Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 32 - 36

Chapter 32: Chapter 36

Kelsey and I share a long couch in the primary cabin of the plane.

She’s fast asleep on the other side, resting her head on a pillow that’s positioned against the arm of the couch. Whilst I vociferously read offline articles on Grayson, media coverage of his death. We’ve been in the air for about ten hours and all I’ve been doing is reading and re-reading the same concocted lie. The media are feeding the public a story that Grayson Adler was shot and killed in his home during a burglary gone wrong—nevermind how they bypassed Governor Adler’s sophisticated security system and the war-band of guards patrolling his estate. However, I suppose it is a palatable lie compared to the unfathomable truth.

I look up, my eyes wandering until they fall on Landen but he’s already staring at me. I return my gaze back to the screen. After a moment, I sneak a glance at him to see he’s still staring, seated at the same individual unit he was in when the plane took off. Unlike Vance, who retired to one of the suites hours ago. Yes, the private plane has bedrooms!

I look away, my focus suddenly scattered. Both of us are so close, yet a chasm of silence deepens the distance between us, tension filling the void. I steal another look and again, he’s still staring, a burgeoning smile on his face, something sincere turning into something sly.

Landen rises. I spurt to my feet on impulse.

He cocks his head to the side curiously, advancing towards me at a slow but somehow daunting pace, like a predator that already knows its prey is his. I rotate and walk towards the passageway.

"Are you running from me?"

"I’m not?" A sharp ring in my voice. "I’m just getting a call and I want some privacy."

"There’s no cell reception at this altitude."

He quickens his pace, forcing me to hasten mine.

"What are you doing?" His tone is slick with amusement.

I go to the first door, swinging it open and shutting it behind me, locking it. I release a breath, my shoulders slumping.

"Well, this is unexpected."

I whirl around. Vance takes an Ipad-looking device, a touch-controlled lighting pad, because with a spin of his index finger, the dim, sensuous lights brighten into a full glow. He rests on a queen-size bed, reclining on premium sheets, dressed in a white tank top and gray sweatpants.

"I’m so sorry—" I pivot sharply, "—I was just leaving."

"No. Stay."

A request not issued out as a usual demand but more like a plea.

I twist around, semi-surprised.

"I actually wanted to talk to you." He pushes himself up straight, sinews of muscle tautening. "I just didn’t know how to... bring it up."

I lean my back against the door.

He observes me for a moment with careful deliberation.

And his condolences are even etched in his features as they harden into a grim look.

"I heard about Grayson," he says solemnly. He runs a hand through his bed hair, even disheveled, it somehow still looks stylish. "The news says that the robbers came in after the guests left?"

I roll my shoulders back, tension knotting inside me. "I don’t really want to talk about it."

He looks back at me with soft eyes and pats the empty space next to him.

Instead, I go to the foot of the bed, easing down carefully.

"I know I said I didn’t like the guy, but damn. I never wanted him dead."

"Your instincts about him were right," I blurt, the truth like a pent-up pressure building inside of me, reaching for its zenith.

"What?"

"You said that there was something off about him." I slant to the side to fully face him, bringing my knee onto the bed. "I thought you were crazy. Of course I did, because I knew him—at least I thought I did. We weren’t close but... I felt comfortable around him. I thought he was my friend."

His face twists into visible perplexity. "And wasn’t he?"

"You know, I don’t hold it against you for not trusting me. I commend it, actually." My eyes lock on a random spot on the carpet. "It’s smart because the truth is no matter how close, blood or not, years or naught. You never really know someone."

***

I step off the last stair of the plane and onto the asphalt.

The plane landed on a private airstrip, parked right outside of an open hangar bay. Two BMWs and a security escort wait outside for our arrival. A whole convoy with at least four guards, excluding the drivers. Kelsey exits the plane next, hobbling down the steps, squinting at the intense sunlight. Vance follows with a harried look on his face and trouble brewing in his eyes as he scans our environment. Unlike Kels and I, he has just figured out where the hell we are.

He frees his frustration with a heavy sigh.

