everyone else here. You ain't alone. You need to get that. We're gonna fix shit up here the best we can for now. I'm gonna get a dumpster here soon as I can, and we're gonna get this place back to the way it needs to be. Once we get the window fixed, I'll take you by the apartment."

I'd forgotten about my apartment in dealing with this. As much as I want to let it freak me out about someone being in my personal space that's how I should feel regarding my apartment. In truth, I feel more violated here at the café. The apartment was just a place to sleep, not a home. The closest thing I've felt to a home is this place.

"I'm fine," I snap. "I don't care about the apartment right now. I just want to get this stuff cleaned up. The sooner, the better. I don't have time to waste around doing nothing. If I want to get this place back up and running, I need to get everything straightened out."

Striker stares at me a beat and nods. "All right, Mama. You get to it. Do what you need. We'll handle some of the other shit and get what we can done today. We'll go to the apartment later, and you can take a look then, okay?"

I nod my answer and lay my head against his chest, grateful he understands. I don't have the mental capacity to explain to him otherwise.

Around noon, Striker and the other guys leave. But they didn't leave me alone. They left me with Athena, Chris, and my parents. Tiffany had come by but left when she got a call from the school, one of her kids was sick. Striker also had ordered a prospect to stick around.

I didn't pay any of them any mind. Though it might be said I tried to mostly ignore or I should say avoid them all because upon my parents' arrival at the café, my mom declared her and my dad were moving to the area. They would be around to help me with the café. She claimed it was so that maybe, just maybe, I'd make a life for myself and eventually give her grandchildren. This freaked me out to the point I couldn't talk or be in the same room with her until I could come to terms with what she announced to the whole room, including Striker, who was getting ready to leave with his brothers.

I couldn't even look at him right after she said this. That didn't mean he didn't make me look at him, nor did it stop him from telling me that he'd be back, and we'd discuss the fact my mother and father had decided to move to the area.

I still don't know if it's a good idea or not. Yes, I miss them when they're gone, but they're talking about uprooting from lives they've had all my life to come here.

My phone chimes in my back pocket, alerting me to a text as I finish cleaning up a pile of papers off the floor in my office. Working in here was my way of escaping my mom and her thoughts ‘ideas' on what we should do with the renovations of my café for reopening. I can't handle it right now and didn't want to hurt her feelings by snapping on her.

Setting the papers on the table, I snag my phone and without checking to see who the text is from, I open it. My heart seizes in my chest. The blood in my veins freezes as a cold chill washes over me.

"No," I whisper aloud as I stare at the screen and the picture on it. Below is the message from a number I don't know.

Unknown: If you don't want to see anything else happen to her, then you'll trade yourself in her place. You tell anyone before, and we'll kill her and still take you.

My eyes go back to the picture, fear lodging itself in my throat at what I'm seeing. She should have been safe at school, but instead, I'm staring at a picture of Lila tied up to a chair, blood dripping from a cut on her cheek and another on her forehead. Her clothes look ripped open. The only bright side is she hasn't been raped. Doesn't mean they haven't done something else to her. If they'd done more so they wouldn't have left her as they have in the picture.

Still.

I can't know for sure.

There are a lot of ways to violate someone without removing clothes.I know this well from when I'd been kidnapped.

So much can happen. Not just to the body but to the mind. She doesn't deserve what's happening right now and the fact they took her like they did.

God what must be going through Lila's mind.

Bile burns in my throat at the different scenarios that flash in my head at what she's going through right now.

Without thinking, I text the person back.

Me: I'll do it. What do you need me to do?

Not even a moment later, my phone chimes again.

Unknown: Go out the back door. There will be a car parked not too far away. The driver will open the truck. You climb in.

I suck in a breath, glance around the room, and send another text.

Me: Fine, but you promise to let her go?

Rather than a text, the phone rings showing the unknown number calling. Swiping my finger along the screen, I answer and lift it to my ear.

"You don't tell anyone you're leaving. Trade yourself, and you have a deal. No harm will come to her," a husky male voice states.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" I ask.

"Guess you'll just have to trust me," he says and hangs up.

Swallowing down my nerves, I do my best not to throw up and take a deep breath. I'm sure I should leave behind a note or something, but there's no time to waste. I know what it's like to lose a sibling, I won't see Striker go through what I have. Nor Lila, for that matter. They need each other. I see it whenever they're in the same room. If they lost each other, either one of them would be in the same position as I was when I lost Avery. I can't let that happen to them.

Setting the phone down, I take the time to scribble ‘I'm sorry.' on a sheet of paper. Leaving it with my phone, I make my way to the back door. I can hear the others in the front, laughing and joking while cleaning up. Good. Them being distracted means they won't notice I'm gone right away.

At the back door, I look back for a split second and push open the door just enough to slip through. I blink against the glaring sun and glance both ways before heading in the direction I was told to go. I spot the car and walk quickly toward it. Once I'm close enough, the truck opens, and the passenger gets out. He doesn't speak, he just stands there and lets me pass. I do as I'm told, and the man who'd stepped out of the car closes the lid on me.

This might have been a bad idea. Who knows. But it's too late now. My hands are in the fate of whatever is about to happen next. Whatever that might be.