Freeze

by Kaitlyn Davis

  He flinched.

  “Sorry I’m locked in a cell? Sorry I’ll be gone soon?”

  His entire body convulsed in one sudden motion, but he kept his hand glued to the intercom, not cutting her off, as though he wanted the punishment, as though he needed to hear it.

  “Sorry you helped kill me?”

  His chest caved in, as though a knife had struck and was lodged there. His knees finally gave out, and he sank, dropping toward the floor, keeping only one hand up so he could continue listening to the sound of her voice, as though he would suffer any blow to keep hearing it.

  Pandora folded her fingers into fists, trying to control the trembles washing through her. A heavy weight hung in the back of her throat, pressure mounting as her insides burned, boiling over with hurt and hate and fury. And love too. That was the worst part, knowing that even after everything, part of her couldn’t quit caring, couldn’t stop worrying she was taking things too far.

  But she had to.

  He’d left her no other choice.

  So she swallowed the emotion back down, all of it, the whole jumbled, confused mess, and put everything she had into keeping her expression blank and her voice void of anything human. Because she had one goal, getting answers, and she would do whatever it took to find them.

  “Would you like my forgiveness, Jackson?”

  He snapped his head up at the sound of his full name, so odd and unfamiliar on her tongue. His brows curved in, as though he were looking at someone he didn’t recognize, someone he knew he created.

  “Is that why you’re here? Forgiveness?” Her voice broke off abruptly, anger bubbling over as his expression twisted into something sad, something glimmering with understanding and the barest hint of sympathy. Pandora paused, bringing her composure back, unable to stop herself from glancing away from those eyes that had always had the power to see right through her. “I want to speak to my father.”

  “Dory…” His voice was so soft, barely there, so close to breaking.

  One more word.

  One final blow.

  And Pandora knew just what to say, because she knew him better than he knew himself. At least, she once thought she did.

  “If you ever loved me at all,” she started, a whisper infused with all the feeling she couldn’t hold back, a whisper giving the briefest glimpse of the damaged girl she was trying to hide, a whisper that held Jax enraptured. “If what we had was ever real, please, please, bring me my father. I need to speak with him. Need to talk to him. I need to see him, one last time, before, before—just…before.”

  And then Pandora wrapped herself in the shadows, vanishing from sight, retreating swiftly so he wouldn’t see her collapse on the floor, utterly drained, utterly spent, utterly broken. Her eyes found the bland gray ceiling, because she couldn’t look at Jax anymore. Couldn’t watch him try to decipher the empty space she’d once filled, couldn’t watch the love flicker in his gaze for a moment longer, couldn’t watch him walk away yet again.

  She just…couldn’t.

  “I will,” Jax answered, resolved. His one last promise, one last chance to make at least one of her wishes come true. Exactly what he’d wanted, exactly what she knew he needed.

  She was supposed to follow him.

  That was the plan.

  Follow him. Listen to his conversation. Find her father.

  But she couldn’t gather the energy to pick herself up off the floor. So she waited, lying there for she didn’t know how long, until the static of the intercom filled her ears once more, this time with stilted silence.

  Pandora sat up and stared into Malcolm Scott’s face.

  He looked older. She didn’t want to notice, but she couldn’t help it. His stone-cold eyes looked weary. He was nearly bald now, and the little hair he had left had turned a dark ash, no longer smooth and black like she remembered. The wrinkles around his eyes and across his forehead had deepened. But his lips were set in the same hard line she was used to, resolved and stubborn—a trait she’d probably inherited from him.

  “Hello, Pandora,” he said slowly, enunciating each syllable as though it were its own word. That dark, knowing gaze roved over the walls of her cell, searching for some sign of her, some signal his invisible daughter was in fact listening, was in fact the person he’d locked inside. “Jackson said you wanted to see me. I hadn’t planned on coming, but circumstances being what they are, I thought, maybe…” he trailed off.

