37 | Dark Chocolate

Please let this not be real.

Never mind that the performance didn't really happen. Just don't make this night come true. And I'll wake up with the girls and laugh at the crazy dream. Please let this be a joke. Please let Mony be safe. Little Mony . . .

Wait, who was I talking to?

And my silent pleas weren't working. I was still handcuffed in the car Mitch was driving. My phone was still on the dashboard. Help wasn't coming any sooner. The car stopped. We had arrived. And my eyes were drooping.

But I was jolted fully awake when Mitch got out of the car and pulled me out. I decided not to talk for a while. See where this was going. What she was exactly planning. What this place was exactly.

She dragged me into the back of a warehouse. It was dark out and empty. How clichéd. Warehouse, kidnapping for exchange, in a creepy night – I wondered whose idea what this all was. It was an ineffective way to commit a crime.

I opened my mouth again, "Really now, if you wanted to kidnap me, you should at least do it in style. You know – something that will make Moriarty proud."

"Quiet," she growled, leading us inside. Dim lights filled the warehouse. It was eerily silent in here. And the smell of sewage infiltrated the air. The floor felt slippery and wet.

I took deep breaths. They'll come sooner or later. Twenty minutes – I took count. That was how long the ride lasted. It shouldn't take them long. Come on, just get a move on.

While I was basked in my thoughts, Mitch pushed me hard and I tumbled onto the ground. I hissed when my arm bent and the handcuff pushed into my wrist. I felt something burn on my face and then blood trickled from my cheek.

"Seriously?" I whispered.

Mitch ignored me. "I got her," she said firmly to somebody else. She got me handcuffed on a pipe. I backed away slowly against a wall.

Murmurs. Sounds of struggling. Muffled. That's what I heard. Mony.

The place lighted up a bit. And then I saw everything, like the mainstream criminal scene. Harmony was tied and handcuffed to a chair, her mouth gagged. She cried and squirmed, looking at me. I scowled when I saw the bruises on her arms and the cuts on her face. A black eye standing out.

What the hell did they do to my baby sister?

My gaze raked over our captor, to my left, a few feet away. "Oh my God," I laughed sarcastically, "I should've known. Owen."

At the mention of his name, I saw the corner of his lips tug upwards. My rolled skyward. Plan, Ollie, you must have some kind of spontaneous plan. To keep them from hurting Mony any more.

"Thank you, Mitchell," he said softly.

"Are you really doing this right now?" I said incredulously, "Kidnapping us? For what in exchange? You know, you've got bad taste in your venue and the style couldn't be any sloppier – "

I cut myself off with a scream when Owen trudged towards me and kicked my stomach. Ouch, dude.

"Enough," he said.

I mocked some more, "Why, why are you doing this? What's your back-story? Do you have some boo-hoo said tale to share with us? Please do. I can't wait to hear it." Another kick on my stomach. I winced as he stepped his foot down on my legs.

I looked anywhere but on him. Mitch was there, standing by Harmony, a blank expression on her face. I glared at her, "You're a coward, you know that? You could've run away and told somebody, but no, you just had to join his side. Is this really who you are?"

"This is a new low for you, Mitchell. I would've expected it from Rita Scott, but not you. You're making a mistake and in the end, I'll be there telling you 'I told you so'," I continued.

She paid no attention to me, averting her gaze. Her grasp was tight on my phone.

"What is that?" Owen must've noticed my phone. "Her cell? Get rid of it."

Mitch looked up in surprise at the order. But nonetheless, she brought it up and dropped it down on the ground. It shattered completely, and for a good matter of seconds, she put her foot on it, crushing it. Damn it, Morgan, there were precious pictures in there.

But I was partially relieved she destroyed it. That way, they wouldn't be able to know I called the police.

Slap on my face from Owen. He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked up. I winced, biting my tongue to keep myself from screaming out loud. Deep breaths, Oliver.

Looking around the place, I saw that someone else had stepped from the dark and into my view. Someone who enraged me right away. Someone who I couldn't believe was here with them.

"So that's how you got Harmony," I glowered my best at Glenda, "You dare do that to Dad? He married you, you wench – what more could you want? How could you do that to your own stepdaughter –"

Cut off yet again by Owen. Another slap from him. I faced him once more, "It's rude to interrupt, you know? Now, if you're just going to vent your anger at me and beat me up, you might as well tell me what I'm here for. This is about my father, isn't it?"

Owen was silent.

