Текст книги "The Wanted"

Автор книги: Lauren Nicolle Taylor

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

JOSEPH

We arrived at the camp after walking half the night, Ermil managing to support his weight but still needing a crutch. We were dirty, happy, and different.

The early morning clink of metal cups and the pour of hot water reassured me, brought me home. We were purposefully loud as we entered the broken-up camp; people perched between the trees of the thickly wooded area. Everyone reacted, jumping up, grabbing weapons. When Gus faced us, he broke into a wide smile.

“I knew you’d make it,” he said, clapping his hands together. I couldn’t help but grin, his happiness rubbing off on me.

Pelo ran up and offered an arm to Ermil so he could ease himself down. A drink was offered as soon as his butt hit the ground. Pelo looked up at me and his eyes again slapped me with their likeness to Rosa’s. I shook it away, pressing her memory down and tucking it under other things.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said, standing up and bringing me into his arms. “I couldn’t lose you too.”

My arms were at my sides. I held my breath while he hugged me.

“I’m fine, Pelo,” I muttered, realizing I’d left him to deal with his grief alone because I’d been too busy with my own. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at him. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.” I connected with his eyes briefly and then looked away.

Pelo waved his hand, steam coming from his mouth as he spoke. “No matter, no matter. You’re safe, that’s the important thing.” He lifted a finger to the air. “That and the fact that our plans seem to be working marvelously.” I caught myself starting to roll my eyes and stopped.

Matt came up behind us and broke the tension, his voice anchored in pride. “You should have seen him performing surgery on the side of a hill by torchlight! It was very impressive.”

“I had help,” I muttered, pointing in Elise’s direction. I thought I caught a quick glare from Desh.

She smiled shyly and swept her short hair behind her ear. “It was mostly Joseph. I just held the torch.”

I shrugged. She did more than that.

Clapping startled us, very slow clapping coming from the outer edges of the camp.

“Hooray for the hero,” Rash exclaimed sarcastically.

I turned to face him. His eyebrows were pulled down; dark circles ran under his eyes like bruises.

“They never said…” I started.

“No, really you are,” Rash said, shaking his head and stepping towards me, getting closer than he had since the night we’d left the Superior’s compound. “You saved your own skin and left Rosa to rot. Now, look, you’ve played the hero, and you’ve got a new admirer. You can forget all about her now.”

“Rash…” Pelo sighed.

He took another step, reached out, and poked me in the chest accusingly. “Isn’t that right?” Each word was punctuated with a sharp tap to my heart.

I stared down at him. Tears pooled in his eyes. “No,” I said sternly.

He desperately wanted to hit me. I could feel his fists burning to connect.

Matt spoke. “You don’t know the whole story. Joseph did what he could, but she couldn’t be saved.”

Desh’s head snapped towards Matt, his expression baffled. I took the opportunity to move away from Rash, but he followed me. I turned back to him and growled. “Not now!”

Rash put his hands up and smirked at me infuriatingly.

I grabbed Desh’s arm and yanked him away from the camp, pulling him in between the thick trunks that barricaded us in like the black-clad legs of Woodlands’ soldiers.

When we were a safe distance from the others, I spun Desh to face me. The look in his eyes was one of complete confusion and a little bit of fear. He was scared of me. I forced myself to relax a little and took a calming breath.

I sighed. “I’m sorry I dragged you out of there, but there’s something you need to know.”

Desh raised his eyebrows and waited for me to go on. I breathed in heavily. “I let Matt think Rosa killed Este.” Desh’s eye’s widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “But before you say anything just understand, I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t have him look at me like I was a murderer. I know that’s what I am, I know I have to face it, but it’s hard. I wanted some time to deal with what I’d done before everyone knew.”

Desh’s face softened. “Joe.” My name sounded like a sad sigh when he said it. He reached out to touch my arm, and I jerked away. “I think we need to talk about this. You know it’s not your fault, right?”

I knew it was entirely my fault.

“Desh, please, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s too damn hard,” I pleaded.

He seemed anxious when he tried again to talk. “But I don’t think you understand…” I held my hand up to stop him. “I understand enough.”

I stomped away, leaving him standing there, bewildered. He wasn’t going to make me feel better about this, and I couldn’t reopen the wounds. I was finally managing to move forward, and he wanted to drag me back.

We packed up and left for Palma. To keep them guessing, we were zigzagging across the compounds, not hitting them in order. We hadn’t managed to sync with the fireworks at Radiata, but we would for Palma in five days.

