Chapter 24: Threats in the Dark

Rayna's POV

I was just starting to drift off, warm and safe in Denzel's arms, when my phone rang.

Loudly. Insistently.

"Ignore it," Denzel murmured, his arms tightening around me.

But something made me check the screen.

Oliver.

At 2 AM.

My stomach dropped.

"I have to take this," I said, pulling away from Denzel.

"Amelia…"

I answered. "Oliver? What's wrong?"

"Ray..." His voice was weak. Pained. "Ray, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Oliver, what happened? Where are you?"

"Hospital. St. Mary's. They….." He coughed, and I heard him groan. "They beat me up pretty bad, Ray. I need you."

My blood ran cold. "Who beat you up? What happened?"

"Just come. Please. I'm scared."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, my hands shaking.

"Amelia?" Denzel sat up, instantly alert. "What's wrong?"

"It's Oliver. He's in the hospital. Someone beat him up." I was already scrambling out of bed, looking for my clothes. "I have to go. I have to…."

"Hey." Denzel caught my hands, stilling me. "Breathe. We'll go together. Just get dressed. I'll drive."

"You don't have to….."

"Yes, I do. You're not doing this alone."

And somehow, even in the middle of a crisis, those words made me feel less alone than I'd felt in a long time.

Rayna's POV

The drive to the hospital was tense and silent.

Denzel drove like a man possessed, weaving through the empty streets at speeds that should have terrified me. But all I could think about was Oliver's voice on the phone. Weak. Scared. Hurt.

I kept replaying it over and over.

"They beat me up pretty bad, Ray. I need you."

Who was "they"? What had Oliver gotten himself into this time?

I was vaguely aware of still being able to feel Denzel inside me. The soreness between my legs. The way my body still hummed from what we'd done.

We'd had sex. I'd lost my virginity to him. And then, not even thirty minutes later, everything had gone to hell.

I glanced at Denzel. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He hadn't said a word since we'd gotten in the car. Hadn't tried to comfort me or tell me everything would be okay.

He just drove.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For coming with me. You didn't have to…."

"Yes, I did," he said, his voice clipped. "He's your brother."

And you're... what? I wanted to ask. What are we now? What does tonight mean?

But I couldn't. Not now. Not when Oliver was lying in a hospital bed, beaten and scared.

We pulled up to St. Mary's Hospital fifteen minutes later. I was out of the car before Denzel had even fully stopped, running through the automatic doors to the ER reception desk.

"Oliver James," I said breathlessly to the nurse. "My brother. He called me, said he was here, that he'd been…"

"Room 4 in the ER," the nurse said, checking her computer. "But you'll need to…."

I didn't wait for her to finish. I ran down the hallway, Denzel's footsteps close behind me.

Room 4.

I pushed open the door and stopped dead.

Oliver lay in the hospital bed, and he looked... God, he looked terrible.

His left eye was swollen completely shut, purple and black. His lip was split and bleeding. There were bruises all over his face, his neck, his arms. His right hand was wrapped in bandages.

"Oh my God," I breathed, rushing to his side. "Oliver. Oliver, what happened?"

He tried to smile but winced. "Hey, Ray. Sorry for... for calling so late."

"Don't apologize. Don't you dare apologize." I took his uninjured hand carefully. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know."

I blinked. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"They were wearing masks. Ski masks. Three of them. They jumped me when I was walking back to my dorm from the library." His voice was hoarse, like it hurt to talk. "They dragged me into an alley and just... they beat me. Kept hitting me even when I was down."

My hands were shaking. "Did they take anything? Your wallet? Your phone?"

"No. That's the weird part. They didn't rob me. They just beat me up and then..." He swallowed hard. "One of them leaned down and said, 'This is a warning. Stop digging or next time will be worse.'"

"Stop digging?" Denzel spoke up from behind me. "Digging into what?"

Oliver's eyes widened when he saw Denzel. "Mr. Adams. I didn't know you were….."

"What have you been looking into, Oliver?" Denzel's voice was calm but firm.

"Nothing! I swear, I don't know what they're talking about. I'm just a college student. I go to class, I study, I…" He stopped, his face going pale. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" I pressed.

"The gambling thing. From before. Maybe they're connected to those guys? Maybe they think I still owe money or…"

His phone, sitting on the bedside table, buzzed.

We all looked at it.

Oliver reached for it with his good hand, but Denzel was faster.

"May I?" he asked.

Oliver nodded.

Denzel looked at the screen, and his expression darkened.

"What is it?" I asked.

He turned the phone so I could see.

A text from an unknown number:

We warned you. This was just the beginning. Stop asking questions or your sister is next.

The blood drained from my face.

"Your sister is next," I repeated, my voice hollow. "They're threatening me?"

"Give me the phone," Denzel said to Oliver. "I'm calling my head of security. We're getting to the bottom of this."

"But I don't understand," Oliver said, his voice rising with panic. "I'm not asking questions about anything! I don't know what they want!"

Another buzz.

Another text.

Tell your brother-in-law to watch his back too. The Adams empire isn't as untouchable as he thinks.

Denzel's expression went ice-cold.

"This isn't about you," he said to Oliver. "This is about me."

"What?" I stood up. "What are you talking about?"

"Someone's using your brother to get to me. To threaten you. To send a message." His jaw clenched. "This is business. Corporate espionage. A competitor trying to…."

"A competitor did this?" I gestured at Oliver's battered face. "What kind of business are you in where people get beaten half to death as a warning?"

"The kind where billions of dollars are at stake," Denzel said grimly. "The kind where people will do anything to gain an advantage."

I felt sick. "So this is my fault. Because I married you, my brother is now a target?"

"This is not your fault. This is whoever did this. And I'm going to find them."

A doctor entered the room, clipboard in hand. "Mr. James? I'm Dr. Patel. I've reviewed your scans and X-rays. You have two cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, and significant bruising. You're lucky, if they'd hit you any harder, we'd be looking at internal bleeding or worse."

"When can I leave?" Oliver asked.

"We'd like to keep you overnight for observation. Make sure there are no complications." Dr. Patel looked at me. "Are you family?"

"I'm his sister."

"Good. He shouldn't be alone right now. Head injuries can be tricky, and we want to monitor him for any signs of concussion."

She left, and silence fell over the room.

Oliver's phone buzzed again.

Another text.

72 hours. That's all you have. Stop digging or everyone you love pays the price.

What!!