Cameron
It had been hours since I had been pulled from Alara's cell, and I had been shoved into a room that wasn't the one that I had woken up in, this one was furnished and looked like a genuine bedroom, but I didn't miss how everything was bolted to the ground, to ensure that I couldn't use any of them as a weapon.
Smart.
They knew how deadly I could be even with a scarp of loose wood, and they weren't going to take any chances.
Dane had thrown a plastic coated suit at me, with a pair of dress shoes, I recognised the suit immediately. It was my father's, a deep onyx black that shone, it wasn't a matt material more of an undulating colour when it caught the light like it was alive, an oil spill rather than the night sky sort of black.
I had seen pictures, of my parent's wedding, he wore this very suit, with a white pocket square the only difference in what had been given to me was that the pocket square was red, a deep blood red. And I laughed at the irony, it was no mere coincidence I guess my father just wanted to make sure I knew exactly what this marriage was built upon, blood and diamonds.
I thought of my mother, whether she knew about anything that was happening, I had deluded myself into believing that my father loved my mother, it was merely a transaction to him, but I knew she had fallen in love with him, after so long being trapped in a relationship it was only natural to warm to that person. And there were times when I could trick myself into thinking that father had glanced at mother with a little less malice than he usually did. There was no denying that my mother was a beautiful woman and even if my father did not love her, there was lust in his eyes during the wedding photos and videos. And I knew that tiny bit of emotion directed to my mother made her stay, made her convince herself that maybe one day he could love her, but that certain type of emotion and transform it into something pure.
That's why when I was told about my marriage to Alara, I vowed to myself I would never treat her how my father treated my mother, even if I could not love her, I would make clear to her that I would protect her, that I wouldn't mistreat her, that she would be safe. And a whole lot of good that plan was. It ended with me falling hard and fast for her, for wanting to do more than just protect her, I wanted her to be the happiest person in the world, and have all the freedoms that I knew as a kid growing up in the gang world she would have been deprived of in her childhood.
I wanted to give her the perfect everything, before everything went to shit I had talked to Leo about how I could propose again, in a better way, maybe even actually getting down on one knee for my tune had changed from the arrogance of I bend for no one.
As I pulled on the suit I noticed another difference between my father's wedding suit and this one, the shirt wasn't white like his, it was black. And strangely unlike the rest of the suit it hadn't been pressed or ironed properly, that was when I realised that not only was there a black shirt there was a white one. The white one was pressed and clearly went with the suit, it was by the same manufacturer and was definitely my father's, the black one on the other hand tucked beneath the blazer and waistcoat, was crumpled and torn, it was then I realised that it was the very same shirt I had worn on the day of the Wolfsbane ball, the shirt that Alara had chosen for me.
But how was it here?
And importantly why was it here?
I only had a limited amount of time to change before Dane barged his way in, I needed to hide this shirt, so as quickly as possibly I shucked off my clothing and slipped into the suit, wearing the white shirt instead of the black one, and expertly tying my tie and pressing the pocket square into it's designated place.
Then I pulled the black shirt free, turning it around to see if there was anything on it. It had to be some sort of message, it couldn't be, nothing, no one would go to the trouble of handing me a torn shirt. It needed to have something on it.
I started to think about the significance of the shirt, it had been something Alara had chosen, it had been what saved me at the ball as it allowed me to blend in with the other soldiers. I tried to look at the stitching, to see if any sections looked like they had been tampered with or if there were loose restitching. That was when I spotted it, at the collar of the shirt, where the size and the manufacturer were printed. I knew for a fact that the sizing hadn't been in numbers before, there had been a stitched M before and now there were 3 numbers, 872.
It had to be a code, but it wasn't translating into any of the common codes I knew or hexadecimal, it was probably a PIN. I searched through the rest of the suit packaging reading into it, but there was nothing at all.
With a frustrated sigh, I sat down just to feel something press against my back pocket. I reached in and there appeared to be nothing at all, the pocket was empty.
I angled myself in front of the mirror to see if there was any giveaway from something being in the pocket but all seemed to be smooth.