Soldiers had poked around the bottom of the hill looking for us, but they hadn’t come very far before they were called back. It seemed Radiata had exploded with anger and riots. No Survivor could stay this time. It was too dangerous. We had to leave them to it.

We walked in a zigzag as well. The Survivors were very good at hiding and avoiding Woodlands’ soldiers.

I kicked a slice of shale rock down a grassy hillside, watching it skid across the other stones and disappear. Light snow covered any outcropping, but it wasn’t building up as fast as we would have thought. It was actually a shame in a way because it would have hid our tracks. Gus predicted it would thicken over the next few days.

“How’s the hand?” I asked Matt as we paused to get our bearings and rest. We were all on a high except for him. No one expected it to go this well. But then, no one really considered what would happen after. Matt was contemplative.

Matt bent his fingers slowly; two fingers didn’t move. He watched them like they weren’t his own.

“It’ll come back, Matt, give it time,” I said.

He smiled sadly. “How are your chest wounds?” he asked, peering at my shirt.

I tapped my chest lightly. “Itchy!” He laughed. I noticed several grey hairs running through the light brown.

“Itchy is good.”

Elise strolled over and took my water bottle from me, taking a swig without asking. I cleared my throat. She ignored me.

“Yep, means it’s healing.” She daintily dabbed at her mouth with her sleeve.

Rash sat on a rock, listening intently, and then his face cracked into a smile. “So, itchy good, oozy bad?”

Everyone laughed. Even me. I tried not to look at him for too long though, scared I would ruin the moment. Our relationship had always been precarious, but without Rosa here, it was dangling off a cliff.

I stuffed thoughts of her back behind others, focusing on the next mission and Orry.

Gus clapped his hands together and looked at the sky, as if it were a clock he could read. “It’s time to move.”

Elise floated from group to group. She was easy to talk to and managed conversations with everyone. She was confident to the point of being a little annoying, but most of the time I didn’t mind her company.

We were now one-day’s walk from Palma. The time passed quickly. A lot of walking, talking, and shooting animals. I was training my eyes to search out game. Everyone did it and when Gus caught something, there was a lot of celebration and the bonus of fresh food.

I was at the back of the group today, when I heard a rustle to my right. The forest was dense in this area, although where we stood almost qualified as a stamped-out road. I thought I saw a flash of blue feathers. I grabbed Elise’s arm and pulled her back while I kept an eye on the birds, three pheasants sitting between a couple of rotted, mossy logs.

“See the pheasants? Get Gus,” I whispered.

Nodding, she lithely picked her way up the line until she reached Gus. She whispered in his ear and pointed to me. I beckoned him with my finger.

I silently pointed out the bird’s positions, and Gus aimed his rifle. I watched him pull back the trigger and gulped, swallowing the nausea I felt at having a gun so close to me again.

A shot was fired and they flapped into the sky, a mess of feathers and noise as three birds rose unharmed into the air.

Gus never missed.

Ever.

Gus’s finger was frozen, curled around the trigger. He hadn’t taken a shot. “Scatter,” he said through his teeth.

A man’s voice slashed through the forest. “Did I hit it?”

“Now!” Gus said, his voice quiet but urgent.

I turned and searched for a hiding place. A hundred yards away was a thick-trunked tree with bushes sprouting around the base. I moved towards it, trying to put as much distance between the voices and me as I could. Everyone scattered, diving from the path as they were told. I saw Desh and Pelo dash towards a log and jump behind it. Olga floundered in the middle of the road, her head flicking from us to the direction of the noise until Matt appeared from behind a tree and dragged her from view. I exhaled in relief.

Luckily, the owners of the voices hadn’t noticed us yet. They were too focused on the pheasants and still shooting at the sky like idiots.

I got about halfway to the tree when I realized Elise was just standing there, gaping. I groaned, looked to the sky, and returned to her, keeping low. Another shot fired and she had the sense to duck down. I grabbed her arm and pulled her away, moving from shrub to tree trunk to shrub as the voices came closer.

I leaped into the bushes, wet leaves brushing my face and hands, pulling Elise inside and onto my lap. I pulled her closer as I heard clumsy footsteps breaking sticks and crunching leaves, things I had almost learned to control.

