Lose Control (The Jewel Project #5)

11.2||Consequences

Angie had never felt more numb in her life. The moment Gabe had delivered the crushing blow, it was like her world spiraled into a black void, the light drained from everything.

There was only one thing she could focus on. Getting home. That small, administrative step she had to take before her world would come crashing down. Because she knew there was danger. She'd known from the moment she'd taken Phillip's offer to escape the nastier side of the Agency.

Ever since, even if she believed it was totally worth it, she'd lived in the fear of discovery. What would happen if the Agency found out she was working for someone else as well? What would happen if Snitch Gravel would track down Phillip and make him pay for his betrayal, taking everyone who worked for him along?

All the what ifs spun inside her head as she made her way home. By the time she got there, she couldn't even tell what day it was anymore, how late she was. It didn't matter. She'd never had hope.

From the moment Gabe had said he'd called the authorities, but no one came, she knew. Knew that she would be flying back to witness the horror. To bury her family. And she also knew it was all because of her choices in life.

Her house was in ruins, yellow police tape surrounding the reminder of the walls to keep people away. She was almost certain that no police had set foot there and the yellow band of death was there just for her, to make sure she came back to the full effects of what had happened. Let her gather up her mess, not someone else.

She stepped under it, the low light of morning or dusk keeping her company. She couldn't be bothered to check her watch, check the time... Check anything. There would be time for that after. After she gauged the damage, after she grieved.

The damage was total. Everything was charred, the upper floor fallen in the middle of the living room. The roof had caved in from the fire and everything was black. The skeleton of the staircase still half-hung on the wall and dusty frames littered the steps. Pictures of her family, of her.

Angie didn't want to do it, she could hardly see through the tears anyway, but she started scanning the floor. Her stomach was blissfully empty so it was much harder for vomit to break out. Her heart thumped so loudly, it made her head pound, her vision blur. She wished she'd just explode, join her family on the floor.

It was hard to tell what anything used to be, but it took her only a few minutes to identify what was left of her family. They'd apparently huddled together, unable to escape the house for some reason.

Died together just like they'd always lived. Except for her. Always the outsider, always the one who got away. She didn't want to get away, didn't want to be the one facing this, hovering above everyone else. But that was how it has always been, how she had been raised. She was better. And whatever happened, she could handle it because life went on. Her mother had always told her that she could face the misery. Because what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Angie didn't want to be stronger. She wanted to be dead. Her knees hit the ashes as sobs choked her. In a desperate attempt to keep her sane, her mind shut down, leaving her in blissful nothingness.

When she came to her senses again, she was lying on her front on the floor, her fingers digging into the ashes, her face feeling tight because of the salt covering it. She'd run out of tears, out of any chance at escape. Her body was starting to react, feeling hunger, thirst and weariness.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't lie there forever. Couldn't join her family in a place of eternal sunshine and no worries. She was left behind to clean up the mess, as usual. And even if it hurt like hell, she had to make sure everyone was accounted for, that she wouldn't be abandoning anyone on the streets of Tucson.