"What, what’s wrong?" I ask.

He pauses halfway. "Landen is not going to like this."

"Sixteen hours, straight sober." Landen’s voice booms from the inside. "That bastard had the liquor removed from the main bar, the mini bar and—" He emerges in the doorway and his words wither into nothingness.

He takes in our surroundings, which isn’t much because it’s a private airport. As far as I’m concerned, we could be anywhere in the world. But by the horror teeming in Landen’s eyes, he knows exactly where he is, and Vance was right. He is beyond pissed.

"No fucking way." He retreats a step. "Edward, get this plane back in the fucking air!"

"Landen."

Vance rotates and trots back up the steps.

Landen points at him, stabbing his finger at him accusingly. "Did you know? Tell me you did so I won’t feel guilty after beating your ass and sending your body off to the closest hospital."

Landen disappears back inside, then so does Vance. I glance back at Kelsey, her head is inclined, staring after him until he vanishes. Suddenly, a resounding bang snatches my attention—Vance’s frame slices through air sharply, knocking back into the side surface wall of the interior. His gaze turns fierce, sympathy evaporating in seconds. He lengthens himself into his full height, with his stalwart shoulders set and his eyes dead-locked on him. Vance stalks after him, disappearing out of view. Kelsey and I exchange wide-eyed looks before we rush up the stairs simultaneously, spilling back inside the plane.

The brothers are nose-to-nose yelling in each other’s face, clenched fists itching to be thrown. And violence teetering the brink.

"You’re getting off this plane."

"Ain’t no fucking way." Landen shoves him back a step again. "Tell Edward to get this plane back up."

Vance tries to take deep breaths, shoulders heaving, clearly trying to calm himself down. "He doesn’t take orders from you. You know why father chose this place. It’s the only way we can make her a part of this."

"A part of what?" he barks back, venom dripping into his voice. "Your fake marriage? Yeah, she would be so proud."

"Don’t be a dick about it. Just get out."

He nods with a mad glint in his eyes. "I will. And if Edward won’t take me back. I’m going to the public airport to book myself a flight."

Vance jabs a hard hand on his chest to stop him. "As if you even know how to do that. Stop being a spoiled little cunt and get off or I will drag you out."

Landen lurches. I lunge forward to wedge myself between them, easing Vance back.

I turn my attention to Landen. "I get you don’t want to be here, but we’re already here. Please, can we just get through this week, make our dads happy and move on? Peacefully. Please."

His face is so uncharacteristically serious, so harsh and hard, I could easily confuse him with Vance. Landen chucks me a considerate look, grunts and marches out of the plane.

I stare back at Vance, raising my shoulders to my ears. "Where the heck are we?"

He looks away, his jaw ticking. "The last place on earth my brother and I would ever want to come back to."

He leaves me with that vague statement and I follow out after him. Vance and Landen take the one BMW and Kelsey and I climb into the backseat of the other. Shortly, the entire convoy rolls out, making a mass exodus out of the private airport.

"What was all that about?"

I face Kelsey, crossing my one leg over the other. "No idea, but this place has Landen triggered."

She chaffs at the understatement. "Yeah, I can tell Vance is not a fan of this place, either." She takes out her phone, busying herself briefly.

A while into the drive, a castle of boughs and branches soar into view. We traverse through a thick copse of forestry, limbs of wood adorned with luxuriant foliage, an Elysium-green, bright and almost heavenly. The great apexes loom in the distance like steel-tipped arrows puncturing the torso of the sky. My phone buzzes. The percentage below three percent. I answer. A bombardment of static crackling through, drowning out a muffled voice. I tear it from my ear before I hear a voice break through the noise.

"Hello?"

"A-A-Avara?"

"Simon?"

His words cut out: static splicing into every sentence he utters.

"Simon, I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up."

The line goes dead.

Kelsey reaches over to slap my arm. I respond with an irritated look.

"Who the hell is Simon?"

A strange sense of dread blooms in my gut. I can’t detect its origin.

All I know is that something is wrong.