  Maybe what? Pandora silently asked. Thought maybe you owed me a goodbye before you killed me? But she shook her head. That would get her nowhere. And he sounded tired, she realized. Not sad or desperate or any of the things she wanted him to be, but worn out in a way she’d never heard before. And maybe that was something.

  He sighed audibly into the microphone, tone changing. “Well? Are you going to come out, or was this just another game for us to play?”

  A game? Pandora thought, laughing darkly to herself. It’s never been a game, Dad. You know that better than I do.

  The bitterness she was trying so hard to hide came crawling out, wrapping around her insides like barbed wire, not letting go. But there was something about the resigned, almost annoyed way he was standing that pissed her off. Something she didn’t understand.

  Until suddenly she did.

  Aren’t you the least bit sorry? The least bit guilty for locking up your own daughter? For planning to end her life? she questioned, brows coming together as the image of Jax this morning replayed across her thoughts, juxtaposed against her father. Jax had barely been able to speak, barely been able to stand. But her father was on two proud feet, spine tall, seemingly unafraid to face her. Because he’s never loved me at all, she realized, defeated, sagging. He’s not guilty, not sorry, because for my entire life, he’s kept his duty and his honor wrapped around his heart like a shield. There was no room for me. No crack I could slip through. Nothing. Not even now, not even at what he thinks is the end.

  “Pandora,” he said again, annoyed now.

  And it was exactly what she needed to hear to get moving.

  In a blink, she pulled the shadows closer, leaving her father behind as the image of the command center filled her thoughts. Not a second later, she was there.

  On to phase two, she thought, squaring her shoulders and building her wall back up, becoming the vampire thief once more—minus the fangs, of course. But the rest was the same. The attitude. The cockiness. The skill.

  As silent as a lioness on the prowl, Pandora slipped into the empty chair in front of the main control panel and stared at the blank computer screen. She wrapped the keyboard in shadow, careful to make sure no one was paying attention as it disappeared, becoming part of her world. Locking the sound inside the darkness, she typed the name and password she’d memorized yesterday, after spending hours watching the man who usually sat at this desk enter it again and again and again. She clicked through folder after folder, searching for the security center, diving deeper and deeper into the matrix until she found it—access to the door controls. Moving methodically, she clicked every door open—to each cell, each passage, each entrance she could find. When she was done, an alert blinked onto the screen asking for fingerprint verification. A black pad on the desk blinked, outlined in red, as she knew it would be.

  So she waited.

  Thirty seconds later, he was walking back from the other end of the room, fresh cup of coffee in hand.

  “Hey—”

  Pandora cut him off, wrapping an invisible hand over his mouth, using her other arm to find the pressure point at his neck and squeezing. He struggled a bit at first, but he was a human, and she was a titan, and she trapped the noise within the shadows so no one else would hear. Before long, he slumped in her arms. She let his body melt into the chair, then grabbed his limp wrist and guided his pointer finger to the touch pad.

  The outline changed to green.

  Every lock on every door in the prison slid open.

  “What the… Is anybody el
se seeing this?” the government official at the next desk over suddenly asked, swiveling his head toward the man now slumped over in his chair. “John!” he shouted, rushing over. “Something’s happened to John!”

  But it was too late.

  Pandora was already on the other side of the room with a pair of scissors in her hand. Moving as quickly as possible, she cut every wire she could find—computers, security cameras, television screens, anything she could access. Men and women raced around the room, trying to understand what the hell was happening and how. Titan eyes grew laser focused, awareness dawning that somehow, someway, she had to be playing a part. Fingers worked hastily to rectify the breach. An alarm blared.

  In the center of the chaos, Pandora grinned.

  Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.

  She had no idea how much time she’d bought, but it would be enough.

  Because it had to be.

  Not sparing another moment, she melted into the shadows, then reappeared in the hallway outside her cell just in time to hear her father shout one word.

  “Pandora!”

