Celeste;
Rhythmic beeping echoes in the room at equal intervals, ringing in my head as I fight to figure out what happened. Where am I? What's going on?
Panic seizes my chest in a grip so firm that I can't reach out to clutch it.
Is it happening all over again? Am I losing them all over again?
Liquid terror slices through my veins as I'm thrown into the whirlpool of my trauma…reliving everything as it was ten years ago.
Yes. I'm losing them all over again!
Should I scream? Will I see Mommy's lifeless eyes again if I do?
Will there be a hole in Daddy's head if I do?
It's happening all over again…my sanity slipping even as I try to hold on to it tightly.
I don't want to go back there. No, I don't want to go back again!
Faint whispers go on in the background, and I cling to that—to the voices—as I drag myself out with every ounce of willpower.
I can't catch what they're saying, but the voices sound familiar.
I can make out Greg's voice. "You know that was risky, and now we might have them on our tail."
He sounds pissed.
"I do, but I was left with no other choice." That sounds like Angelo.
"She would have found a way. She always does."
Silence clamors, and I panic, plunging back down into my customized hell, only me hearing the voices in my head.
"I'm sorry," Angelo gives in. I've known him enough to read every cadence in his tone…he's not the least bit sorry.
And as if Matt knows that, his heavy sigh punctures the air.
"This better not happen again." Greg's order is resolute.
My eyelids flutter, and a sharp sting makes my eyes burn from the influx of light that seeps through the slight slit.
"It won—"
I throw them shut immediately as a hiss escapes my mouth, halting Angelo's submissive response to Greg.
I feel all eyes on me before their footsteps pad against the floor to get to me.
They crowd me in seconds.
Greg's knitted brows greet my sight. "You said there's something you need to tell me?"
"How do you feel?" Angelo butts in, sounding urgent, with worried lines across his features.
I see Greg's throat bob, his eyes averting as he steps back for Matt to lean forward, pressing a stethoscope to my chest.
He's quiet for a while and looks concentrated. "How do you feel?" His gaze cuts to my squinted ones.
"Numb," I manage to mumble. My head is all over the place and empty at the same time.
He reaches his gloved fingers to my face, bracketing my left eye and stretching it wide. A light shines in my irises, and I follow the rays.
He does the same for my right, too, before pulling away.
"She needs enough rest," he turns to Greg. "As much as possible. Thankfully the bullet hadn't hit a vital nerve… or else." He lets the threat linger.
But we all know what his tongue withholds.
Only then do I feel the pain of my ripped flesh.
I would have been useless to the organization.
The thought sends a rush of panic skittering down my spine.
Greg nods, arms folded, making the muscles in his biceps bulge through his sleeves, features furrowed. He tells Matt, "Thanks," then looks at me.
"I'm sorry for earlier," he admits softly.
Igniting a flurry of unwanted emotions warming my chest.
"It's fine," I croak. "It's indeed the most important thing right now. It can't wait for later."
I try to sit upright, but a dizziness so strong slams into me. Everything blackens, and I see stars.
Angelo is at my side in seconds. "Relax, Poppy." With a hand on my uninjured arm, he lays me back down.
I've taken worse. This should be nothing. This is nothing!
I take a minute to gather myself… and the men wait. Patiently.
"Right," I begin. "We need to infiltrate the Giordano's mansion…permanently." My gaze flicks through their confused ones.
Greg is silent in opposition.
Angelo speaks, "So what you're saying is—"
"Yes," I bob my head carefully. "If we want to take them out, we have to do that from inside." My voice gains fervor.
The guys are silent, seemingly trying to process and give thought to what I've just said.
Angelo is a complete reflection of his thoughts… his hairline is propped forward, and his brows almost connect as he guzzles his thoughts.
While Greg is neutral, the only indication that he's also pondering is the slight dent in his cheeks as he grits his teeth.
As for Matt, he's seated on a stool, mainly watching like a non-playing character.
"No." Greg's blunt refusal makes my breath pause.
Blinking furiously while trying to fathom why he'll outright refuse, I insist, "That's the only way to get this over with, Greg."
He looks at me. "This is a bad idea. You're only initiating this because of your thirst for revenge," he points out.
The truth has never been so bitter.
"But still," I tell him. I don't know how to convince him.
"Greg's right, Poppy. This shit's risky. The Giordano's are not to be trifled with; you witnessed it last night." Angelo intercedes, pointing out in all directions how dangerous the plan is.
We might not even make it.
"The plan was just to get the vault and get out," Matt finally says. His input is an intended mention of our disobedience to Greg's order.
Angelo shoots him a glare that he ignores.
"Executing this plan is like going on a suicide mission. Especially now that they might be on our tail," Greg's gaze angles to all of us. "The Giordano's don't let things slide."
As ominous as that sounds, it's a fact.
Whoever crosses their path ends up being deleted from the face of the earth.
With no trace at all.
It's a good thing I have no trace to begin with.
I tell Greg, getting his attention. "Then waiting for them to come get us is suicide as well. We need a counterplan. It's now or never."
"Poppy…" Angelo drawls my name in a concerned warning.
"I'll think about it," Greg interrupts him with finality. "Just focus on recovering and don't do anything stupid."
Unfortunately…doing stupid things is my guilty pleasure.