Stoking the Fire (Salus Security #1) - Teodora Kostova Page 0,85
as soon as possible.”
I also need to get my phone back. I’m starting to feel helpless without it.
Raising my eyes to where Evie lay in the hospital bed, I study the machines next to her. I have no idea what the numbers on the screen mean, but the rhythmic beeping calms my nerves. Walking over to her, I place a hand on her forehead. It’s dry and warm. For some reason, that makes me exhale in relief. Her hair looks brushed, and her sheets are sparkling clean.
I glance at Mom, giving her a weak smile. She’s staring unseeing at the bed, her eyes unfocused, lost in her thoughts.
For the first time in my life, I feel sorry for her. Olivia Van Dorf is always composed, always elegant, and in control. This woman sitting in the plush chair is anything but. She’s a woman worried sick over her children, over the future. A woman whose world’s crumbling around her.
I turned to her. “Mom?” Her tired eyes find mine. “Why don’t you go home? Have some rest?”
She’s shaking her head before I even finish the sentence. “I’d like to stay here. At least until she’s awake.”
I look helplessly at Felix, who shakes his head, his eyes weary and resigned. Alec inclines his head, silently asking me to go over to them.
“We have to go talk to your father,” he says when I reach him. “Evie is safe here, and Felix will keep us updated. We’ll come straight back if anything changes.”
I look at my sister, my heart squeezing painfully at the thought of leaving her. But Alec’s right. We need to talk to my father and find out exactly what’s going on.
I look out the window and into the city I love, my head pounding as I stare at the devastation we drive by. Stores have boarded their windows, residential buildings have reinforced their entrances. Trash blows in the wind, and broken glass litters the streets. Graffiti covers building walls, some of them works of art, exposing the ugly underbelly of the city with its corruption, discrimination, and inequality; others are just words hastily sprayed on uneven surfaces, the paint dripping from the letters, distorting them: media pigs, kill the media, make them pay, fight…
I close my eyes, feeling them burn behind my lids. I’m not a religious man by any means, but at that moment, seeing how the city I love is destroying itself from within, I send a prayer into the universe and hope someone is out there to hear it.
When we arrive at the main office of Van Dorf Media Group, it’s past midnight. Despite the late hour, the office is alive with activity. We walk past the newsroom, where people are typing on keyboards with phones glued to their ear, screens and computer monitors tuned to every possible news channel and social media outlet. The constant chaos in the newsroom’s something I’ve always loved. It brings me a strange sense of calm as I watch everyone doing their job in a fast-paced environment that seems entirely unorganized, but in fact is held together by invisible set of rules.
As we walk past, a few people wave at me, and I wave back, wishing I had time to stop and chat as I usually do or even help if someone’s pressed for time. But I can’t. Not tonight.
When we finally reach my father’s office, I’m surprised to find David’s desk empty. I can’t remember ever coming here and not finding him sitting at his desk, no matter the time of day or night. Two security guards stand in front of the door, both of them greeting Alec respectfully when we approach.
Inside, my father’s leaning over the back of a chair, studying something on the screen of a laptop. The person sitting in the chair is partially obscured from view, but I’m pretty sure I can see familiar dark curls sticking in all directions.
David’s leaning against the desk, also looking at the laptop screen, and a young woman I don’t know is sitting across from them, a laptop in her lap.
“Zachary,” David says when we walk in, his tone as measured and calm as ever.
My father turns sharply to face us. “Zach. Alec.” He’s trying to keep his voice level, but I can see the worry in his eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sure you were briefed on our condition,” I say tersely. Alec takes a step closer to me, offering quiet support.