Perfect Storm

• Perfect Storm • | 31 |

"Let us build a plan first, at least. It's already 8 pm. Let's make a plan, get some rest, and then we'll go. Okay?" hesitantly I nod.

He pats me on the back before sitting on the couch at the side of the office. "Well? Let's make this plan."

•••

About 2 hours later, Marshall is gone and everyone is asleep.

Everyone except me.

I pick up a gun and check the clip to make sure it's full before stuffing it in my waistband.

I open the garage door and hop in the only car we have here and start the engine. We have a motorcycle out back for emergencies. I went the extra mile and emptied the gas tank to make sure J doesn't try to follow me.

I know what I'm doing is risky, but I have to do something. For me, for me and James's past, and for my family, for Astoria.

James did a lot for me when we were still in captivity. He took a lot of beatings for me, took over the blame, and gave me his food when I was still hungry. I have to do this, if I don't then, all the pain he went through was for nothing.

Keith won't stop until we're begging him for mercy or under his control again. And I will never, let someone control me again.

I drive down the long, single road, no idea what I'm going to do or how. The plan we made required both of us so it wouldn't apply here.

I just know that when I get there, bullets will fly, whether their mine or his.

My mind begins to shift to the woman in my bed. The woman who is broken, just like me. We're broken together. If I'm not there with her, she'll be broken alone. Her face rests in the front of my mind, shaking her head at my actions.

It's okay, amore mio, I'll be home soon.

•••

I pull up to the somewhat fancy truck stop about an hour later. I look up at the tall hotel behind the gas station and stores. I take a deep breath before getting out of the car.

I'm scared like hell but hey, "Fake it till you make it." I whisper to myself. Before I walk away an old man sitting on the curb speaks up.

"You scared you gonna lose to gambling too? Don't worry son, I gotta extra pillow." he slurs and I shake away the thoughts in my head.

"If only I was here to gamble, old man." I sigh and walk away toward the entrance of the building. I walk in and a bell dings at my presence, alerting the receptionist.

A woman walks out from a room behind the counter and powers on her computer as I walk up to her.

"Hello sir, how may I help you?" her accent sounds southern as she talks.

I lean on the counter and think of what to say. "Hi, I, uh, I need to know the room number of someone staying here." she shakes her head at the request and smacks her gum.

"No, sir, I can't legally do that. Anything else?" she spins in her chair while looking at her black nail polish.

Think, think, think.

"He's uh, he's my dad. Keith Landon?" Me and James took our mother's last name. Thank the fucking heavens or I would've gotten it changed the second I could.

The woman lets out an overdramatic, irritated sigh. She stands from her chair and puts both hands on the counter. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't reveal another customer's information. Now is there anything that I can help you with?" the tone in her voice is stressing me out.