I raised my eyebrows, "Come now, Owen. He's done things to lots of people – including me. You wouldn't be the first. And we all want revenge, don't we? And what was with those visits at the shop to talk to my mother?"

"Elise," he said.

"Elise?" So this went way back. "That girl he and Walter liked? What has she got to do with all of this?"

A bitter expression came over him. "Everything. He killed her. He killed my sister," he explained. Sister, huh. Walter never explained that Elise had a brother.

I snorted, "So what . . . you wait for more than twenty years to avenge your sister? How heroic, you deserve a round of applause. Now quit being a big drama queen and let us go."

"You don't understand!" he roared, "He did more than kill Elise! He stole from her the company he now calls 'Reynold Records'! It was supposed to be hers – my family's! He took everything from us!"

Just keep him going, Ollie. Let Glenda and Mitch watch. Anything to put their attention to me and not Mony. Little Mony . . .

"But that's impossible," I said coolly, "Reynold Records has been in the Reynolds lineage for long. Dad inherited it from his father – he managed it when I was young. It's all his."

Owen continued, "That's what he has the world believe! It belonged to my family, and Elise was supposed to be the next heir. In her will, it was entitled to him somehow. When I confronted Grant about it, he said it would've been what she wanted him to do! And then he sends me to prison for a crime I didn't commit – he kept me there for fifteen years!"

So my father could be that harsh. Mainly, this was his own fault.

"By chocolate, I hope you made your non-prison days count because after this, you sure as hell are coming back in there," I told him. One kick at my chest, sending me back on the wall, hitting my head. The bruises seemed to throb.

"You shut up," he growled, "He took my sister from me, so I take his daughters."

"I don't think it's that fair because there's two of us and –" Another kick sent me shutting up. I groaned as my head hit the cold hard ground. My arm twisted and the handcuffs clacked.

"What do you hope to accomplish when you do this? Revenge? And then what?" I mumbled. Just me, not Mony. Please. Just me, not my baby sister. Stall them until help arrives.

If I wasn't here, I thought to myself, it would be Mony they'll be beating up.

"I'll demand the company back and all the money it made," Owen replied, "I'm going to take back what is rightfully Elise's."

I pulled myself up, sitting up but leaning against the wall. Fight back, Ollie. Use your words. My eyes targeted at Glenda, who didn't look the slightest bit guilty. "Really?" I said to her, "You're letting this happen? Wait, wait a second. Don't tell me you just married him for the money!"

"Of course I did," Glenda spat out, "But all he used me for was babysitting. Owen here will split profits with me and hopefully, I'll divorce that bastard and marry Owen." As she said this, she carefully trailed a finger across Harmony's jaw.

"Gross. Villain love usually excites me, but you guys are disgusting."

Glenda merely smiled and pulled at Mony's hair. My sister gave a muffled scream. Please. Please. Not Mony. Just me. Not Mony.

Owen slapped me again. Kicked me. And then a punch. I was slightly shaking by the time he was finished.

"How long have you had her, huh?" I sputtered out blood. The metallic taste filled my mouth.

"Three days . . ." Glenda answered, "Haven't fed her since yesterday."

"You monster!"

"Enough of that," Owen snapped, "I've already called Grant and he'd coming to meet my demands. If he doesn't agree, I won't hesitate to kill you."

"Us? How valuable do you think we are to him?" I laughed again, despite the blood in my mouth. "He left me and he neglects Harmony. Work is much more important to him. If you wanted to scare him, you should've held his money hostage. I'm disappointed in you."

More kicks. More blows. More blood. "It's not just Grant I want to torture, Oliver," Owen said, "It's also Raquel. I offered her a plan to destroy Grant but the whore is too attached to her ex-husband –"

"Don't call my mother that!" I shouted. It echoed in the bare walls.

" – and this is for Walter Dale, too. He's part of Elise's death. A little birdy told me he's fond of you."

Mitchell, I thought that was our secret.

"No, I don't think you're getting away with this," I tried to keep my tone calm, "This is a stupid move you pulled off. They're going to come after you."

Police sirens. They grew louder each approaching minute. They were outside. My heart pumped harder. My fingers shook. Just hold on, Mony. Just a little more. They're here.

Glenda and Mitch looked slightly alarmed. But Owen wasn't the least bit fazed. I swore I saw his lips curl into a twisted grin. "No matter that the police are here," he said almost eagerly, "This makes it more fun. Let's see how your father likes to hear you scream."

Glenda handed him a megaphone. A megaphone. He didn't even have the guts to go out there and face them. But I held my breath when he pulled out a gun.

