38. Jasmine

Chapter thirty-eight

Jasmine

S haking from the effort, my arms screaming in protest, I try desperately to climb back up the chute, but there is nothing to grip. Time and again, I lift my body up, locking my knees and elbows against the side, but each time I try to move or even breathe, I slip back down. My body aches but I will not give up, pushing harder, knowing each second brings Alex closer to danger. If he thinks he wouldn't fit in here, he's wrong. We can work something out, even if he has to stand on my shoulders.

The thump of Alex's bedroom door opening echoes through the chute, sending a chill down my spine and I freeze. My hand immediately flies to my mouth as if the sound of my own heaving chest could give me away. All I do is pray that Alex knows of another place to hide, maybe in another bedroom's laundry chute or somewhere safer than a cramped tube.

The sounds of the men moving around in the bedroom are so clear I'm surprised they can't hear my pounding heart. They are so loud as they search Alex's sanctuary. The one place in the world where a young boy should feel safe is his bedroom. It's the place where the monsters can't get him, not the real ones anyway.

"There you are." Desmond's booming voice cuts through the air, turning my blood cold. It's quickly followed by a high-pitched squeal that could only be from a child. "Thought you could hide from me, did you?"

"I don't know who you are-" Alex's brave words are reduced to the sickening sound of him being violently shaken.

"Please stop." Alex's words are reduced to a terrifying plea.

A surge of protectiveness washes over me as I hear the boy's cries echoing through the narrow space. I want these men to find me, and I don't care what they plan to do, as long as they leave the boy alone. Climbing is futile, and banging doesn't produce the sound I expect as my fist hits the metal. A soundproof emergency exit built into every bedroom is perfect for a paranoid single father sitting near the top of the mafia. The fact that Alex mentioned it as a well-practised slide shows that the idea has been passed down through generations. Zane's reprimand now seems less disapproving of its use, and more about its mention.

"Under the bed, kid? Really?" Desmond scoffs, relishing the boy's suffering.

The thought of him enjoying himself makes my blood run cold. "Did you think that pathetic attempt at hiding would keep you safe?"

Alex's reply is a muffled protest that tugs at my resolve. I picture him there, small and defiant, held by one of Desmond's men.

"Tell me where she is," Desmond demanded, each syllable weighted with an ominous patience.

"Who?" The words were barely out before they were undercut by a sharp yelp, a sound that pierced the stagnant air tightening around my chest like a vice.

"Try again," Desmond ordered. It wasn't a request. It was a command, probably accompanied by a physical threat of violence.

"Who do you mean? If I know who you are looking for—" Alex's words break into a cry of pain.

"Jasmine. The woman who was here looking after you." Desmond laughs, his footsteps shuffling closer to where I am hiding. "Don't try to tell me you're here alone."

"My dad didn't have much choice," Alex explains, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "There was an emergency."

"Just tell me where the fuck she is." Desmond's tone turns menacing.

"No."

"Come on now, we can do this all day," Desmond chuckles, his fake charm crumbling to reveal a simmering impatience. "Where is she?

"I don't know."

"Why would you protect her?" Desmond sneered. "She's not worth getting hurt for."

"Because that's what family does," Alex said, the fear replaced with a firm conviction. "They protect each other, even if it hurts. She's my family, and I won't give her up."

A swell of pride surges within me, mingling with an acute dread. Alex, with his child's understanding of loyalty, has drawn an invisible line in the sand, and I understand him. He is the man of the house, his father's son, and he won't give me up. I see a different situation of the boy above me, one where he stands determined as my little knight. One who didn't hide under the bed because he thought he would be safe, but because he would be found. Finding Alex has stopped Desmond from looking at me. He's stalling Desmond, giving me more time to stay hidden until backup arrives. Back-up is coming, triggered by the silent alarm at the broken window they came through.

"Trust me, kid, you will tell me in the end."

"Or what?" Alex snaps, his voice a pitch higher than the one I know. "I am the son of the mafia. I am the grandson of the mafia. If you hurt me, you hurt the Thayer Cartel. And they don't like being hurt."

"You fucking little-"

"Shit, someone's coming." Another voice cuts in over Desmond's.

"Told you," Alex teases.

"Bring him with us," Desmond orders. "We can beat the living shit out of him later."

"Yes? And give them a reason to follow you?" another voice counters.

"Yeah, I'm not doing that," the third voice agrees.

The sound of men running from the room lifts my heart. My eyes close as I will the arsehole above me to release Alex and run.

He does, but not before a god-awful crash followed by a dull thud.

Then there is nothing.

I strain to hear anything through the silence. Desmond's departure is met with the terror of Alex's fate.

Desperate to do something, I try climbing again and then moving the duvet below me. With limited arm movement in the tube and very little scope to bend, I gradually manage to lift the bedding up and pull it above my head. Even still, I can't find the exit at the bottom of the tube.

I'm trapped and Alex needs me. He may call me grandma or aunt, but I call myself useless.