It’s early in the morning when the Parker’s private jet lands on the airport. Mark’s usual smile is gone. Rebecca is awfully quiet. They haven’t spoken for the entire trip. They walk to the car parked right outside, Mark opens the door for her, gets in and starts the car.

“Did you read Zach’s text?” Mark asks.

“Yes. I don’t think he should head to Brussels, but his mind is set. There’s no convincing him of otherwise.”

“It’s best if they are together. Zach can calm Vero and Vero can anchor Zach.”

“Abigail used to calm Vero and anchor Zach.”

“Rebecca-”

“When is the meeting with Thomas?” Rebecca asks.

“It’s not a meeting. Don’t call it that,” Mark’s tone is calm.

“I’ll call it whatever the hell I want. When is it?” She turns on her phone, it blows up with notifications.

“Nine.” He checks the mirrors and begins driving.

“Four hours. Good. Then we’ll be done with that nonsense,” she looks to the side, the city’s light.

“Rebecca…please call down, let me talk to them.”

“Absolutely, my dear,” she taps her fingers on the dashboard, “you’ll do the talking, trust me I have nothing, nothing pleasant at least, to say to him.”

“It’s not his fault,” his voice breaks, “that Abigail was taken. They took Emily too. We should… be there for each other.”

“Damn it, Mark,” she kicks the car’s carpet, “I know… I know, that Rachel Moore and the Angel of Death and their ridiculous army are the ones responsible here!” she shouts.

“I know you do,” he lowers his voice.

“They,” she sniffles, “they abducted our baby-”

“Rebecca…” he reaches with his right hand for her but she flinches instead.

“But Thomas…” she laughs, “he’s always so pleased to parade his connections to the government, the president. And now,” she laughs loudly, “now he wants to meet because he has ‘a solution that you can trust’”, she imitates Thomas’ voice, “’I’ve spoken with the president myself’”, she laughs again, “and I know, that it’s nothing but a waste of time. We, my love, we,” she swallows her saliva, “we have the resources to bring them home and instead what?” she scoffs, “instead we’ll wait for Thomas’ solution. This is a waste of time. Time Abigail might not have!” she shouts, “How can you not see that, Mark?!” Her voice breaks and tears stream down her eyes.

“What…” his voice breaks too, “what should do then, Rebecca? What?!” he shouts and immediately clears his throat and continues with a softer voice, “how should we bring her home?”

“We should start by hiring competent people to find them, competent people to deal with the terrorists. We have the right connections for it,” she says in a mellow tone.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Negotiators… or killers? Which one?” Mark faces her and she looks away.

“The ones who get it done, Mark,” she smacks her lips.

“You aren’t thinking straight. Emotions are running too high-”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Rebecca shouts.

“I will say it because it’s true. We have Veronica and Zach to think about, we have Abigail’s sake to think about-”

“I am thinking about her! How can you remain so damn calm?!” she shouts, and he tries not to steer the wheel.

“This is what terrorist want, an emotional response. Remaining calm, seeing the possibilities. Now, I’m all in favor, trust me, love, to just go there and kill them all if necessary to bring our girl home. But what if she gets hurt in the process? Would you live with that guilt, because, damn, Rebecca, I’d kill myself if my actions led to her being hurt.”

“And I’d kill myself if my inactions led to the same thing.”

“But we wouldn’t, would we? We wouldn’t leave Zach and Vero, we would find a way to exist for them even if Abs was gone. I agree that we have to do everything in our power to bring her back, I just can’t see eye to eye to you, my dear, in how.”

“And how are we supposed to move past this… point, Mark, if we can’t see eye to eye?”

They remain silent for the rest of the ride, get home, each take a shower on different bathrooms, get dressed, have a coffee on separate rooms and wait. Coming only closer to each other when Katryn opens the door and welcomes Thomas and Mary into their living room.

Thomas can’t get over what Edward told him. That he shouldn’t be worried because the Council is doing everything they can to bring back Emily. That they have a plan to destroy the terrorist group. That videos will circulate in the meantime of Emily’s abduction, she’ll be shown in misery, but that’s all fake.

Mary’s usual high-pitched voice is now lower than ever, she’s wearing all black, including sunglasses. Thomas designers’ suits are the normal, sober self, but his eyes show a sadness that the Parkers had never seen before. They are broken. Katryn prepares them breakfast, that they say they haven’t had yet, and Mary eats slowly a bit of toast before pushing the plate.

“I have spoken with the president, she guaranteed me that every effort is being made to bring them home. We also know that despite all their violence, Rachel Moore would never-” Thomas begins to say.

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Mary puts down her cup of tea making a cracking sound, “I’m sorry, Rebecca…”

Rebecca reaches for Mary’s hand, and they come closer to each other. Mary leans in on her shoulder.

“Honey, it’s true. Rachel Moore can be a lot of things, but she isn’t stupid-” Thomas says in a whisper like tone.

“Isn’t stupid…” Rebecca holds Mary’s hands tighter.

“She wants the leverage of having them. What would hurting… killing, bring to the table?” Thomas says, immediately recalling that in a few days the videos would show something entirely different.

“Our best chance is to trust the goodness of the heart of a terrorist, Thomas?” Mark gets up and goes closer to the wide window, looking over the swimming pool, seeing his children run by and laughing when they were kids, teasing one another as teenagers, Veronica splashing Zach and Abigail defending him.

“The president asked us to record a video, pleading to them. If you want to-”

“Just say when,” Mark ends the conversation.

***

It’s six in the morning when Rachel wakes up, she’s the only one in the house that doesn’t have a hangover, she’s sure. The last survivors of the party only went to bed, or as she’s seeing now, to the couch, a few hours before she got up to work out.

Abigail is passed out and Rachel notices that she’s shivering. She brings a few blankets and some more pillows to make her comfortable and eats her breakfast trying to not make any sudden movements or noise.

The words of Jade Harris keep echoing through her mind. She kept them at bay for a bit during her workout, but now they are back. Her hands curl into a fist, she bites her lip. How can anyone compare me to that monster? If Matthew had the power of death, he would’ve… killed everyone that crossed his path. How can anyone say that I’m just like him? Would everyone cheer my death like they did with his?