“Don’t move,” I whispered in her ear. She flinched. Her body was as stiff as a board, but shaking. Her hair brushed under my nose. She smelled clean, but a chemical clean, like shampoo and hair products, things I hadn’t seen or smelled in more than a year.

She shivered uncontrollably, her breath coming in and out in short, tight bursts.

“Calm down, you’re going to hyperventilate,” I warned. She nodded and tried to calm her breathing as the voices came closer.

Through the leaves, I could see black boots and black trousers with gold trim running down the sides. I held my breath and tried to silently shuffle backwards, bringing the shaking girl with me, until my back was pressed against the damp tree trunk. The boots seemed aimless, traipsing around and around in a circle until another shot was fired.

“Got it!” a man shouted gleefully. And then the boot moved away from us.

I let out a soft sigh. Elise was still shaking, her hands clamped together over a charm she wore around her neck.

We would have to stay there for a while, but the danger seemed to have passed for now.

“I think they’re gone,” I said, patting her arms with my hands awkwardly.

“I can’t, not again,” she stuttered.

“Huh?” I shook her arm and she jumped, the branches moving around us. “Elise, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

She relaxed her grip on the charm and sighed, relaxing her body against my chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “bad memories, you know?”

Yeah, I knew.

“Yeah…” It seemed like an invitation, like she wanted me to ask her what was wrong. I was vaguely curious, but also really uncomfortable with how close she was. The soldiers’ voices were softer; I could barely hear them anymore, just the occasional loud word. “What happened?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Oh you know, the usual, father murdered in front of you by soldiers because he’s a Spider, mother disowns you because she’s too scared to stay. Raised by strangers and constant, constant suspicion that you’re going to follow in his footsteps.”

I was impressed and saddened.

“Now that’s a story,” I whispered.

Her shoulder jiggled as she tried to suppress a nervous giggle. “I’m sure you have one too… Um… maybe you can tell it to me one day.”

“You don’t want to hear my story,” I replied, closing my eyes.

“If it made you the man you are today, then I certainly do,” she said, turning her head towards me.

She leaned closer, her big green eyes blinking shut as she closed the gap between our faces. I leaned away.

“Um… Elise, I…” I stammered, completely caught off guard.

She paused, a slight smile curling her lips.

“You’re not ready,” she stated, like she thought one day I would be. She turned away from me again, adjusting her position in my lap.

“I’ll never be ready for what you want, Elise. I’m in love with someone else,” I confessed. Someone who was lost to me, could be dead, could hate me for leaving.

Again, she giggled quietly. “Who said anything about love? I’m just looking for some fun, a distraction,” she said, in an almost aggressive tone.

I shook my head, though she couldn’t see me. “I can’t offer that either. The best I can do is friendship, all right?”

The leaves rustled again, but this time it was just the wind. She didn’t say anything for a long time.

“You’ll change your mind, but I can be your friend until then.” She was sure of herself. It reminded me of how I used to be, how convinced I was that Rosa loved me, even when she was constantly pushing me away. But I knew Elise was wrong about this one. I couldn’t change my mind about this.

The tip of a rifle poked into the bushes and I gasped, trying to put my body between the gun and Elise.

Gus’s gruff voice was a huge comfort. “You two coming out of there? Seems we’re going to have to be more vigilant from this point on.”

ROSA

What will be left of me when I get out of here?

I should say IF…

IF. The word hangs there like a rusty sign.

Other words hang in line behind it, like NEVER and BLOOD.

Trusting Denis could be a mistake. He was Grant’s son. And if he had anything of Grant in him, he might be desecrated on the inside, rotting charcoal lining his heart. But something whispered hoarsely against my ear, Trust him. Hope painted parts of him, even it was just the tips of his fingers, the edge of his nose. There was something there.

Denis cupped my elbow like a waiter holding a full bowl of soup, not wanting to spill what was left of me, as he accompanied me downstairs. Everything he said was a snatch, a snippet. Between cameras watching and listening, he fed me small lines, bite-sized morsels of information.

As he steered me towards the lift he spoke. “Focus on the background, not the action. I know you said you can’t not watch, that the noises are worse by themselves…” He whispered this over the top of my head, his eyes front. “So watch but don’t watch if you know what I mean. Pick a background image and count up the small details.”

I didn’t nod, but I listened. He had given me advice every morning for days, and it had worked some. Each time I returned to my room, I felt a little more broken and a little more sewn together. His other advice was to focus on the fact that he got away, that Joseph was somewhere out there, safe from Grant, from the Woodlands. I did that constantly, always, always, always.