  He spun and cursed as the ringing alarms found their way down to the bottom floor.

  “Where are you?” he murmured, scanning the hallway, the newly opened doors on either end, everywhere but her cell, which was exactly why she’d needed him down here and out of the control room. Whether he loved her or not, he knew her. He understood her. And he always caught on to her schemes.

  Not this time, Pandora thought, moving beside him, close enough she could hear his staggered breathing.

  He didn’t sense her.

  Not even a little bit.

  Because he never loved me, she thought, realization sinking deeper. Surely, a father who loved his daughter would be able to find her anywhere. Especially if she was standing right next to him, close enough to touch.

  Why won’t you love me? Why won’t you see me?

  What did I ever do?

  Part of her wanted to shout, to punch him, to confront him. Part of her wanted to scream all the horrible things she’d never gotten the chance to say, to blame him and force an ounce of guilt into his hollow, empty eyes.

  But she knew better.

  Because Malcolm Scott was one of the most powerful titans in the world, and a hunter at that—gifted with enhanced strength, enhanced accuracy, molded from birth to be a warrior. The fact that he was her father wouldn’t stop him from reaching out, grabbing hold, and not letting go. He was taller, physically stronger, and far more cunning than people gave him credit for. If they got into a fight, he’d win. But for all his might, he feared her. Pandora saw it flicker in the depths of his brown eyes, a brief flash of terror.

  Sam had told her as much, but she’d never really understood. He’d whispered in his alluring voice that she was far more powerful than she knew, far more powerful than they’d led her to believe. And for the first time, standing before her father and staring into a worried face that was too blind to see, she was starting to believe Sam was right.

  If I can just keep my damn mouth shut for a few minutes longer.

  “Sir!” came an anxious voice from behind.

  Another titan hunter, she was sure.

  Her father snapped his attention to the side. “We need to find her. Now.”

  The two of them raced from the room, completely unaware that the target they searched for was right there for the taking, not even a foot away.

  Pandora watched them leave, smug and victorious as she flipped her father’s keycard between her fingers. I didn’t even need the shadows for that part, she mused. I perfected the art of pickpocketing a long time ago, all thanks to dear old Dad for giving me a reason to run away and fend for myself at the age of fifteen.

  Another alarm blared, jarring Pandora from her thoughts. She turned away from the door her father had disappeared through and scanned the keycard through the security panel outside of Naya’s cell, relieved when the glass shifted. The locks on this floor ran on a different security system, one Pandora hadn’t figured out how to breach, which was why she’d needed her father’s card. She’d taken a gamble that it had access. And luckily, it did.

  When the glass melted away, sinking completely into the floor, Naya didn’t move. The medium was mumbling inaudibly, feet crossed, palms resting peacefully on her lap, eyes rolled into the back of her head, unaware of the world.

  “You ready for a one-way trip to freedom?” Pandora interrupted her chant.

  Naya blinked, and her glowing amber irises returned to their proper spot as she leapt to her feet in an impossibly fluid movement and stepped out of the now-open cell.

  “You’ve got to show me how you do that,” Pandora murmured.

  Her partner smiled, teeth a little longer and sharper than they’d been the day before. “Some things can’t be taught.”

  Okay, medium my ass. What the heck are you? Pandora thought, curiosity on high. But there’d be time for that later. Right now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

  “Are the vamps in position?” she asked instead.

  “They’re on their way.”

  Pandora could sense the gleam in her eye, that twinkling spark hinting at mischief, as she said, “Then it’s on to phase three. Follow me.”

  Chapter Six

  They raced from the hall, through the door, and up a staircase at the end of the next corridor. Naya flew in front, flinging all the doors open just in case any of the security feeds had come back online. They wanted Pandora’s location to remain a secret for as long as possible, and she was hoping that with everything else going on, it would take her father a while before he realized his card was missing.

  The sixth floor was teeming with titans.

  Luckily for them, it was also teeming with escapees.

