Chapter twenty seven: Syndicate
Matthew woke up in a panic. He was sweating profusely, his heart beating rapidly and with his eyes darting to the bright sunshine that shone through his window, he heaved a sigh. The last thing he remembered was embracing the darkness and he was almost sure he heard glass break.
Fear crossed his expression and with his gut instinct yelling out to him that something was wrong, he automatically assumed it was the men he owed money to. During his sister's absence, he resorted back to old ways to provide himself with an escape from reality and upon falling hooked on the illegal substances, he took more than he could afford. Now, he was terrified of the consequences, for they'd only use his sister as revenge, much like Lorea's men would do to him. They were never safe in their apartment but now, they desperately needed to escape before they were slaughtered like animals.
He hurled himself out of bed, not bothering to grab the lone shirt off the ground and when he tugged his shorts on, he grabbed the baseball bat and entered the hallway, quietly on his toes with his weapon raised.
From what it seemed, the apartment was untouched. The little they owned remained intact and if the drug dealers had busted in, there would be clear evidence of their mark and their presence would have been made known. Although he stood tall with his six foot two height, he would be defenceless against a ruthless bunch of criminals, unless his sister was in the mix who'd simply shoot all round her, given her equally savage past.
At the recollection of his sister, his face fell and he no longer cared about the silent tactic. He knocked on her closed door and when he didn't get an answer, he began to fret. She was a light sleeper and she'd awaken at the slightest sound of a footstep creaking on the wooden floor. Something was wrong and the his gut only compressed tighter.
"Margo! Open up!" He banged impatiently on the door. "I heard glass shattering and I just need to know if you're okay."
On the countdown of three, he didn't wait to hear for a response because apart of him knew he wasn't going to get one. So with a run, he braced himself as he made an impact against the door and when it swung open, he dropped the bat onto the floor.
What he saw brought tears to his eyes. And in a hurry, he dropped to his knees and delicately moved the shards of glass away from Margo's body. She lay, lifeless in a way that made the tears burst out and roll down his cheek. His masculinity no longer mattered to him in the moment because the strongest woman he's ever known had resigned herself to her demons.
With the red liquor that stained the floor, it was hard to decipher between the alcohol and the blood. Her blonde hair was tatted and coated in crimson, as well as her skin that was pierced with the bottle's glass. The worst of all was her cold temperature. He then realised he heard the shattering in his sleep and he'd only woken up recently, so how long had she been like this for? Then, he observed her expression and he shakily sighed. She looked inconsolably sad but content with her position.
"Oh my God." He shook her body vigorously, much like she'd done to Tom, only this time, Matthew's voice made it obvious that he had everything to lose. "Wake up!"
With each shove, the only movement was the unclenching of her fingers and the blonde locks that fell around her shoulders. In an act of despair, he flung the closest object to him across the room and stood up off the ground, running his fingers through his hair and tugging on the ends. Then, with her phone, he quickly dialled the emergency helpline and demanded for an ambulance to save Margo.
***
Concussion, acute pneumonia and from the symptoms that had been given, perhaps mild post-traumatic stress disorder, amongst other mental illnesses but the one thing the nurses didn't disclose to the twenty two year old male; pregnancy. Margo, with everything she endured over such a short period of time, was not only suffering the side effects of being a fugitive but the consequences of an unprotected pregnancy; one she did not need at this very moment in time.
Matthew had reluctantly allowed the nurses access to Margo's phone. He briefly explained that his sister went out of town for several days with friends and he had no answers, therefore, the only way to solve the case was to contact the man under the name of 'father dearest'. When he saw the name titled as one of her favourite contacts, he could only frown as a list of other commando nicknames were favourite and he wondered if he ever knew the real Margo. Still, through all the secrecy, he loved her like no other and promised to never leave her side.