I reached back into the pocket and felt my nail nick against a sharp metal point. My heart soared as I thought I had been given a weapon, only to think that it couldn't be, it was far too small and had nothing to do with the number on the collar.
I paused a moment, it felt like a needle, with pained effort I pulled at the needle, my grasp on it was fickle and I knew the only way forward was to allow it to puncture my skin, a little bite of pain just to get it loose and unthread the stitches that had been done at the bottom of the pocket. With a slight hiss, the needle dug into the soft flesh at my fingertips and when it was deeply embedded it was far easier to remove. It really did feel like I was trying to find a needle in a haystack if the haystack were my dress trousers and I had already very much found the needle and it was attacking my skin.
Soon I was able to pull the needle out and felt the rush of thread being pulled too, soon the trouser pocket was twice as deep and there was definitely something at the bottom. I carefully removed the needle from my index finger, pressing the small drop of blood into my mouth to stop the bleeding and disinfect the small wound with the enzymes in my saliva.
As soon as that was dealt with threaded the needle into the inside of the blazer just encase I needed it, even though it was small stabbed in the right place with the right force could be deadly, and some weapon, even a needle, was better than no weapon. I reached down into the pocket, my hand delving deep so it was almost halfway down the trouser leg, and I felt it and an incredibly thin sheet of something, I pulled it out and was astonished to see what appeared to be a phone.
But it was thinner than any phone I had ever handled, twice as thin, and I was sure it had to be because otherwise, it would be very obvious from the outside that an object had been slipped into his suit.
I looked up at the clock realising that I had less than five minutes before Dane came in to get me, and I knew that I had to be quick.
I pressed the side button and the device illuminated softly, it was a muted light far too dim and nowhere near the intensity of a regular phone but he guessed that was a good thing, it would conserve battery life.
The screen held the current time and the date, just 3 days after Alara and I were dancing in our small living room.
I swiped the screen to unlock the phone and was presented with a muted grey PIN pad.
This must be the code.
But when I read the line beneath the instruction my heart fell:
Your pin contains at least 5 digits
That was a problem because I had only been given three.
I typed in the three numbers followed by 1 and then 2 just in case it was something simple like that, the phone vibrated in my hand turning an angry shade of red.
Two attempts remaining before shut down
Fuck.
I had to think carefully, it had to be some sort of meaningful number, I looked back at the shirt rumpled and cut open in many places but there were no other numbers.
Our engagement day perhaps?
I typed in 872 followed by 23, the date of our engagement, October 23.
The phone vibrated once more, flashing red again, and my heart was in my throat constricting, as the screen displayed the message:
One attempt remaining before shut down.
I cursed under my breath, half wanting to throw the phone at the wall but knowing how unbelievably stupid that would be, I had 3 and half minutes before Dane would be making his way back, so I had to think.
I stared down at the shirt, why wasn't anything clicking in my head? What could it be.
What was the significance of the shirt?
That was when it hit me, who would have access to this shirt? It couldn't have been anyone from my gang, I had left it at the Wolfsbane ball, which meant that the only person it could have come from would have been Owen.
But what two numbers did I associate with Owen?
It couldn't be as obvious as his age, that would be pointless.
It had to do with the shirt I knew it had to, and that's when it hit me.
The ball was to celebrate Owen and Kayla's marriage anniversary.
And I remember the look of pride on his face when Alara asked how long he and Kayla had been together, I remembered that pure look of happiness when he said it but I also remember him telling me after Alara went dancing with Theo, "You be sure to remember that, Cam, anniversaries are important but the years together are even more important."
"How long have you been together?"
Alara's voice rang through my head.
"5 years strong,"
This was my final guess, 05, the number of years they had been married, so I had to be all in, it was the only significant number that I could associate with Owen the only one who would be able to get this to me, he was a much more experienced gang leader, he had known it was my father who carried out the attacks, the only one outside of the gang who knew.
So taking one deep breath, I punched in the numbers.
8.
7.
2.
0.
5.
I held my breath for a moment waiting for the phone to shut down and for an angry red message to pop up but instead.
"Cam, you bastard, you've got yourself into a hell of a lot of trouble haven't you."