The walk wasn’t long enough. I never had time to prepare myself.

“We’re here,” Denis announced, running his finger along the hood of one of the cars; the smudging noise was like streaks on a window. The privilege these machines represented was sickening.

I paused with my palm on the door. One, two, three. Just breathe. I muttered to the door, “Why are you helping me?”

Denis collapsed on the hood behind me, the red car springing up and down with his weight. “I’m not sure yet,” he said to his large, leather-clad feet.

The door opened and Mr. Hun grabbed my wrist without stepping into the light, gently pulling me inside. Fear murdered any thoughts about what Denis had just said. Now the exercise of not turning to vapor, to nothing, began. My energy had to be on keeping myself whole. At least on the outside.

Denis was waiting for me when I exited, sitting on the edge of a hood with his legs neatly crossed. His eyes were dark; he bowed his head, sorry at the sight of me. My legs had less wobble than three days ago but still, I struggled to stand and had to put my hand out to steady myself against the wall. Mr. Hun stepped out of the shadow of the door and looked up at Denis, who was suddenly standing by my side. “Tell your father we have made no progress, tell him…” Mr. Hun stroked his chin, white whiskers springing back under his fingers. I cringed. “Tell him I recommend termination or repurpose, though I don’t know what for.”

Denis’ grip tightened around my waist, his fingers pressing the emptiness of me, I was skin stretched over air.

“I’ll tell him, but you know my father. He doesn’t like to lose,” Denis said to the small, evil man.

Mr. Hun blinked up at Denis, who towered over him like a wavy weed. “Indeed,” he muttered and then stepped back into the dark room, the door swinging shut. I wondered if he ever went outside or if he spent his whole life in the dark doing dark things?

Before I could wonder too much, Denis was marching me back towards the elevator.

The word ‘termination’ slammed over my head like a dropped drawbridge. I stiffened, my legs locking. I turned up to him, begging with my eyes.

“Please. Take me outside,” I whispered, my lips trembling with hope. If I was going to die, I needed to be outside, one more time.

He shook his head as he took in my camisole and shredded skirt. “You’ll freeze to death.”

“I don’t care. Tell them it’s part of my torture. Please, I need to breathe real air.” I would beg if I had to.

He stood, statuesque, for the longest moment. His eyes on the ceiling as if he was counting nonexistent stars. Stars. Then he sighed deeply. “All right.”

We moved around the cars and out, out into the open. He steered me around the base of Grant’s house and into a garden, or more a frozen patch of grass surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges. The cold snapped at my skin, tiny shards of ice growing on the hairs of my arms. It felt so good. I breathed in and exhaled with the force of a hurricane. I savored every last particle. My bare feet dug into the grass. I cast my eyes up to the sky and took a mental picture, storing it with the others. The stars blinked down on me in sympathy. They were the same stars Orry slept under right now. The same stars Joseph was staring up at, wondering what had happened to me.

I wound my hand to the sky and tried to grab at them.

Denis coughed. “We have to go.”

Just one more breath.

I turned to him, his thick, spiky hair making his shadow look like a cactus. “Tell me something about yourself.”

He laughed, small, like a bird was caught in his throat. “I’m not good enough and I’m tired of trying.”

I wanted to laugh in his face. Did he expect pity from me? But then he moved closer to me and took my hand. “I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want anyone to live like this anymore.” He squeezed my hand and kept it there. “There are people I love who are lost to me too, Rosa.”

I gaped in response and continued to stare at the stars, not willing to give them up yet.

But too soon, he was pulling my hand and leading me back to the door. I wanted to ask him more questions but he was almost running, and he seemed uncomfortable already at what he had revealed.

We were silent in the elevator, silent as he walked me down the hall, deathly quiet until we passed my door and Denis put his hand on a handle that was not mine. He looked at me, pleading in his eyes, and said four words, “Give her a chance,” and then he pushed open the door.

My eyes were assaulted by colors, by the rainbow that had seemingly thrown up on every surface of the room. Two single beds sat in the center and cross-legged on the tip of one sat Judith.

“Welcome, roomie,” she sang, her voice like violins used as bats, as she bounced off her bed and came running towards me. I put my hands up to my face in defense, crossing them over each other as if she were, in fact, the devil.

Judith stopped short and whined to her older brother. “Denny, you said she would be nice to me.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing and peeked out from behind my arms. Denny?

