39. Zane

Chapter thirty-nine

Zane

I focus on the road ahead and getting home to check on Jasmine and Alex. Hearing about their amusing games over a cup of coffee sounds like a welcome break in the case. I will need to do more for Ronan, but that can wait. Otherwise, there is nothing to do until someone catches sight of Desmond.

My phone starts ringing from where I carelessly tossed it on the passenger seat.

"Speakerphone," I call to the car, hoping the Bluetooth is on so the car can connect.

"Hello?" I greet as the call picks up. I need this to be good news about Desmond, but I really want to get home before having to go out and beat his arse.

"Hey, Mr Whitehall, it's Gregory Vane. I run the security system linked to your alarm."

"Fuck." This is a Thayer-owned company, and when my alarms go off, they turn up with guns.

"We had an alarm sound and a team was dispatched. We're at the property now."

"I'm on my way."

"Can you run us through who was home?"

"Jasmine and Alex. My girlfriend and grandson." My hands grip the steering wheel tighter. Both Jasmine and Alex should be able to give him that information, so the fact he's asking me is worrying.

"We've had a response team scour the premises, sir. No intruders on-site now, but I'm afraid to say there is clear evidence."

"Is my grandson alright?"

"He's alive, but we're getting him medical treatment."

"And Jasmine?"

"There is no sign of anyone else. I'm sorry."

"Understood," I reply, foot pressing harder against the accelerator. The engine's growl matches the frantic beat of my heart.

With no care for road safety laws, I grab the phone and dial Marcus' number. While I'm devastated to hear Alex needs a doctor, he needs his dad, too.

"Dad, hey, what a shit show." Marcus greets me with a sigh. "We got Knox's boy back, but things didn't go exactly to plan-"

"Alex is hurt." I blurt out my words over his own.

"Shit. What?"

"I don't know any more. The alarm sounded. Security is with him now, and I'm on my way there. Can you get away?"

"You can damn well count on it." Marcus hangs up, and I know he will chew Edward's ear until he can get away. Edward respects family above everything else.

When I arrive at my home, I am prevented from getting my car anywhere near the door by all the other cars and vans littering the driveway. I abandon my car and run up to the house. The door has been smashed off its hinges by the church key resting against the wall beside it.

"Mr Whitehall, Gregory Vane." A man hurries over, his hand extended to shake mine. "Don't worry about the door, we'll sort all of that. Follow me."

"Medical team?" The words come out terse and demanding.

"En route," he replies, nodding with conviction.

I don't wait for another word, my legs carrying me with speed born of desperation down the familiar hallway, each step taking me closer to a sight I'm not sure I can face.

Alex's door is open, and I round the corner into his room. Three security officers are instantly in my way, kneeling over a tiny body. My grandson lies on the floor like a puppet whose strings were cut. His eyes are closed, his face pale below a myriad of bruises.

"He's unresponsive but alive and stable," one of the security officers reports.

My fingers tremble as I reach for his hand, my eyes fixing on his chest's fragile rise and fall, so feeble compared to the life he usually exudes. Even when I check in on him at night, there is more life than this.

"Hang in there, champ," I whispered. Everything's going to be okay." I stroked his hair back from a swelling forming in his hairline.

"Where is Jasmine?" I call to anyone listening, only to be met by shaking heads.

"Sir, we've checked everywhere," one of them finally speaks, a young man with a furrowed brow that spoke of concern beyond his years. "She's not in the house."

"We're waiting on the sniffer dog. He should be able to track her," Gregory adds.

I know she wouldn't have left my grandson alone to take a beating like this, so my heart can only fear the worst for her safety.

"Check again!" The command burst from me, fierce and raw. Jasmine couldn't just vanish. She wouldn't leave Alex; she adored him too much.

"Every corner, every closet," I insist, rising up to follow my own advice. "She has to be here."

"We'll check again if you stay here with the boy." Gregory nods to his men, who exit the room to humour me in my time of need. I turn my attention back to Alex and wait for the medically trained people. Michael isn't our only medic on the payroll. We have several nurses and even a dentist. But heaven only knows the real-life roles of those who have answered my call for help.

I'm left alone with my grandson, who in my years of joint childcare, is as close to me as my sons ever were. I did this to him by bringing Jasmine here. I put him in danger when I went out to save Ronan. This is all my fault.

My hands tremble as I press them against Alex's small chest, feeling the fragile rise and fall beneath his favourite dinosaur T-shirt.

"Help is coming, buddy," I whispered, my voice shaky from the chaos that had torn through our lives. "Just hold on for me."

I can do nothing but wait, one hand clasping his cold fingers, the other stroking his dark hair, matted with sweat and blood. The bruises on his face are a stark reminder of the terror he faced alone. The men who vowed to protect him weren't here when he needed us the most. What has he been through? What has happened here in the sanctity of his room, where monsters are supposed to be just storybook tales? I reach up to his bed, tugging on the cowboy covers scrunched up on the mattress, and pull them across him. He shouldn't feel this cold to the touch.

"Alex, you're so brave," I murmured, leaning close, my breath mingling with his in the stillness. "I'm here now. You're not alone."

Red and blue lights splashed through the curtains, painting the room in urgent hues as the sound of the sirens reached a crescendo. Feet pounded up the porch steps, a flurry of movement and voices as the door swung wide open once again, admitting the medical staff.

"Over here!" I called out, not daring to lift my gaze from Alex's face.

They sweep into the room, efficient and focused, a dance of medical expertise that takes over without a word needing to be spoken. I feel the slight shift in the tension as they begin their work, checking vitals and preparing equipment, but my grip on Alex never wavered.

"Grampy's right here," I assure him, though his eyes remain closed. "You just fight, little man. We're all fighting for you."

As the emergency team commences their work of care and determination, I cling to my lifeless grandson, his loose hand comforting me as much as I hope I am comforting him.