  The place was a madhouse. Everywhere they looked, people were fighting. Titan hunters were wrestling convicts back into their cells. Trackers were trying to sniff out the inmates they knew were the worst. Humans used stun guns and rubber bullets, trying to help bring the supernaturals down from a distance. Roars echoed across stone, reverberating and growing louder. Technicians knelt over electric panels, working to get the locks back in place. And though the plan was to sneak through unseen, reality had another thing coming.

  Not two steps from the top of the stairs, a hunter launched at Naya.

  She ducked, crouching and rolling, then kicked up with her feet at the precise moment to send the titan flying. The girl smacked into a wall, cracking the stone, and charged again.

  “Not one of your friends, I hope,” Naya muttered, curling her upper lip and flashing teeth at the approaching titan.

  “Do your worst,” Pandora replied, pressing into the wall, attempting to stay out of the way. Naya could handle it, so Pandora scanned while her accomplice continued to rough up her attacker, slashing with sharp fingernails that were starting to resemble claws.

  Thirty seconds later, the girl was down, bleeding in a way titans shouldn’t. But Pandora didn’t have time to question the sight, to wonder why the girl wasn’t healing as quickly as she was supposed to.

  Instead, she pushed the thought away and whispered, “Where’s our army?”

  Naya’s amber irises flashed, slipping back to reveal the whites of her eyes as she mumbled incoherently under her breath. A moment later, they slid back into place. “They’re on their way. They’re close.”

  “Then come on.” Pandora grabbed Naya’s hand and tugged her along the wall, slipping through the fights. But as a duo that was only half-invisible, remaining out of sight was impossible. Ten more feet down the hall, they were struck.

  “Crap!” Pandora cursed when a rubber bullet pierced the thin veil of her shadows and lodged itself in her shoulder. Another hit her thigh, sending her to her knees even as it bounced off her hard titan muscles, digging in deeper than it should have. “That hurts!”

  Beside her, Naya roared, a guttural sound.

  Pandora spun just in time to s
ee the metal pins land on her friend’s exposed bicep, shocking her with electric bolts and sending her twitching body to the ground. She ripped the Taser wires off, not concerned about being seen as red marks burst to life on Naya’s skin. Not as bad as titan bolters, but not fun either.

  Naya’s mouth moved silently. Her pupils had disappeared again.

  And a moment later, their army had arrived.

  Vampires lunged at the two humans who’d tried to corner Naya, ripping into their throats and sucking out enough blood to render them useless before tossing the bodies to the ground. Something in Pandora cringed as she watched the scene unfold, her own teeth tingling as she remembered that feeling. But there was no time for regret, for questioning, for memories. Eight other vamps rounded the corner, flying into the scene, and all ten stood stock-still before Naya, waiting for orders.

  “Let’s go,” the girl said, gaze still milky white and vacant. Naya had told Pandora to expect this, that she would be looking through eyes that weren’t her own, so Pandora reached out, clutched her friend’s arm, and dragged her down the corridor that would lead them to the next level up.

  The vampires were their shield, their fighting arm, the one supernatural creature titans couldn’t beat. Because only a conduit could truly take a vamp down—Pandora had learned that the hard way. Even cured, she remembered the scorching lick of those flames against her undead skin.

  But in this prison, with no conduits in sight, vampires were the perfect weapon. Hunters and trackers could do little more than trap or slow a vampire down, and in the lower levels of the prison, Pandora expected they’d be the main obstacle. The other titan fighters could do more large-scale damage, but they usually needed to be outside aboveground—it was one of their greatest weaknesses. Bolters needed to reach up to the sky to craft their storms. Tridents needed access to water in order to manipulate it. Quakers couldn’t shift the earth if it wasn’t right below their feet. Not everyone knew that, but Pandora did. Because before they’d turned their back on her, she’d been one of them. She knew everything about the titans, everything except the one secret that mattered most—what the heck she was.