Dylan’s sharp voice still rang in my ears when I left Lauren’s room and made my way back to my own—or rather, what was left of it. I needed to see the destruction with my own eyes.
Scott had given me new literature, another weighty tome of over five hundred pages about the physical aspects of gravity, but it wouldn’t take my mind off the last few days’ events. I needed to get my thoughts in order—a few hours that didn’t consist of training or learning or strategy planning, a little free time to cope with all the things fate was throwing my way.
It felt as if my brain had turned to mush, a light headache humming at the back of my head ever since I’d opened my eyes this morning—a silent reminder of the changes my body had gone through with a certain sexy Fighter whom I’d clearly pissed off earlier.
Why his mood-shifting always seemed to take me by surprise was beyond me. Dylan wore two different faces, and you never knew which one you’d be confronted with the next minute.
Had I been wrong to suspect Cassie? We’d never gotten along, and she’d never hidden her resentment toward me, so maybe it was only natural for me to be suspicious of her. Or was Dylan too blind to see through her façade? He knew her better than me. They shared a past. I usually trusted his sentiment.
A hundred thoughts churned in my head as I entered my room, and I came to an abrupt halt when I saw the destruction behind the door.
The only part that seemed to be undamaged was the bathroom. In the main room, half of the ceiling hung down. The rest was reduced to a gaping hole where a huge chunk of concrete had crashed onto the bed, long zig-zag cracks a silent warning that the ceiling could crumble at any second.
The bed was a ruined mass of wood and metal, feathers from torn pillows scattered on the debris. The nightstand was broken, and the mirror on the wall was shattered. I recalled crashing into it before I lost consciousness. Dried specks of blood still stuck on the shards.
It was inconceivable how Dylan had gotten us out of here with nothing more than scratches. My eyes found the spot next to the bed where we’d landed after Dylan had rolled us onto the floor, shortly before the ceiling came down. It suddenly struck me how close we’d been to being seriously injured. I doubted Dylan would have survived a slab of concrete hitting his head.
Carefully stepping over the debris, I crouched low, touching the dusty bed sheets where Dylan and I had been entangled that fateful night. My entire Awakening had been one hell of a risk for him. He’d known, yet hadn’t left my side. Why? Just because of his devotion to saving a Natural? To avoid another failure on his part after he couldn’t protect Jenna and Shawna?
No, this couldn’t be. No man would go to such lengths just for the sake of fulfilling his duty and having a clear conscience.
A memory from when I’d tended to him after his fight with Cole crossed my mind, making me ache inside—Dylan’s hand trailing a hot path over my arm to my jaw, the longing in his eyes, that brief moment our lips had connected…
Had he just wanted to get into my pants or was there more to it? Had he taken advantage of me caught in the Revival just to get me to sleep with him? But, as close as we’d been to take that last step, he hadn’t overstepped the line, had only really touched me at the end when he couldn’t hold back any longer. Sure, he’d fought with himself, that much I’d seen in his eyes and felt in his touch, but he’d kept control the entire time.
This was more than just about sex, but we were clueless as to how to cope with things. Dylan was neither the man for relationships nor the man for talking about feelings.
And I was too timid to bring up the topic for fear of getting hurt. For fear of rejection. For fear of seeing the judgment in his appion eyes again—that look of condemnation he gave me in the beginning. Wow, what a pathetic little coward I was…
Sighing, I let the piece of fabric slip through my fingers, clouds of dust puffing up when it landed on the remains of my bed. Dylan and I needed to talk. It just never seemed to be the right time.
The earth under my feet suddenly vibrated, and I shot out my hand to keep steady. Debris trickled from the ceiling, but the rumbling was gone just as fast as it came. An earthquake? Or had my ability accidentally gone off?
A few minutes later, I heard quick footsteps approaching before someone banged open the door.
“Haylie!”
Jerking my head toward the panicked voice, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Cassie standing there, gasping for breath.
“Uhm… hey, what—”
“It’s Dylan,” she blurted out, her face a mask of horror. The blood in my veins froze in the blink of an eye. “They returned, but they were under attack. Dylan’s barely alive,” she choked, voice breaking at the end.
The mission. Dylan and the others had been on a routine check-out. He’d assured me there were no risks. How could it have escalated so quickly?
“Where are they?” I rushed, hurrying to Cassie’s side.
“Outside in the woods.”
No. Please, not him of all people. I didn’t know what I would do if anything happened to Dylan. He was the only reason I was still on the sane side.
“Where exactly?” I asked as soon as we exited through the trap door to the cemetery.
“This way,” Cassie answered, pointing with her hand to the dense forest.