Denis chuckled and pushed me deeper into the room. My feet bit into the carpet in resistance. Was this my new form of torture? I craned my head back to look at Denis, my eyes questioning.

“Dad wants you in here with Judy because you keep destroying the cameras,” he said with a stupid smile on his face that I wanted to remove with sandpaper.

“I’m supposed to keep ma eye on you,” Judith drawled, pointing to her eye and pulling down the bottom lid with her orange-tinted finger, her eyeball juicy and red. Miming it out like I was too stupid to understand the words.

I grimaced. “I’d rather they threw me in prison.”

“Well, that’s not vaaarry nice.” Judith shook her head and pulled a pillow to her chest, hugging it like a teddy bear. I wanted to slap her pouting lips off her face.

Something vibrated in Denis’ pocket, a patch of light appearing through the material. He patted it but didn’t take it out. “I have to go,” he said apologetically.

He didn’t say goodbye, but then, he never did.

The door closed, sealing me in a bad dream like the lid closing over an airtight container. The air closed in around me, a cloud heavy with the smell of perfume and hair products. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and took a step closer.

Judith’s room wasn’t real. She didn’t seem real. Her perfect hair, her plastic-looking face. Perching on the edge of the bed, she watched me investigate my new living arrangements. She didn’t say anything but she made a lot of noise, huffing, puffing, and sighing every time I touched something.

I made my way to her dresser, tapping my finger along the different bottles of perfume, makeup, and nail polish. Pausing on a white pill bottle, I picked it up to read the label.

“That’s fer ma skin,” Judith said.

I shook it like a maraca. “Is that why you’re so orange?”

She pulled back, her hand to her heart like I’d wounded her.

I put the bottle down and pick up a lip gloss, rolling the sparkly pink tube between my fingers.

“You want to try it?” she asked, pinging me with the stretched rubber band that was her voice. I shook my head, a resounding no. “You know, this isn’t my idea of fun either. You could make a little efferrrt.”

I slammed the tube on the dresser, and she jumped. Her whole body pulling in like a startled slater bug. It seemed over the top. I watched her curiously, trying to decide what she was. Victim or foe. I wasn’t sure.

I vibrated with the want to shout at her, pull her hair, make her understand what my life was. Fun didn’t factor into it right now. The word was offensive to me. But I held it in. I needed to watch her, understand her more.

I simply said, “Please don’t talk to me about fun. It doesn’t exist for me.”

She blinked up at me, uncomprehending. And then a smile spread across her face, her thin lips shining artificially with glittery particles. “Of course not, silly, I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, her voice and her thin arms shaking as she spoke.

Was this some kind of show-me-who’s-boss kind of situation? Was she the dominant creature I was supposed to submit to? She didn’t even sound like she meant those words. Denis said give her a chance, but I couldn’t see why I should. Not yet anyway. I rounded the bed, eyeing the distance between us. What was Grant up to? I searched the corners for cameras.

“There are no cameras in here. Dad trusts me,” Judith bragged.

I wanted to cover my ears. “But he doesn’t trust me… What’s to stop me from holding you hostage, threatening your life to save my own?”

Judith shrugged her shoulders, that sad slump returning to her posture. “Go ahead. It won’t do ya any good. He’d let you kill me.” She dabbed her nose with the corner of the cushion she was still hugging tightly. She looked smaller and fragile, bathed in the silky pinkness that radiated from the nauseatingly flowery light above.

“But you’re his daughter,” I stammered. But then I remembered Denis saying he wasn’t the first Denis Grant.

“Yes I am, but there are more ware I came from.” She laughed pathetically.

Pity for her was squeezing its way between my ribs. I tried to resist it but I said, “I’m sorry,” before I could stop myself.

She hugged the pillow again. “It’s fine.”

“Denis said I should give you a chance, though I don’t understand why,” I managed through hard-set lips.

She laughed, her voice a bitter bark. “Yes, well, Denny is a bit of a dreamer in more ways than one. He has big plans.” She opened her arms wide, her limbs perfectly bowed like a dancer.

I prickled, my skin ruffled with bumps like a plucked chicken. “What do you mean?”

She beckoned with her carroty finger. I turned and leaned towards her, the sweet stench of her perfume making my throat itch.

“He wants to take our father’s place.” She swung her arms around the room. “You know, so he can change all of this.”

