20. Ayla

Chapter 20

Ayla

T he afternoon went by smoothly, but my mind was elsewhere. All I could think about was Declan and what he was doing. Had he found Vincent Deluca yet? Had he killed him? Or, God forbid, was it vice versa? I didn’t even want to think about the last option.

I was glad the day was over and I didn’t have to pretend anymore. Smiling and pretending everything was perfect was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, especially when I was plagued with worry.

Once everyone was out of the office, I locked up and headed home. There were no missed calls or texts from Declan which made my stomach knot up even more. When I arrived home, I pressed the button on my garage door opener and pulled my car inside.

The second I stepped inside my kitchen, my phone rang. Declan’s name appeared on the screen and it was as if all the weight of the day had vanished. If he was calling, it meant he was okay.

“Hey,” I answered breathlessly, rubbing the spot over my racing heart.

“Hey,” he replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. We’ve been busy getting everything prepared.”

I sat down at the kitchen table. “Are you good?”

“Yes.”

Hearing that didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy. The hardest part had yet to come.

“Everything is in order,” he assured me. “I have Ian here with me. He’s a member of the Circle of Justice and a friend. We’re making our move tonight.”

I was ready for it to be over.

“Just be safe,” I said, releasing a worried sigh. “Linda asked me to come over for dinner so I’ll be over there tonight.”

“Have fun and tell her I said hello.”

“I will.”

“I love you, Ayla.”

My eyes started to burn. “I love you, too. ”

We hung up, and I lay my head on the table, trying my best to hold back the tears. But then, a crashing sound in my garage made me gasp. My head jerked up, and I stared at the door. I could see through the kitchen door window that I’d left the garage open. There was only one culprit it could’ve been.

“Garfield, that better not be you out there making a mess!” I shouted.

Garfield was the neighborhood stray cat who looked exactly like the cartoon character with his orangish-yellow fur. Everyone gave him food, so we all considered ourselves his owners. Recently, he’d been staying closer to Linda’s house, probably because she fed him the most.

I walked into the garage and saw that the broom and mop I had resting against the wall had fallen over.

“Garfield,” I called out. I grabbed the container of kitty treats off one of the shelves and opened the lid, shaking them so he’d hear them rattling about. “If you want a treat you have to come to me.”

Usually, Garfield would come the second he’d hear the rustling treats. When he didn’t show up, I picked up the broom and mop, setting them back in their designated spots .

“All right, buddy, you’re missing out,” I shouted, looking around to see if I could see the mischievous cat anywhere. I gave him a few more seconds and then closed the kitty treat container.

I walked back to my kitchen door, and before I could step inside, I was grabbed from behind with a chloroform-soaked cloth covering my nose. The arms that held me were so tight I could barely breathe. As the chloroform fumes invaded my senses, my struggles weakened and I felt myself slipping away into a void of the unknown.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon.”

The words sounded so far away in my ears, but I recognized the voice. However, my mind couldn’t work fast enough to put it all together before the world turned dark.