I sprinted forward, not hesitating one second, but as I entered the woods, the moist earth crunching beneath my shoes, and the gnarly branches whipping my skin, my mind started to reel, going over every possible scenario on how it had come to this. Something didn’t make sense.
“Why would they return to the backside? They couldn’t even park the car anywhere nearby…”
A cold laughter echoed through the trees, and I froze on the spot. There was a second of silence before it dawned on me.
Dammit, I’d walked into a trap.
A stinging pain shot up my neck, my hand flying to its source and touching something thin and short sticking out. A needle?
“It was you all the time…” were my last words before the forest’s canopy tilted, encasing me in utter blackness.
~~~
I awoke before my eyelids managed the effort to open a slit. They seemed to be glued shut, and my mind was too sluggish to remember anything. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was having a gigantic hangover preventing my limbs from cooperating. A heavy headache pulsed in the back of my head, making me groan.
What the hell happened yesterday? Hang on… or was it even the same day?
A vision of Dylan’s face made it through the haze of pain—his intense, appion eyes on me, a slight smile on his face as he traced two fingers over my jaw the morning I awoke after the Awakening.
As soon as the thought entered my mind, everything came rushing back in snippets, increasing my headache to an unbearable level.
Training with Lisa, Dylan shouting at me, visiting the remains of my room and then… Cassie. Cassie telling me that the mission had gone wrong, that Dylan was badly hurt, and me running off into the unknown without a second thought.
I knew I wouldn’t find myself in the compound before I opened my eyes. The stale air filling my nostrils was unfamiliar and smelled wrong. Blinding light made me blink until I could make out a high concrete ceiling with dangling bulbs looming above me. I shivered from the low temperature in the room.
Wherever I was, Cassie was the reason I was here. Anger welled inside me at remembering her vicious smile as she watched me crumbling limply to the ground. If the bitch ever came near me again, I’d squash her like a fly with my power whether Dylan approved or not.
With a grunt and a lot of effort, I pushed myself up from the hard and uncomfortable bed, my shoes touching concrete. The headache made me dizzy, and I grabbed the bed frame for support. What had that bitch injected me with?
As soon as I heard a clinking noise and felt the restraints around my foot, I knew I was shackled. A manacle wound around my left ankle, a thick chain connecting it to a heavy metal ring embedded in the ground. The ring was nearly as thick as the ropes from the parkour in the compound’s training hall, and from the looks of it, it was twice as heavy as me. They hadn’t left anything to chances. Only a Fighter would have the strength to rip the thing off its hinges.
With a pounding heart, I took in my surroundings. The room was square and brightly lit. No windows were visible except for a little one embedded into the steel door to my right revealing nothing but an empty hallway. I groaned. Of course, they kept me underground. Jeez, did all Roes live like moles under the earth?
Except for the squeaking cot I occupied and an identical one on the opposite wall, the room was void of anything else. Or could it even be called a room? ‘Cell’ seemed to be more appropriate, even if it was void of handlebars. I’d bet the door was locked, so there was really no difference between a prisoner’s cell and mine.
Not that I had any chance of getting out of here. The chain binding me was long enough to enable free movement halfway through the room, but it wouldn’t get me near the door. They’d finally caught me after months of failures, and they would do anything to prevent me from escaping.
I had no idea where I was or how much time had passed. For all I knew, they could have shipped me off to another continent while I was out like a light. I couldn’t even tell if it was night or day. Planning an exit strategy would be difficult. Patience was needed now, which was something I lacked, considering I was in the dark about Dylan’s whereabouts or the rest of the crew. I knew that Cassie had used Dylan’s condition as an excuse to lure me out—and it made me damn angry that I fell for their deceptions a second time—but this was no assurance that no one was harmed.
Thinking back to when I’d exited the compound last time, I didn’t recall any of Cole’s team standing sentry outside. Both entrances were guarded twenty-four-seven. The Hunters had somehow managed to draw them away, and I doubted Cassie had done it herself. Which left the question—
The locks on the heavy door clicked, and it was only after about half a minute of scratching and fumbling that it swung open. Several locks seemed to be kept in place. Should I be proud of being handled like a criminal on Interpol’s top-wanted list?
A young, delicate woman entered, followed by a tall guy in heavy army boots. He was armed with a staff, and gathering from the lack of facial expression, he was undoubtedly a guard. Their eyes flashed with the Flare. Roes. I wasn’t surprised. I wouldn’t have counted on coming across any normal people here.
The woman’s eyes were wary as she approached me as if she was afraid. Afraid of me or someone else? She wore a baby blue coat, similar to the one I’d borrowed when breaking into the hospital’s archive with Dylan. Her golden hair was pulled into a low ponytail, revealing a heart-shaped, porcelain face and freckles on her cheeks. She held a tray of food, which she set down on the cot next to me.
