Ella

I’m feeding Bo snacks and drinks while he drives, making sure we only stop when necessary. I even texted Mom because she was freaking out when she found me missing from the house. It took some convincing to tell her I was fine, and she almost wanted to come and get me herself. But that’s just it … I don’t need anyone to take care of me anymore.

I want to do this on my own, and I don’t want her to be there. Not because I don’t appreciate it or because she’d be in the way, but because I don’t want her to see the true horrors of where I’ve been. I want to spare her the grief.

It takes hours to get to our destination, and I can’t help but doze off every so often. I can’t help it; my body is too tired to keep going.

However, right when I’m about to step into my dreams where I’m together with Cage again, Bo shoves my shoulder.

“We’re here,” he informs, waking me up abruptly.

It takes me a while to come to my senses, but the moment his words connect in my brain, my eyes fly open.

I immediately jump out of the car and gaze at the horizon.

Red sand … as far as the eye can see.

This is exactly the place I remember; the same desert I fought my way through to get back to the land of the living.

But where do we even start looking?

Bo steps out of the car too, locking the door before he comes to stand beside me and gaze at the scene in front of him.

“This is where they found you?”

I nod.

“How did you even manage to get here? That desert stretches for miles and miles. No one could survive that.”

I don’t know. I guess I had an angel watching over me, I sign.

He smiles. “Or maybe you’re an angel disguised as a human.”

I roll my eyes, but his comment did make me grin. Bo’s always had that effect on me. He manages to defuse tension with the snap of a finger—even though it isn’t always appropriate. But I don’t care; I like him the way he is. Just your average Joe … or Bo, in this case.

“Okay, where do we start?” he asks.

I narrow my eyes and gaze at the road we just drove on, trying to find a point of entry. Something that could lead me to my trail. Something remotely familiar.

“Do you recognize anything?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Maybe not here … but what about out there? Any rock formation that looks familiar?”

I stare ahead. In the distance, I see a set of breast-shaped mountains that looks odd but reminds me of something. Something I saw when I was struggling to walk, struggling to even breathe.

I point at it and mouth, “There.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Bo says, and he immediately runs back to the car again.

I sign at him as he gets behind the wheel, What are you doing?

“Bringing us there,” he states. “Jump in.”

* * *

We drive as fast as humanly possible through the desert toward the mountains I described. My heart is racing in my throat as I watch them creep closer, though not nearly fast enough. I wish I could catapult myself from my seat and land near the compound, but that’s wishful thinking. Who knows how far it still is. Even if we get to the mountains, there’s no way it’s that easy to find the compound. That’s just the start of the trail.

I sit back in my seat anxiously, chewing my nails while urging Bo to hurry up. I know he wants to drive safely, and I do too, but my mind is going in circles right now. Cage is locked away somewhere deep inside that compound in the middle of fucking nowhere, and he’s injured. Maybe even dead.

Shivers run all down my spine.

I hope not.

I pray to God he’s still alive.

When we get to the two breast-shaped mountains, Bo stops the car, and I immediately rush out into the open terrain. Rubbing my forehead, I try to get a sense of where I am, but I have no clue. Nothing seems familiar except these two rocks.

Far away, near some other rocks, I can definitely see a bunch of cars, though … and a whole row of people talking to each other. People in black suits with a smidge of gold.

Police officers.

My eyes widen, and I turn and sign at Bo, There!

He follows my finger as I point and gazes into the distance, mumbling, “Are those … cops?”

I don’t even wait for his response before I jump behind the wheel and beckon him to get inside.

“Coming,” he says, and he quickly jumps in before I drive off.

I’m much faster than Bo is when it comes to driving, and it seems to scare him a little because he’s holding the handles and his seat like his life depends on it.

“Slow down,” he stresses. “The car’s gonna flip.”

I don’t think it will. His fear keeps him from ever doing anything reckless. Not for me, though. I’ve been through hell and come back alive. I can handle rough terrain. Especially one so familiar to me.

The closer I am, the more amped I get, at which point I begin to honk. Some of the police officers turn their heads, mumbling to each other. They must wonder what I’m doing here. But I don’t care about the looks I’m getting. All I want is for Cage to be safe and to come home with me. That’s all I want, and I’m not leaving until I have him.

I park my car right next to a police car and jump out, throwing my door closed without even waiting for Bo to get out too. I march toward the police men with Bo chasing after me.

“Ella! Hold up,” he says, but I can’t wait.

“What are you doing here, ma’am? This terrain is off the tracks you’re allowed to go on,” one of the officers says.

