Eighteen Again: The CEO's Wife Was A Delinquent

Irish frowns at Adrian. 

"You'd want to come with us, as well," she said rather than asked.

"I won't deny that. But there are still things I need to do," he muttered with a low, soft tone.

"Like what? You've done your part, Adrian. You should—"

"I haven't done enough, Irish. You should go. I take that Grisham Donovan was apprehended?"

Adrian turns then, not wanting to argue anymore.

He took a moment to recall what happened back at the pier. There was the smell of burning wood, but Anthony was there - as reliable as always, he sheltered him, carried him away.

Below, he heard Irish crying out while Grisham kept hollering in anger. Then came Bryan's uproarious arrival. Just in time. Adrian wondered how their voices were still so distinct - still not melting together into three, not blending together into one unified, cacophonous sound.

Then, he realized why - Irish was furious, Bryan was calling her, and Grisham was cackling loudly as though there was something to laugh about in that situation.

Adrian was carried away. He found himself enveloped in Anthony's embrace.

The dizziness had faded soon enough. He was checking him for wounds, and he was saying something. Adrian could see but could not hear - the explosion had been deafening. 

"They're coming, I hope."

Anthony's voice filtered in, somewhat melodic even with the bits of panic filtered in - the bits of concern and of anger. Adrian wondered why he seemed so infuriated. 

"You should be more careful next time. Don't you think for one minute that you're infallible, young man."

Now, he knew.

It's that sort of anger - one that came from worry, from fear. The fear of losing.

He wondered why Anthony would feel that way - he is nothing valuable at all. He is just a boy, and he bears the weight of so many sins - he is invaluable, he is nothing.

But he does not voice any of this aloud. Instead, he took the brunt of Anthony's words with a grain of salt - filtered them through his mind and stored them for later. There were other things to attend to.

"Don't let him get away!"

Adrian makes out Irish's voice. Everyone else was jumping to and fro - in and out of the fire and of the building. They must have lost Grisham. The explosion must have been a means of escape.

Time is lost to Adrian, then.

He stood to help - to direct, but Anthony pulled him down harshly. Suddenly, Irish and Bryan were gone. There were loud shouts of panic and the sound of something falling over. 

Footsteps. Hard and fast. Boots against gravel.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear sirens. The people at the port must have called the police.

"What happened?"

Adrian looked up, expecting to see the chief of police. Yet under the moonlight and the in the firelight, he saw Ray instead - expression harsh, concerned, ready.

"You got here fast," Bryan chimed in, making their way to them.

"I drove fast. Got out of the hospital as soon as your SOS signal came," Ray explained solemnly.

"What about Dr. Gilmore?" 

"He let me go. Gotta finish my job."

That conversation was the last Adrian could remember.

He snapped out his flasback - the memory fading away. That's when his mind focused back to what's happening at the moment. 

"Grandfather seems safe enough..." Edward was saying, and Adrian realized he had lost track of where he was.

"And Dylan Eleanor?"

"Safe enough, too."

He gestured towards the police car where Dylan remained bound and passive. He appears to have been drugged - given a sedative. That will keep him in check.

"I want to have them both transported to the safehouse," Adrian continued, making Edward furrow his brows.

"And why's that?"

"I want to host a meeting."

"Adrian-"

"Anyway, I think we're done here. Irish, you go to the hospital with Anthony and Bryan. Edward and I will meet you there as soon as possible."

Edward sighs before nodding. This takes all of them by surprise, including Adrian.

"Best to do as he says. I take it he still has something to do here. The others will need you three at the hospital," Edward said. 

"I don't approve of this," Irish groused, frowning.

"I know you don't..." Adrian said softly, managing a small smile.

"But you don't get to have a say."

She looks at him, and suddenly, they're squaring off - her gaze unwavering, his impenetrable. She may be older than him, but he can boss her around whenever he wants to. It's her choice to listen or not.

She turns on her heel - decisively as if she had been the one to settle the matter.

"Let's go..." she told the others before she turned back around to look at him again. 

"I better see you in the hospital in half an hour, Adrian."

He smiles. She nods at him.

With that, Irish and the others turn to make their leave. Anthony's gaze lingers on him for a moment while she spares one last look at him then reaches out her hand to Edward - palm wide open. 

"Keys," she demanded to which he rolled his eyes.

"And let you steal my car again? No way."

"Well, how am I supposed to do what our brother wants us to? Can't go to a hospital without a car. Unless you want to drive us."

"Ughh... Women."

Edward let out an exasperated sigh, handing over the keys to her. Irish grinned - catlike and triumphant.

"Come on, gentlemen..." she said before her tone turned worrisome.

"Let's go see how Cassidy is doing."

As Irish, Anthony and Bryan disappear back into the car, Edward walk closer to Adrian.

He observed his elder brother - burned clothes, some deep cuts hastily bandaged, a little worse for wear, but fine nonetheless. Edward noticed his keen gaze and gave him a reassuring smile - they're almost like mirrors, soot staining white cloths, blue eyes dancing with mirth and fatigue.

"So, what did you want to do?" Edward asked. 

Adrian turns to the direction of police car - to the direction he'd been looking at before Irish and the others came, and he looks at Dylan. 

"Permission."