“You’re the insane man who left?”
“I’m not insane.” He shook his head and pointed around the hospital. “Do you know how many times we’ve come to this hospital? This whole suite was designed not for high profile people, but us. Why? Because over and over again this family gets itself into shit so deep there is no avoiding this place…or the morgue. Normal people don’t live this way.”
“Yea.” I nodded, thinking about how I too wanted to be normal so many years ago.
“You don’t seem like the usual devoted worshiper,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing in on me.
“What?”
“Those fools.” He pointed to both Greyson and…Toby, I think. Both of whom didn’t even bother looking at him. “The idiots who would die for people in this family just because—”
“That idiot.” I pointed to Greyson. “He’s the one who found your grandmother and brought her out before…before it could have been much worse. I’m not a devoted worshiper like you said, but at the very least don’t call him an idiot. He’s a hero.”
He glanced back at Greyson, who still didn’t look at him, remaining kind of like those guards with funny hats in London…just without the funny hats.
“Greyson, apparently I owe you one.”
“Our supreme leader has told us not to acknowledge you, so you may keep your favor,” Greyson said like a robot, and I laughed.
I take it back! Nope, definitely not like the London Guards.
“Still as petty as always.” He snickered, shaking his head. Then he focused on me. “If you aren’t one of the followers, where are you from?”
“You don’t know?” I frowned at that.
“Don’t take it personally.” He leaned back into his seat. “I do my best to avoid any talk about the Irish, or the Italians, or any that involves this family.”
“I’m from Boston,” I said and his eyebrows came together in confusion.
“Boston, Massachusetts?”
“Born and raised,” I said with pride.
I could tell he was torn between asking more and not wanting to get involved, as he said, with this family.
“I have a question for you, as your future sister-in-law.”
“I make no promises I’ll answer, but you can ask.”
“I want normal too,” I said, so he knew I wasn’t trying to attack him. “I’ve always wanted normal. I wanted my mom to do my hair for prom. My dad to walk me down to aisle. To graduate from Boston U with a degree in Biochemistry and Pharmaceutical Science and become famous for creating lifesaving medicine. Have a house with a porch so I could watch it rain or snow, with a pet, most likely a dog because my dad was allergic to cats. Maybe a Russell terrier?”
“Is there a question in all of this?” He smiled. I was sure he liked the thought of it.
“Yea.” I nodded. “What do you do when you become a victim?”
“What?”
“What do you do when you become a victim?” I asked him again. “You called me insane for joining this family. But I never dreamed my life would be like this. But my mother was murdered. Then my father was murdered. Then I was lied to, conned, and then I lost seven years of my life because not one person had my back. Not my family. Not the police nor the courts. No one. Your family didn’t do that to me. Life did. What am I supposed to do? Wait for karma? Wait for justice? Two hundred women were in my cell block, who all wanted normal and something went wrong. Many of them by their own hands…far too many by the hands of others. If it were someone else, some other family that controlled instead of the Callahans, you’d be in that church too. No one would have carried your grandmother out. So tell me? What do you do? Because from what I’ve seen if you aren’t the victimizer…you’re the victim.”
He shook his head, rising to his feet. “You’ll fit in well, Ivy.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m going to check in with the hospital and see if any of the other victims need help. She’ll most likely be out for another few hours. Let the supreme one know.” He patted both Greyson’s and Toby’s shoulders before heading to the elevator.
There was no need to let him know because the moment the doors closed Ethan walked out into the lobby. I was sure he’d heard the conversation. And though he didn’t seem fazed, there was something in his eyes as he stared at the closed elevator doors.
“Call the car,” he directed at one of them.
“Are you going somewhere?” I asked, rising from the seat and standing in front of him. His gaze lowered down to me. Without my heels I felt very small under his stare.
“Yes. To be the victimizer,” he replied, walking around me and toward the elevator. Obviously he listened in on our conversation. “Go rest.”
“The moment shit hits the fan, as tends to happen in the Callahan family, he’ll realize you aren’t strong enough to be his woman.”
Her words bothered me. I felt like if I went to bed as he went out I’d be proving her right. And so when the light came on indicating that the elevator came, I stood beside him.
“What are you doing?”
“Following you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to hear about you from other people,” I said, stepping onto the elevator. He and his guards just stared at me, not moving. “Are you coming?”
“Ivy, it isn’t a gam—”
“Oops!” I closed the doors, yelling, “Sorry, you’re going to have to catch the next one!”
I laughed, wishing so badly I could see the look on his face. He’d probably never had anyone do that to him before. When I reached the bottom floor, I realized I might have really been insane because that was when I saw it, the sheer chaos. People were still being rushed in, and doctors and nurses were everywhere. Wyatt, who’d only come down a few minutes ago, was somehow already on a stretcher working over a small girl, trying to put a tube down her throat. When he got it in he jumped down, yelling a few directions before rushing toward the next patient. Blood dripped all over the floors, which were quickly being cleaned by the janitors. In the waiting area people still dressed in their church clothes sat hugging onto each other tightly.
“Don’t go anywhere without letting me know and at least one guard.” Ethan appeared at my side, and I jumped, not even realizing how long I’d been standing there. He looked over at the lobby with not a single emotion. How, I wasn’t sure. “Let’s go.”
I followed behind him as he walked toward the glass doors and again I was so distracted by everything that I walked into his back, not realizing he’d stopped. He stood straighter, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Sorry,” I muttered, brushing my hair behind my ears.
Facing in front, I saw a small boy, maybe seven or eight, holding on to the arm of some stuffed animal…I couldn’t tell what because he only had what was left of it…the arm.
“Yes?” Ethan asked him.
“You Mr. Callahan?” The boy frowned.