A gun. He had to have a gun.

"Freeze and drop any weapons. We have the warehouse surrounded," A voice sounded from the front doors.

Owen chuckled before putting up his own megaphone to his lips, "I want to speak to Grant Reynolds. And if you don't comply, I'll gladly shoot one of the girls."

Shoot me. Shoot me. Not Mony. Just not little Mony. Not my sister.

Silence and then shuffling. The seconds flying felt like hours. My heart went wild. I cajoled myself to calm down. Finally, a different voice spoke from the outside.

"Just let go of the girls, Owen. We can sort this out," the voice said. That wasn't my father. Was he even here? Or was he back in his house, hiding like a coward? Damn it, Dad, this was your fault. You should pay.

"Not you, Walter!" Owen yelled, "I want Grant Reynolds. Walter Dale, if you know better, you can help me destroy him. Remember what he did to our Elise. If you don't, you're going to regret it."

"You're going to regret this, Owen," said Walter, "Release them now. So we can avoid trouble." I marveled how his voice was steady. Listening to the conversation, I kept my eyes at Harmony. I wished I could tell what she was thinking.

"Grant Reynolds! I know you're out there! Speak to me!" Owen's words bounced on the walls, filling my ears. I cringed, exhaling heavily. Let this pass please. Let it be over.

Where was the part when I pass out and just wake up in a hospital?

Finally, Dad spoke through the megaphone outside. His voice never wavered when he said, "Let them go. You don't know what you're dealing with." I didn't know whether to be relieved or to panic, knowing my dad was here.

If he was, so were the others, probably. My message must've gotten through.

"I'll hurt them, Grant. Both of them," Owen threatened.

"You won't do that."

Oh, good. Now he'll get to prove you wrong, Dad. Way to go. "Watch me," Owen said softly. He leaned down on me and before I could register what was happening, his mouth latched onto my neck.

I closed my eyes and took gasps and gasps of breaths. I chanted for myself – if not me, then it's Mony. Mony, little Mony. Let them hurt me, just not my baby sister. I didn't even realize I was screaming and writhing until I heard the sounds through the megaphone. Owen was kissing down my neck to my chest.

Tears escaped my eyes as he sucked on a spot. My throat felt sore. I heard a faint commotion outside.

And then Owen stopped. In satisfaction , Owen stood up and went back to the megaphone. "You believe me now, Grant?" he said.

Dad's voice came out like a whisper. A horrified whisper. "What do you want?"

"Your company and everything under it, including its money. It's rightfully mine, of course, because you took it from Elise," Owen recited it like a memorized speech, "And you know what's better? If Walter contributes to the money."

"And if I don't?"

"I already gave you a demonstration. Until you give me what I want, I will hold onto dear Oliver and Harmony here. But ha! Maybe I could give over just one of them and keep one to grant my favors," Owen glanced at me. Oops. I could be the trophy to flaunt.

"What do you say, Grant?" he said, "Are we in a deal?"

Silence. My chest ached from pounding too hard. Was my dad actually hesitating? So that was what his daughters were worth? Equivalent to his own company. Minutes. Minutes. Silence. Silence. Owen was having fun kicking me again for intermission.

" . . . Done." My father croaked.

"Very well –"

And then it all happened so fast. A gunshot tore throughout the place. I bowed by my head and ducked but I also kept a close eye on Harmony. The bullet came from the outside. It must've missed, seeing nobody was hit, but Owen was livid.

He aimed his own gun at Harmony. Mony. Little Mony . . .

I heard her whimpers muffled and her tears were cascading down her eyes. I begged my voice to say something. To let Owen point it at me instead. But my throat clogged up and my own eyes welled with tears.

What was that? Was that me screaming? A very loud scream, that echoed off the walls strongly?

The gun fired.

Then everything fell into a loud silence, that you could hear a pin dropped. I sagged against the wall, my wounds, cuts, and bruises numbing. Even Glenda and Mitch were speechless, appalled. I couldn't bear to look at Owen. I couldn't get myself to listen carefully at what might be going on outside.

What kind of sick joke was my brain playing on me? It was over, right? Why wasn't I fainting? Why wasn't I passed out?

I was waiting. Maybe the trauma was late? I didn't know. I should be crumpled up on the floor right now, my mind on shut down. What happened? I was so sleepy a while ago, and now I was wide awake.

The wonders of the human brain.

I could make out Owen speaking through the megaphone again, in intense conversation with whoever was outside. But what I could only hear were murmurings and incoherent words. The sound of the gunshot and ringing filled my ears. My vision was getting blurry each passing second.