“Who are you?” I asked in a sharp voice.
“I’m here to tend to your wounds,” she answered without looking at me, sidestepping my question. Gathering from the lack of a medkit or any other medical stuff, I figured she was a Regenerator.
I slapped her hand away as she lifted it up to my lip that was still split from my last training lesson. “I don’t need your healing. Where am I?”
A familiar click echoed through the empty space, and I froze. The guard had a gun pointed in my direction.
“You’ll do as you’re told,” he sneered, his eyes unrelenting.
He was a very ugly man, to say the least—a huge, crooked nose and an angry scar elongating the outer corner of his mouth, giving him the appearance of wearing a permanent, vicious grin. It prevented him from opening his mouth properly when speaking. His voice was so deep, it rumbled through the cell. To say this man was downright frightening would have been an understatement. He was a mixture of Dwayne Johnson and Joker from Batman.
“You want to shoot me? Why bother with a Regenerator to heal me, then?” I snapped, despite the danger I felt coming.
The guard’s face turned red with anger, and a vein in his neck started to pulse. He couldn’t compete with my logic, but he was eager to show me who was in charge here. Taking two steps closer, he rested the gun’s barrel on my kneecap. I swallowed down hard.
“Do you know why Regenerators are so convenient?” he drawled, eyes glinting with excitement. I kept my mouth shut and tried my best not to look frightened. “I can shoot you now and let her heal you,” he explained with a nod in the woman’s direction, who was standing by my side, nervously tugging at the hem of her coat and head bent in submission.
“And then…” He paused, bringing his face so close to mine, his hot, sour breath wafted over my cheek. “... I can do it again. And again. And again.” His voice became lower with each word until it was barely a whisper. “And no one will ever know. Do you really want to push your luck?”
No one will ever know… He wasn’t the one pulling the strings here, but I’d already suspected it. So, who was it then? Aitana? Dorian? Or a new player?
The guard took my silence as surrender and motioned for the woman to start with the healing, stepping back to give her room. I didn’t complain this time. Thinking about it, it would be stupid to refuse the offer. Injuries would only slow me down if I wanted to escape.
The woman knelt down in front of me to start her healing procedure. Heat rushed through my system, but as my wounds were only superficial, the pain was dull. She concentrated on the cut on my lip, then moved to the scrapes on my forehead. “Please make your upper body bare,” she asked with a soft voice.
I gave the guard a sharp look. “Not as long as he’s watching.” No way would I give him the pleasure of seeing me naked.
A lazy grin crept over his mouth, one that made me want to gag. “Nothing I’ve not seen before, Natural.”
Doubtful, I thought. “Only over my dead body,” I growled through clenched teeth.
“Oh, you say that now,” he replied, yanking out a sharp knife from his belt. Stepping closer again, he glided the knife under the hem of my shirt, lifting it an inch. My heart rate increased, and my breathing became erratic. “Either you’ll do it, or I’ll do it for you. Your choice.”
“Gordon, I don’t think he’ll be pleased with that,” the woman interjected with a sharp look in his direction. He? Not Aitana, then. Dorian, maybe? “Why don’t you wait outside until I’m finished?”
Gordon sneered at me, then at her, but finally backed off allowing me to breathe again. “One wrong move, and I’ll make sure you regret it,” he warned with a final glare of malice and stomped out, getting into position in front of the steel door after it slammed shut.
What did he expect me to do? Use my powers and bring down the ceiling on top of us?
I turned around in case Gordon peeked through the window and shrugged off my jacket and shirt, revealing some nasty bruises I’d received while training with Lisa. The woman’s hands hovered over my skin as she activated her ability.
“Thank you,” I said to her. Gordon would never have left without her intervening. She gave me a slight nod in acceptance. “What’s your name?” She appeared to be a kind person who might be forced to work here. Winning her as my ally seemed my only option to get out of this prison and fleeing from whatever horror awaited me.
“I’m not allowed to talk to you,” she whispered, eyes averted.
“Please… Where am I? What do they want with me?” I pressed, but she only shook her head. “How can I get out of here?” I continued, and this time, she shot me a warning look, then nodded in the direction of the door and pointed a finger to her ears. It took me a second to understand what she wanted to tell me—Gordon was a Catcher. He must be one hell of a Catcher if his ability could penetrate the massive concrete walls. Dammit. This limited my options for communication.
I nodded in understanding, defeat dampening my spirits. After the Regenerator finished, I donned my clothes. Gordon opened the door a second later retrieving a set of keys he tossed to the woman. She shuffled through them until finding the right one and opened my manacle. I didn’t catch which key she used as they all looked identical to me.
