Chapter 7 The Illusion Of Choice

I stand at the window, my arms crossed tightly, as if holding myself together, while my gaze drifts across the vast, open fields that stretch for acres around the estate. I’ve been counting down the minutes until Levi’s time is up, and without having heard from Marcel since the last time he was here—almost a week ago—I’m left to assume that Levi, with only a few hours left until his deadline, will probably show up short-handed—just as Marcel insinuated. I kept hoping that Levi would come to my rescue, the way that he somehow always did when we were growing up—with and without parents. But he never did. Each minute of silence chips away at the little hope that I have left in me, and as guilty as it makes me feel, I mentally prepare myself for the moment that Marcel decides to walk in here to give me the inevitable news. It’s not that I don’t have faith in Levi. It’s that I know my brother, and if he did have the money to buy my freedom back, he would’ve done it the very day I was taken from the hospital. Still, there’s a part of me, despite knowing what lies in my inevitable involvement with Marcel and the Saldívar Mafia, that refuses to give Marcel’s request any more thought. I won’t. Not until Levi actually shows up empty-handed. Then, and only then, will I try to figure out how to get myself out of this mess or choose to take the easier way out: play by his hand. Playing by his hand is not the easy way out. … But it might be my only choice. I exhale sharply, furrowing my eyebrows as I turn my head to the side, my sight falling to my shoulder. A faint throbbing pulsates across my chest, the gunshot wound being the source of my discomfort. Between cleaning and rebandaging it, I’ve tried moving it as often and as much as I can these past few days in hopes that I won’t permanently lose some mobility in my arm. “He’s ready for you.” Startled, I nearly jump out of my skin at the deep voice that suddenly resonates through the bedroom. Good God. I snap my head to the side, turning to look at the familiar dark-skinned man—the Thing 2 that helped Thing 1 destroy my apartment. Know how to fucking knock, Frank? … Is this one Frank? Or is it Rick? In the brief moment that my mind wanders to superficial questions, it strips me of the confidence I thought I’d engraved in myself about this moment. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, and with evident reluctance, I swallow my cowardice and begin my movements out of the bedroom. Past the oversized black man, I wait patiently as he shuts the door and leads me down the hall. My gaze flickers from the white patterned marble floor to the beige walls. With chandeliers and large windows at every few feet, the hall is illuminated without a shadow of darkness. I hold my arms in front of me, hugging myself as we approach the double staircase that leads down to the main entrance hall. From the dark brown rails that trails down stairs, my eyes follow them in awe at the luxurious home. After looking through my bedroom and observing my view of the estate from the window, I didn’t think that I could be any more surprised by Marcel’s fortune. Yet I am again reminded of how ignorant I may be to just how fortunate he is. So why not pay someone who actually knows what they’re doing..? The more I try to make sense of it, the less it does. I feel my heart at my throat as we reach the bottom of the staircase, and I subconsciously slow down on my feet. With less than a foot between us, my escort reaches to take my arm under his grasp, pulling me to hurry along beside him. I wince in pain, my hands balling into fists as I’m left without the option of resistance. The suppressed whimper lingering in the back of my throat fades to a shaky breath as we emerge into the open-door parlor and my eyes snap up, instantly locking with Levi’s gaze. I don’t wait for the release of my arm, snapping out of his hold as I move to wrap my arms around Levi. “Are you okay?” Levi’s voice is laced with caution, his embrace a mix of warmth and desperation as if he’s clinging to a lifeline. His arms mindfully wrapped around my shoulders, he pulls me into him. The familiar smell of his scent eases my anxiety as I bury my face into his chest. My response is almost muffled as I nod my head and loosen my hold from him. “I’m okay,” I assure him, taking a step back to look up at him. The dark circles around his reddened eyes is all that I need to see to know that he hasn’t slept much in days. The paleness in his skin nearly reflects that of my own after I’d woken up from surgery, although in my case, it was as a result of blood loss. In his, I’m left to assume that it’s because he hasn’t eaten much either. Oh, Levi… It’s like we’re teenagers all over again. Before he very evidently switched careers, he was working three minimum wage jobs. He was killing himself trying to make ends-meet and it fell on me to remind him to eat and sleep. Things got easier after he finally caved to Guillermo’s offer to work for him. If there’s anything I have to thank that man for, it’s the fact that despite how wrong I know that all of this is and how dangerous it may be, he makes sure that his people are taken care of. Unless you’re a client without the means to pay back your debt or an employee who’s made a terrible choice, you’re in good hands. Everything seems great when you first sell your soul to the devil. “Rick.” Marcel’s voice resonates across the room, my head snapping to the side to find him sitting in the elegant brown leather armchair a few feet away from us. With a half-full glass of what I only assume is Scotch in one hand, I watch him point at the black bag sitting on the thick glass coffee table across from where he sits, telling the man who escorted me here, “Make sure that’s counted.” My eyes follow Rick as he moves to take the bag from its position and walks across the room to the pool table under the hanging red lampshades. The warm colors of the room’s decor is a sharp contrast to the colors in my bedroom. From the dark brown and maroon wallpaper with golden swirls to the matching large carpet beneath Marcel’s feet, my gaze briefly flickers to the hardwood floors beneath the tall coffee table behind where he sits. Perfect to the setting, the glass decanter sitting on top of it ties the room together. “Unless