I was in a distracted daze. I could feel my mouth agape and my head lowered but I couldn't seem to bring my body to move.

But reflex suddenly kicked in when thick blood headed my way. I quickly backed away as far as I could on the wall. That blood. That wasn't mine. It was flooding. And it was Mony's. It was on the floor. It was getting to my hands.

She wasn't dead. She wasn't dead. Not dead.

Now, as I felt the liquid running underneath me, followed by the overwhelming stench, I still couldn't believe it happened. As I looked up to see her motionless figure on the chair, I still couldn't believe she was dead.

The plan. Is just screwed up the plan. I had one job and I blew it. It was supposed to be me, not Mony. I was the one taunting Owen – she shouldn't have been brought into this. I was kicked around and held against my will for nothing.

Harmony. Mony. Little Mony . . .

What's this stupid prank? Brain, why was I still awake? I was literally bathed in the blood of my baby sister and you chose not to let me sleep? Are you crazy?

Maybe. Maybe if I closed my eyes and let go of the tension in by body, I could pretend I was already out like a light. That I was unconscious. I could barely hear a thing anyway. So I did that. I closed my eyes and threw back my head.

I should just die right now.

I could faintly hear Owen still conversing with Dad. I didn't know what they were talking about. I didn't care. I hardly winced when I another gunshot echoed inside the room.

A gunshot.

From the outside.

♫ ♫ ♫

Oh.

Wait, what?

You've got to kidding me.

What the hell, brain? Why were you designed to be such an asshole? Cut the crap and all the jokes, let me sleep in peace. Oh, what was that? Where was I? No, not in the warehouse anymore. I didn't think so.

Time to make deductions.

Soft underneath me – bed. I felt like I was moving, but not really. My legs weren't moving. Was I floating? Hold on, no. I was in a car. In a vehicle. Sirens blasted. Ah, must be the ambulance. Of course, they'll rush me here. And what was that? I felt people around me.

Someone was holding my hand. Hold up. This hand felt familiar.

Other than that, I couldn't feel anything else. My body felt numb. Must be the blood. My ears had poor hearing at the moment. I didn't dare open my eyes. I was supposed to be sleeping – I didn't want to take any bull from other people right now.

"I can't believe this happened," the person holding my hand said. Right beside me, I could feel it. I felt a piece of my hair being tugged away from my face.

Jackson. You just had to be here, didn't you?

Wait, what else did I hear? Sobbing and sniveling. Soothing words. It was from my left side. A picture was forming. I was in the ambulance with paramedics and friends. Jackson right beside me, Montana crying and Brennan holding her.

Good to know they were here.

Jackson's fingertips seemed to drift to my collarbone. I felt tickled by his light touch. "He choked her, didn't he?" he whispered. He pressed lightly on a spot. It hurt. Ouch, man.

"That's not a bruise," another voice said from my right hand side. Lawrence.

"That's a hickey," Jess continued.

The little shit.

Upon hearing this, Jackson cursed, muttering vows that he was going to kill my captors. I fought the urge to retort at him, saying that his words were no good.

Did I smell something? I tensed up for a split second. The scents of blood and rubbing alcohol aside, there was something else. A sweet smell. Sort of. It was on the tip of my tongue. What was that smell?

Dark chocolate. Like, the darkest kind.

I imagined what it tasted it like. Bitter, so bitter, but tolerable as a dessert. With a kind of sweet aftertaste. It was all I could concentrate on right now – the scent of the chocolate. It reminded me of my situation right now – so dark, so gloomy.

Someone was munching on it here. My money was on Lawrence.

Suddenly, I felt it coming closer. I could smell it right under my nose, just on my upper lip. Was he holding it for me to smell? Like a medicine?

I heard Jessica snap at him, "What are you doing?"

"She likes chocolate. Maybe it will make her feel better," Lawrence said. Nobody replied back. I figured they all knew that it was his way of holding onto a little hope. A desperate attempt to lighten up the mood.

But I was still breathing, was I?

I checked briefly. Yeah, I was still breathing. Not dead.

Lawrence took the chocolate back. No, come back! I liked the chocolate. I wanted to eat it. It was my cure right now!

I guessed I had to hand it to Lawrence for making me relax even only for a few seconds. He knew what to do. He knew what was right for me at this moment.

Or he was trying to get me to wake up.

I guess he was the only one who saw my hand twitch.

♫ ♫ ♫