Gordon approached me, another pair of shackles in his hands, which he put around my wrists, snapping them so tight they cut off my blood flow, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me in pain.
“Get up,” he snapped, the gun in his hands a silent warning. The woman put a warm hand on my upper arm and tugged lightly, telling me to be a good girl and cooperate. For now, I did.
They steered me out into the hallway. I remembered Scott’s instructions from a training lesson months ago. “Know your environment.” So, I tried my best to memorize every detail as they escorted me down the broad aisle.
More concrete. Everywhere. Long neon tubes illuminated the wide corridors, giving off an unpleasant, cold light that only added to the scary aura of the place. We passed several cells similar to mine, but I didn’t get close enough to the windows embedded in the doors to see who or what was inside.
The cells ended after what felt like an endless walk into the unknown, and we rounded a corner to the right where a wide glass panel filled up an entire wall. The rooms behind were filled with desks, lamps, and wide control panels with an array of buttons and wheels. If the long-curved microphones hanging in the air were anything to go by, they were control rooms of some sort, but they were void of any people. Worn-down chairs littered the room, and dust covered the surfaces, so I figured the place hadn’t been used for at least half a century. Several metal cabinets lined up along the back walls. Maybe they hid anything that could be used as weapons, but I didn’t have high hopes.
Finally, we reached the end of the aisle, another heavy steel door on the right.
“Behave,” Gordon cautioned before the woman opened the lock with her keys, hustling me through, the door shutting behind her with a loud rattle. Darkness engulfed me, but as soon as we entered, the neon tubes flickered to life with startling clanking sounds echoing off the tiled space, one by one showing me long basins in several rows on one side, and at least twenty shower cabins on the other side. An old community bath. Where the hell had I landed?
The woman walked over to a metal locker and took out towels, soap, and black clothes. They wanted me to take a shower.
I wondered how she expected me to take my clothes off with the manacles still in place, so I lifted my hands in front of my face with raised brows in her direction. The woman nodded in understanding and retrieved her keys, making them jingle with her trembling hands. She was really, truly afraid of me.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise,” I assured her, and after a glance into my eyes for reassurance, she opened my shackles but put them back in place again as soon as I was out of my clothes. She helped me soap my skin, as I couldn’t do it myself in my handicapped state, and rinsed me with warm water.
I didn’t fight. On the one hand, it didn’t feel as if the Regenerator was my enemy, and I had no intention to get her in trouble. On the other hand, there was nothing in this giant bathroom that would be of any help. Besides, the manacles limited my movements.
Dylan’s words from long ago came back into my mind. “Think. Then act. Never the other way around.”
I needed more time to gather information. Rash acting could be my downfall. What would I gain if I escaped now with as much knowledge as before? They would come for me again as long as we didn’t put a stop to this once and for all. We needed to figure out what the Hunters were up to, and I was closer to them than any of the rest had ever been before. Might as well use the situation to my benefit.
“I’m Gabby,” the woman whispered just loud enough for me to hear over the rush of water. “Don’t talk as long as there’s a possibility Gordon can hear you,” she continued, her voice quivering.
“Who’s keeping me here?” I whispered back.
“Don’t anger him,” she continued, ignoring my question. “He’s capable of anything…” From the sounds of it, Gabby had already made acquaintance with Gordon’s methods resulting from disobedience.
Gabby switched off the shower, which ended our brief conversation. After towel-drying me, she opened my manacles to stuff my arms through a plain black T-shirt and my jacket and helped me with the pants.
“You’re needed in the lab,” Gordon barked when we left the bath. Gabby nodded, giving me a pitiful look after hurrying down the aisle. Lab. I had a strange feeling I’d get acquainted with this area soon.
While Gordon walked me back to my cell, the barrel of his gun resting on my lower back, which, in my opinion, was exaggerated, I counted the steps. Ninety-two steps to the first corner, and then another one-hundred fifty-six to our desired destination. Two-hundred and forty-eight in total, and I had yet to walk the hallway in the other direction. The area was as big as Jimmy’s compound, and likely consisted of multiple levels.
After Gordon shoved me roughly back into my cage, he shackled my ankle, keeping my wrist manacles in place. “Your new companion will join you soon,” he informed me with an evil grin on his face. It sounded as if the cot opposite mine was occupied.
I didn’t need to wait long until the door creaked open again, and Gordon pushed another figure inside. From the looks of long, blonde hair, it was a woman, but it wasn’t until Gordon shackled her and left the room, that she finally lifted her head. Bruises in all shades covered her face, and her tangled hair clung to the blood crusts on her forehead.
I recognized her only because of the swirls of her colorful tattoo on her cleavage.
“You,” I muttered in astonishment.