I quickly take out the notepad I brought with me and write.

I’m Ella Rosenberg. I was a prisoner in the compound in this desert. Are you searching for Cage?

Some of the police officers talking amongst themselves have turned around and started walking again before I even have the chance to show them my words. Damn.

I hold it up quickly to one of the few remaining officers.

He frowns and says, “Ella? You’re the Ella? The one from the news?”

I nod. Apparently, I’m notorious already.

“Okay. Interesting.” He makes a face. “And you came all the way out here to what …?”

“To help find Cage,” Bo says, coming to my aid.

“No need, ma’am,” he states, “We’ve already found the bunker.”

My eyes widen, and I struggle to contain myself as I quickly write more words.

Where is it? Is Cage there? Is he alive?

“We don’t know if he is, ma’am. We’re preparing to go inside, but you have to stay here.” He holds up his hand. “We can’t allow you to go inside.”

“Why?” Bo asks, beating me to it.

“We don’t know if it’s clear for entry yet. We’ll search the compound and bring out any captives. But you’re not allowed to go any farther than this. Let us handle this,” he says.

His radio sounds, and I can clearly hear the men saying they’re going in. My heart skips a beat. The man replies, and this back-and-forth conversation goes on for a bit. Trying to peek over the man’s shoulder, I’m chewing on the inside of my cheek, hoping to catch a glimpse of what’s going on, but apparently, they want to keep it under tight wrap.

I await anxiously for what’s going to happen next. I keep a hawk-eye on the man in front of me, who’s still talking to the other officers through his radio with his back turned against us. My heart beats in my throat, and the only thing keeping me from running over there is Bo’s firm fingers latched onto mine.

“Status update,” the man in front of me says.

It takes a while for the other group to answer, making me almost chew my lip off.

“Nothing, sir.”

My eyes widen.

“Nothing?” Bo asks.

“Everything’s clear,” the police officer replies.

What?

What does that mean?

How can everything be clear?

That doesn’t make any sense.

“Did they find him?” Bo asks.

The man in front of us turns around again and makes a face. “No, it appears the compound has been abandoned.”

My jaw drops, and I sign, No, that can’t be true.

I jerk free of Bo’s grip and start running. Past the man, past the rocks. No matter how much they shout, I won’t turn around. I won’t go back, not until I find him. He has to be here. There’s no other way.

Cage is in there; they just haven’t found him yet.

When I get over a hill, the compound is in clear view, and it makes me take a gulp of air. Still, I push on, unafraid of the place that was my prison for so long.

I rush to the big, iron doors and go inside, letting them slam shut behind me. The lights flicker and there are cobwebs everywhere. There are also dirty footprints on the floor—black … or maybe even red.

I push on and go through the corridors, through the red room, up the stairs, and through more corridors. I know exactly where to find him. I don’t have to look anywhere else.

I can hear the police men downstairs. Through the small windows, I can see them walk around the fighting ring area, but no one else is there. They won’t find a thing down there.

I also know why … They’re searching in the wrong place.

I quickly open the door in front of me and run straight for the iron bolted door with the keypad next to it. I smash my fists onto the door screaming, “Cage!”

It’s the first time in hours that I hear my own voice again.

Except, no matter how hard I call for his name, he doesn’t respond.

“Cage, please!” I plead with him, hoping, begging he’s still alive.

Tears well up in my eyes as I smash the door with my fists, wishing I could break through.

After a few minutes, the police officers enter this room, pointing their guns at me. I put my hands in the air and beckon them toward the door.

“Move!” the first one yells, and I step aside.

Another one grabs me and pulls me with him into the small chamber that used to be Graham’s office, but now it’s littered with paper and thrown aside furniture because of me. Because of my escape.

“What are you doing in here? Are you one of the captives? Or did you get in another way?”

I nod and shake my head, walking to the desk so I can grab a piece of paper and a pen and write.

I used to be locked up in here. Ella Rosenberg. Cage is in there, behind that door.

I hold it up to him and point at the door, which the other officers are breaking open right now.

They stick a small explosive to the back of the door and yell at each other. The one guy inside the office with me shuts the door and holds me close. A bang ensues.

I struggle to breathe.

Did they get it open?

I can hear them walk. The metallic door makes that familiar creaking sound.

I quickly free myself from the man’s grasp and rush through that same door and into the room where I was held for weeks.

But I am not prepared for seeing the glass prison with my own eyes again.

Not prepared for the bloody stains on the windows and walls. Handprints.

Drops all over the concrete floor.

Cage is nowhere to be found.