you’ve somehow managed to fit six million dollars in that bag,” Marcel nods in the direction of the pool table as he speaks, his eyes locked with Levi’s, “I’m going to assume that you’re not here to pick up your sister.” The remorseful look on Levi’s face makes my stomach turn, and as he lowers his arms from me, moving his touch away from me, I can’t help but be angry at myself for feeling disappointed. He falters, and it’s as though I can see him physically shrinking as he swallows his pride to say, “I need more time.” His voice is low, his tone tinged with regret, “There’s half a million in that bag. I can get you another two million as soon as I sell my house. I just need time.” Sell his house..? I didn’t think I could feel any more guilt than I did at the mere thought of Levi giving up that kind of money—if he had it. Now, knowing that he’ll be left with nothing kills me more. Marcel’s hum draws my sight back to him, a string of chills shooting down the base of my spine as he nods in his superiority with that smirk of his plastered on his face. He brings the glass up to his lips, taking a short sip before bringing it back down to his lap. His eyes linger on me, and the silent look that he shoots at me speaks a million more words than I wish it did. He’s sacrificed so much for me already… I can’t let him do this. Marcel parts his lips to speak, but I don’t give him the opportunity to. “Hey…” I turn to look at Levi, taking his hand in mine as he lowers his gaze to meet my own. “It’s gonna be okay,” I try to reassure him, putting on the best show of my life as I lie, “I’m doing research for one of his legit businesses.” He furrows his eyebrows, and knowing that he won’t understand a word, I explain, “It’s regarding the practical aspect of mechanical systems and thermodynamics—which will look really good on my resume after I finish school.” I pause for a moment, and as I look at the thoughtful look on his face, I anxiously add, “I-It’s really more like an internship, when you think about it. Only without…you know…direct pay.” If there’s anything I can count on it’s that my brother has always had an uncanny sense for picking up on my bullshit. At the risk of sounding accusatory toward the man holding our lives for ransom against one another, he questions me instead, “Really? And why would he do that?” Shit. “Well…” my voice trails off as I look back at Marcel. A glint of satisfaction lingers in his eyes, and before I can pull another lie out of my ass, with a sly, calculated motion, he reaches into the lapel of his jacket and draws a small recording device. Levi’s voice emits from it, playing his words from the hospital, “I didn’t take his money, Mercy. I swear it on dad’s grave. I stayed away all that time to avoid getting you into trouble. I wouldn’t do that to you. … I think someone is trying to frame me.” He bugged the room. … Of course he did. “Because I don’t believe you’re a thief,” Marcel says as pauses the playback of the recording. He draws it back into his jacket, returning to his posture as his arm rests on the chair. He’s had that all along. He knew Levi didn’t do this. My blood boils in frustration as Marcel lifts from his seat and pounds his drink back. With this, he turns and moves to the coffee table positioned behind the armchair and he pours himself another glass. As he sets the decanter down, his back given to us, he says, “However, I have to make an example out of someone. So, here are your options,” he pauses for a moment, and this time, with the half-full glass in his hand, he turns to us. His eyes meet Levi’s, telling him, “You can either bring me the other nine and a half million that you owe in exchange for your sister’s freedom within the next month, or you can bring me the man who stole from me and I’ll let your sister go once she’s done with our little project.” He pauses once more, glancing at me as he furrows his eyebrows thoughtfully, “Which she agreed to finishing…within the next month?” There it is…there it fucking is. Beyond my rage, a part of me can’t help but be amazed at how well he articulated his plan. While the question about whether or not he knew before he shot me remains unclear, I chuckle in a mix of disbelief and amusement. He’s been playing us this whole fucking time. … How the hell am I supposed to learn how to and actually build a bomb in a month..? I know I’ve bitten off far more than I can chew, but I pretend as though I have it all under control as I turn to look at Levi. My chuckles turn into half-hearted ones, a forced smile lingering on my lips as I breathe out, “See? And it’s really not that bad here...” My lies deceive me as I think back to the bedroom I was given and the three meals a day I was delivered, because in truth, while it’s still a prison, things could be so much worse. Is this his mercy? I see the hesitation in Levi’s eyes and before he can so much as attempt to argue, I wrap my arms around him. On my toes, I murmur in his ear, “Everything is going to be okay. I promise.” With this, I release him from my hold, and I look up at him as I softly say, “You just worry about getting the asshole who did this. Okay?” He knows that even if he wanted to argue, this is the best and only chance we’re going to get at walking out of this. “500K, boss,” Rick suddenly says. I merely glance at him as he starts putting the money back in the bag, and when I turn back to Levi, he shoots Marcel a pair of looks before throwing his arm around me once more. He plants a kiss on the top of my head, his voice a soft murmur with a sincere promise, “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be back soon.” Without another word, he releases me from his hold and turns to look at Marcel once more before turning on his heels and heading out of the parlor with a purposeful look on his stern features. This is it. I’ve become the thing that I never thought I would: an accomplice to terrorism. I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath until I turn to face Marcel. A shaky breath parts my lips as he eyes me with gratification. I swallow hard, ignoring the hammering in my chest as I gather every ounce of faux assurance that I can muster. “I need a computer linked to your virtual private network, and someone who knows their way around the black market,” I assert, my voice steady despite my demise.