“Don’t play with the Devil, he always cheats.”
—Anonymous
I barge into Felix’s office. When he sees my expression, he hangs up the phone.
“Let me guess,” he sighs, rubbing the balls of his palms against his eyes. “You’re looking for Raife.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“He’s in the basement, but he cut the cameras down there a while ago.” He loops his pointer finger around his ear and whistles the universal coo-coo tune. “He’s officially lost it, man. Wanna pop in?”
My gaze narrows. “Not yet.” Raife’s trying to get me downstairs, but that’s not how this is supposed to work. I go where I want to go. “I need your help.”
“Anything, brother.”
“Can you access Raife’s computer from here?”
Felix scoffs. “Can I access—” He waves a hand through the air and sits up in his seat, then his fingers are flying across the keyboard. “Look, the dude’s off his rocker. So whatever this is, I’m in. What do you need to know?”
My shoulders loosen slightly, and I lean forward to see the screen, resting my palms on his desk. I might usually work solo, but it’s good knowing I still have a brother on my side. Especially this one.
Felix was always the sanest of our group, even before we met him. When Felix—or ‘Lex’ at the time—was nine, he lost his family in a car accident gruesome enough to rival the basement after a kill. He barely survived himself. After getting hooked on OxyContin by the age of ten and being tossed around in the foster system, he started to prefer the streets. It was easier to get his oxy there anyway since his doctor cut him off. When the four of us broke out of the studio, Felix stuck to us like a wolf who finally found his pack. And when he met Aubrey in rehab years later, she became a part of our pack too.
I nod toward the computer, grumbling, “Raife’s been obsessing over this Emmy/Katerina thing. I need to know what else he has on her. Anything to clue me in on what’s going on inside his head and what he’s up to.”
He’s quiet for a minute, flicking through shit like it’s as easy as one, two, three. “Got something. Looks like he accessed it this morning, after our meeting. It’s related to Kentucky.”
I straighten and fold my arms over my chest, squinting at the screen as he opens another file.
Kentucky.
We went back there once since the night of our escape, and that was weeks after everything went down. I tried to return sooner for closure regarding Sofia, but my brothers—or, back then, new friends—insisted on waiting till things cooled off, so we didn’t get arrested for murder. At the time, I fucking lost it on them. Even made an anonymous 911 call later that night despite knowing she was dead. At least they could get her body out of that tainted shithole.
Years later I realized it was good they stopped me. I would only have gotten us all locked up. Or worse.
When we finally did return, it was nothing but a big, green piece of land covered in trees. There were a few cottage-type properties on it, but not a single thing to reveal Misha or an underground shelter.
We eventually learned Murphy owned the land. Still does. And that a lot of money can cover up a lot of shit. Add a lawyer and politician to the mix, and the guy is virtually bulletproof.
“Here we go.”
It’s a video. Felix hits play, and we watch as a news reporter films in front of a hospital. The footage is raw and unedited, her hair blowing in her face and the sound intermittent.
“Mere hours ago the young girl was transferred to this very hospital in delicate but stable condition. She was discovered in an underground bunker on Wiley Road thanks to an anonymous call made to the police station at four-fifteen this morning.”
My fingers dig into my shirt sleeves as her words reverberate in my ears. “What the fuck is this?”
Felix’s mouth is hanging open, his eyes stuck on the screen.
“It appears that the child had been submerged in water from her chin down for an extensive period of time, reaching safety by using iron bars to climb above the water’s surface. The exact time frame is not yet determined. While her injuries primarily seem to be bruises, likely caused from gripping tightly to the bars for such an extended period, she has experienced severe mental trauma and is not speaking at this time. At present, we are unable to identify the child. Authorities are actively working to identify her and trace any living relatives.”
The screen goes black, and Felix starts clicking away again, but I’m fucking frozen from the inside out.
There’s no way this is legit. I researched Misha, Sofia, everything about that place. We all did. And what we wound up with was the mother of all cover-ups. There was nothing to trace back to Murphy or any of the others there. Anything in the underground communities and black market had been wiped clean. And as far as Katerina and Sofia, it was like they never existed. Neither of them had records, not even a birth certificate to their names.
“Shit, this is impressive,” Felix mutters, scrolling through something coded on his screen. “The asshole undermined me and hired an outside hacker to dig this up.” He lets out a low whistle. “Gotta admit, I’m seeing a little green with envy here. This shit was buried deep, bro. As in, the footage was never released. Actually, it was shut down mid-report.” There’s a pause as he sits back, rubs his chin. “Huh. So if Raife just received this clip this morning . . . after you let Emmy cut him up . . .”
My lungs are so constricted I can’t take a goddamn breath as I storm from Felix’s office.
“Well, fuck me,” he murmurs, jogging down the stairs behind me. “I swear though, dude, if this becomes a habit, I’m not going to chase after you next time.”
My lungs are on fire, my pulse thrashing so hard I’m seeing black stars by the time I reach my room. I swing the door open, stopping in my tracks as I notice Emmy’s absence. My gaze finds Aubrey tied to the bed, duct tape covering her mouth.
“What the fuck,” Felix growls, pacing past me.
The fuck is right.
Felix strokes her hair then places his fingers on the edge of the tape. “This is going to hurt, baby.” She nods, and he rips with one quick movement.
“Fuck!” she shrieks.
I grip the doorframe, one foot already out the door. “Where’s Em—”
“He took her,” she pants as Felix leans down and frees her wrists. “Fucking Griff took her.”