What about Angus? After chapter 2
Angus looked up at the misty glass wishing he could see the world beyond. The room surrounding him was dark and small, but soft. He didn't know how long he had been couped up there, isolated from human contact. It felt like weeks, but it had probably only been a few days. Drops of bluish green rain streaked down the small, foggy window pane and Angus deduced that it must already be late afternoon, for the lack of light. As he inhaled deeply, the thick obtrusive scent of mold and old, pent-up moisture struck his nose, enticing him to take more shallow spurts of breath to avoid pneumonia.
How much longer would he be trapped in this stormy prison? He struggled to sit up, gently cradling his bruised arms. The rumbling sounds of unstable thunder and the steady wash of pouring rain made him long for California's open, sunny air. His thoughts turned to the Benedicts and Mirielle's ruined birthday party. Guilt and regret his constant companions, Angus closed his eyes against the swelling pain in his chest. His eyes stung, and the solitude of the dark, cool room made him forget for the moment that grown men do not cry.
Where was his enemy now? Gloating over his explosive victory? Lying in wait for Angus's expected return? He fingered the tiny silver phone strapped to his ankle. His goddaughter was one button-push away. The tempting thought of her angelic voice welcomed him to call her. But the consequences of that action still brewed in the forefront of his mind. He did not need more haunting regrets. What if he only called her for a moment, just to ensure that she is safe and content? What would be the harm in one very short phone call? Nobody knew about her new "spy phone," as she called it. No one would be tracing the call. Angus's attention was confiscated by the familiar sound of music permeating the paper-thin walls of his cell. The sweet hypnotic melody set his mind at ease and he sank into the soft, thick blankets all around him, drifting off to sleep.
How much longer would he be trapped in this stormy prison? He struggled to sit up, gently cradling his bruised arms. The rumbling sounds of unstable thunder and the steady wash of pouring rain made him long for California's open, sunny air. His thoughts turned to the Benedicts and Mirielle's ruined birthday party. Guilt and regret his constant companions, Angus closed his eyes against the swelling pain in his chest. His eyes stung, and the solitude of the dark, cool room made him forget for the moment that grown men do not cry.
Where was his enemy now? Gloating over his explosive victory? Lying in wait for Angus's expected return? He fingered the tiny silver phone strapped to his ankle. His goddaughter was one button-push away. The tempting thought of her angelic voice welcomed him to call her. But the consequences of that action still brewed in the forefront of his mind. He did not need more haunting regrets. What if he only called her for a moment, just to ensure that she is safe and content? What would be the harm in one very short phone call? Nobody knew about her new "spy phone," as she called it. No one would be tracing the call. Angus's attention was confiscated by the familiar sound of music permeating the paper-thin walls of his cell. The sweet hypnotic melody set his mind at ease and he sank into the soft, thick blankets all around him, drifting off to sleep.