Page 101 of Ezra
I’m shocked. I never expected Dad to go this far or to talk this way. Where is this coming from? My mom looks just as astonished, but pleased, which is more than I can say for Dad’s reps, who are desperately checking their tablets and whispering to each other in reserved panic. Dad is definitely off-script from what they were expecting for their big social media push tonight.
I glance over at Ezra, seeing his attention snap to my father in bewilderment while Deion, similarly surprised, smiles and gently pats his shoulder. Ezra’s gaze meets mine. I can see he’s at a loss, not sure what to make for this unexpected recognition.
I can only offer a puzzled smile of my own, so he knows I have nothing to do with this. I wish I knew what to say, how to react.
My dad is acknowledging—thanking—Ezra. In front of an entire ballroom filled with people. In front of cameras.
In front of the world.
I scan the room. There are some murmurs from people who seem just as surprised as I am. Nicholas Kane whispers softly with his wife. A human couple stands from their seats and leave the room. A few others follow, but the majority remains.
Dad, what are you doing?
“I have come to believe we can work with others to make New Carnegie a better place to live and work, starting by assisting those who need our help the most,” Dad continues. “We appreciate your generous donations for the families of the victims of the New Carnegie Natural History Museum attack. This will not replace the people who lost their lives or fill the voids they leave behind. But if we can offer even a smallmeasure of reprieve, then that’s what we’ll do. Tonight, let there be no argument between men and machines. Let there only be compassion. Loving others is the ultimate measurement of what it means to be human. Without it, it doesn’t matter if we’re steel and synthetic or flesh and blood. Without love, we’re nothing.”
Someone, somewhere, begins to clap. Then more join in.
I watch in awe as people rise from their chairs throughout the ballroom. They’re all on their feet, applauding Dad. Even Oliver and Sophie take part.
Dad doesn’t soak in their praise for a moment longer than he needs to. He motions for everyone to sit. “We have a wonderful supper planned for you tonight. Thank you again for joining us at this event. And may we bring about the change needed to restore this city to what it was before—a haven for the worker and his family.”
There’s movement behind the kitchen doors. Food will be brought to us soon, and I’m famished. Servers come out in pairs, some of them carrying oversized platters. Plates of sizzling wagyu filets and Parmesan herb broccolini, and bowls of pumpkin soup are placed in front of us. Water, wine, and champagne is refilled. We settle in and prepare to eat.
Dad is heading back to his table. I have so much I want to say. I underestimated him. I’ve been so fixated on Ezra and our blooming relationship that I never considered Dad might be growing as a person too instead of stubbornly remaining stagnant.
Maybe meeting the bionic he designed—the man he dreamed on paper and brought to life—had something to do with it. Dad takes Mom’s gloved hand and kisses it. She glows.
I glance to my left as a platter-bearing server skirts in the way of another server heading back to the kitchen with an empty pitcher. Just when I expect them to collide or weave around eachother, they drop what they’re carrying with a loud crash. One of them reaches for Dad, pulling a gun from his pocket.
“Dad!” I cry out, leaping to my feet, but someone seizes me at the same time as gunfire erupts into the ceiling, shattering a chandelier and sending glass shards cascading down on the guests.
“Drop your weapons!” a man barks at the security detail advancing on us.
A gun is shoved up beneath my jaw while shouts and cries of dismay erupt throughout the Loft.
People panic in an instant, either freezing, falling into their chairs, or scrambling to duck for cover. A few try to run. Nicholas Kane is on his feet, positioning himself between the gunmen and Sophie. Oliver is similarly standing with his fists clenched, his face twisted in fury. I desperately look for Ezra.
“Don’t move!” A third waiter points his gun and fires at a man trying to flee, shooting him in the leg. The man falls and grips his bleeding calf while his wife screams. “Donotmove!”
Ezra has his own weapon trained on the gunman holding me, a silent snarl etched across his face. I’ve never seen Ezra truly angry,but it emanates from him, from his feet to his shoulders. His white eyes blaze with fury.
“Back up, tin can,” growls the man holding me, and it hurts when he pushes the barrel of the weapon against my jaw. I have to stand on my tiptoes to get some relief from its cold bite.
I’m terrified, more than I’ve ever felt. More than the bombings. I’m on the precipice of panic. I manage to form one word after the other. “Ezra, please.” I try to keep my voice calm, but it’s quaking. “It’s okay. Please.”
Setting his jaw, Ezra drops his weapon and steps back. Two more servers join the gunmen from a nearby bathroom, but they’re wearing custom black pullover masks. One has a rifle of some kind. They grab one person each—one of Ben Flagler’sentourage, a pretty young socialite with golden hair who’s already crying in fright, mascara streaming down her face, and Mr. D’Angelo, one of New Carnegie’s wealthiest businessmen.
The security guards are armed with tasers and nothing else. They quickly drop their weapons and hold their hands up. Deion and the other members of the ACU reluctantly do the same. They won’t risk trying to take the gunmen down, not when this has turned into a hostage situation.
Dad’s chest heaves. He’s scared too. “Remain calm. Please stay where you are.” He tries to catch a glimpse of the man holding a gun to his head. “Whatever you want with me, I’ll go quietly. Let everyone else go?—”
The man pistol whips him. “Shut up. Move.”
My heart jumps into my throat.
The man and my dad inch toward the kitchen door, where most of the kitchen staff watches helplessly with their hands up.
My captor shoves me after him. “Go.”