My fingers dug into the mattress. “But the only way he can do that is if Grant…”

“Dies? Yes. I didn’t say his plans were reaaalistic,” she muttered.

A thought pecked at the back of my neck like a bird. I know how, I know how…

I shuffled closer to her and tried to restrain the desperation in my voice. “If that’s true, why wouldn’t you tell your father of his plans?”

“I have plans too,” she said, picking at her nails and not meeting my eyes.

I returned to my bed and let her simple words roll over me. Redness creeped up my neck and crowded my cheeks, my breath coming in short, painful bursts.

Could I do it? Could I help them plan a murder?

Could I trust them?

Did I have a choice?

I knew the answer. It dinged inside my chest like a dull bell. No. I didn’t have a choice. If I had a chance to take Grant down, I had to take it.

I let her words sit in the air. I wasn’t giving her anything just now. I didn’t trust Denis wholly, and I definitely didn’t trust her. Standing up, I twisted my hair in my hands.

“So what are we supposed to do now?” I asked.

She lifted her eyes to mine, her lashes crimped and unnaturally curly. She reminded me of one of those blinking dolls that you flipped the head back and forth to open and shut the eyes. Orry had one back at the Wall. Its lips were rubbed off and its hair was missing in most places except just over its ears like a balding man. I shuddered.

“We get ready for dinner,” she said as she grabbed a hairbrush and approached me like it was a knife in her hand.

The next morning, Denis accompanied me downstairs like he had for the last few days. He coasted slowly next to me, his feet perfectly placed one after the other, his hand hovering near my waist but barely touching it. Then he broke from his normal behavior and dipped down to make eye contact with me. “How was your first night with Judy?” he asked.

“She snores, and she wears a mouth guard; it makes this horrible squeaaak when she grinds her teeth together,” I replied.

He laughed quietly and his fingers tapped across the small of my back.

The sunlight was white, cold. Sinister. It lazered my face and eyes as we walked past the windows. My body started to seize up the closer we got to the elevator doors. Once I passed through, all joking and pretending was over. I wasn’t relieved that at least this meant I wasn’t being terminated. How could you be relieved that your torture would continue?

The elevator ride would suck the smiles off our faces.

We reached the elevator doors and I slapped at the button weakly, but I didn’t actually press down. My lips trembled and my heart shivered in my chest. Every day it was harder. But I was getting harder too, my skin tougher, my eyes too used to violence, my body expecting pain and starting to understand it in a disturbing way. Denis went to push the elevator button, but I blocked his hand.

“I don’t think I can keep this up. How much longer do you think it will go on?” I breathed.

Exhaling, he leaned down to my ear. “It only ends when he breaks you or…” He let the words run out of air, his breath hissing between his lips in a tiny sigh.

“Or he kills me,” I finished for him. Breaking me meant me giving him the information he wanted. I would never do that. So death.

Then he did what I was hoping he would—he said the words that had rolled over and over in my mind all night as I listened to the squeak and grind of Judith’s sleeping. The thing I had convinced myself I could do. That I had to do.

“We could do it first,” he said so quietly I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t imagined it.

“Do what?” I mouthed, my hand still covering the button.

“Kill him. We could kill him first.” He put his hand over mine and pressed my palm towards the button. It lit up, blinking like a warning light I would have to ignore.

I didn’t say anything right away. I was silent in the elevator, my body straight, and my hands flat against my legs. He kept a distance. Two feet of solid air between us, piling up like concrete bricks. The doors slid back like a curtain to an operating theater and my fears were on the table, my life open and pinned back in gruesome positions for them to play with. I leaned back on my heels and then pressed forward, making my way towards the dreaded room.

One step—this was the man who stole me from my family.

Two steps—he drugged me, impregnated me against my will.

Three steps—he killed Addy, Apella, and hundreds of Survivors.

He was a bad man.

Four steps—he kidnapped Deshi, he took a father from his son… but then that was what he did. He took a sledgehammer to peoples’ families, yet here he was, living with a perfect little family of his own.

Five steps—he was going to hunt down Joseph, Orry, and everyone I cared about unless I stopped him.

Me.

Only me.

Denis’ hand gripped the handle to the black door. His eyes searched mine as his fingers threatened to push down. I put my hand next to his, grasped the brushed metal, and stared up at him.

“I know how,” I whispered, my eyes like two steel plates, my heart fighting against me as I said the words. I opened the door before he could answer and walked back into my torture chamber.