When the phone rang with Margo's number, Frankie was worried. He knew that Margo wouldn't phone him without reason but something unsettled him, and when he heard the news that she was in hospital and suffering, he told the nurse he'd gather up the Miller boys and be there in an hour, to which she shrugged, not knowing who these men were but she was almost certain drama would follow.
Matthew had watched the men come into view, all with the same troubled expression. It was evident that Margo meant a lot to these people but without knowing who they were, Matthew's face evaporated from stressed to a firm glare. When the men saw a tall, brooding male, they made the mental connection that this was the youngest Hargrove. With the pouted lips, cold eyes and sandy hair, they recognised him from several years ago. He'd grown into a man and resembled a warrior, much like his sister who's footsteps he'd followed from birth.
"Hey, kid." Frankie's voice spoke with a sigh. "How is she?"
"I don't know. I'm not a fucking doctor."
Frankie took the hat off his head and feathered down his hair, making a mental note to tread on eggshells. If he was anything like Margo, he'd be a volcano, ready to erupt at any second. "I'm guessing she's not too great then."
"I don't even know anything about her, dude." Glaring, Matt looked to the men behind the older male. "Why does my sister always have men crowding round her like she's the last woman on earth? She doesn't need all of this."
Snorting, Frankie's raising eyebrows agreed. "That's the Margo effect for ya."
"What do you mean? Who the hell are these two?"
Ben, who held flowers in his hands, stuck out the free hand and introduced himself without a smile. "I'm Ben and this is William."
The colour drained from Matthew's face, as though it were possible to stress anymore. These were the men Margo had been talking about; the two brothers who fell for her and equally, it sounded like she'd fallen for them too.
"I think it's best if you two leave."
William pushed past Ben's raised arm that tried to block him from stepping towards the younger boy. "I think it's best that you show us a little respect. We're all scared and we all want what's best for her."
"He may be her 'father dearest' but y'all don't mean shit to me." Matthew averted his eyes from Frankie to the Millers, he too stepping forward in a way to dare William to try him. "And if you wanted what's best for her, you and your gardener of a brother should get your asses out of here. She doesn't need this drama right now."
Keeping her eyes closed, matching her breaths to the beeping of the machines that surrounded the bed, the only indications of her heartbeat, her existence. Her legs were numb. Curiosity slowly pried open her swollen eyes to meet a dismal view of a magnolia coloured hospital room, the door a navy blue and the white blinds shut to conceal the outside world from seeing her and vise versa. She was trapped with nothing but an IV wedged inside her hand to pass saline through the needle to provide her with all her lacking vitamins and nutrition.
She felt sore, but she couldn't decipher where from. The back of her head throbbed in pain and with the amount of trauma that had been inflicted upon the same area, serious damaged lay beneath her skull as a result of a concussion. With the sudden difficulty of breathing, she wheezed as she sat up but she learned the hard way that the movement was too sudden.
Looking down, she noticed the small gown that had been wore instead of her own clothes and she suddenly grew self conscious. A member of the staff had seen her body and in the daylight, they witnessed every little bruise and scar that littered her body. That early morning she shared passion with Ben, she made sure the dawn had been shallow enough for him not to be able to see her flaws but she undoubtedly knew the topic would be brought up. She was broken from the inside and out.
"Miss Hargrove." The chip middle aged nurse smiled down to Margo. "You gave us all quite the scare, so you did."
Groggy and thirsty, Margo croaked. "Why? What's wrong? What happened?"
"Your brother told us that you had a little too much to drink last night. You fell, hit your head again and we discovered that you had underlying head trauma which has resulted in a concussion. You are also malnourished but the drip and a healthy diet will help with that in no time but with other reports, we have been able to detect PTSD which can be helped with therapy."
Margo looked sceptical and was able to read the nurse like a book. "It sounds like there's something else you need to tell me."
Swallowing, the nurse looked down to the clipboard in her hands and when she caught Margo's eye, she quickly washed over with sympathy. "Miss Hargrove, are you aware that you are pregnant?"