Pieces (Patchwork #1)

by T. Aleo

  Listening closely, I don’t hear anyone, and I slowly step out, walking with purpose toward my father’s lab. I figure I’ll try there first. Father should be back soon, which means I only have a couple days to figure this out. To free Ryland. As I head down the stairs, my heart aches. I’m going to free him, and then what?

  Would he run? Of course, he would run. I mean, what’s there to stay here for? Me? Please. The kiss from last night was just us feeling nostalgic, missing what we had. Nothing could ever come of it. No matter how much I wish it could. Not that it matters, because he has to go. He also couldn’t stay here unless he shifted into someone else, and I’m sure that’s not how he wants to live his life. Plus, if someone found out, that would probably be worse than him just being him.

  Messy. So messy.

  I turn down a hall and see the first guard. My heart kicks into gear, but he just looks up, nods, and then goes back to his phone as I pass by. All I can think is if Christiana had shifted into anyone, he would be the guy she needed to make sure was guarding me. Chills run down my spine; I really need to talk to my father about upping the security around here. After I find the keys and free Ryland, that is.

  As I turn down another hall, another guard greets me with a curt nod, his eyes not leaving me as I pass by him and around the corner. Still, he asks no questions, and I’m thankful for that. When I see the door to the lab, I pick up my pace, almost running since the coast is clear. Reaching the door, I open it quickly, shutting it just as fast and then falling back into it, wheezing in and out.

  Being a ninja is hard.

  Exhaling deeply, I push off the door and look around frantically. I’m not sure where to start. Not sure where one would hide keys to a dungeon. Also, I’m unsure how much time I have or who may have seen me come in here. Running to the nearest table, I yank open the drawer and look through it feverishly. Nothing. Next drawer, nothing, and even the third one is a fail. Crap. Going to my father’s desk, I open all the drawers, not finding anything. I rifle through the file cabinets, even the closet, and nothing. Not even anything that looks like a key.

  Defeated, I lean against the wall, pulling in a breath as I run my eyes over the room one last time. When my eyes fall on a saw, I pause. Maybe I can cut him out? Can a bone saw go through iron? I should Google that. Pulling my phone out, I do just that and come up with a big fat no. Damn it. This was a gigantic disappointment.

  Letting my head fall back, I push my phone into my pocket and then rush to the door, praying no one is outside it. Opening it slowly, I peek out and let out a sigh of relief when I don’t see anyone. Sliding out the opening I left myself, I shut the door and then hurry down the hall, hoping I don’t look like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to. That I look normal, looking for coffee. On the other side of the house. God, I hope no one tries to talk to me. Turning down another hall, I go up the stairs, taking two at a time before I come to a stop in front of my father’s office door.

  “Ms. von Stein, can I help you?”

  Damn!

  Clearing my throat, I turn slowly, finding a guard walking toward me. The same one from yesterday who asked if I was high. Shit. Shaking my head, I say, “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  And before he can say more, I go inside and shut the door behind me. Leaning against it, I listen as he walks by, his footsteps heavy until he pauses at the door. I wait. Surely he’ll knock or open it, but then he’s moving, his footsteps echoing down the hall. Exhaling a long breath once more, I am certain I’ve never been so stressed in my life.

  Not sure if the guard went looking for Cyrus to tell him I was in here, I rush across the room to my father’s desk. It’s messy. A picture of my brothers and me is front and center. I almost pause, wanting to admire it. It was the day of my ceremony of the Patchwork. Everyone was happy, excited that the last member of the family was immortal. But not me. I faked it because I knew it hadn’t worked. I just couldn’t tell them, not yet. Devastation rang through the house the following morning, and then that started my lockdown.

  Good times.

  Ignoring all that, I open the drawers, quickly moving through them, pushing junk out of the way with the sole purpose of finding a key. But in each drawer, I find nothing. Where in the world could it be? Going to his file cabinet, I search. Nothing. Looking up, I see another cabinet and dart across the room to it, opening it and finding only files on everyone in the Works. While this would be fun reading, I go to close it until I see a name on a file at the front.

  Ryland Kelley.

  Catching the drawer before it slams shut, I reopen it, taking the file and opening it. A picture of a young, baby-faced Ryland looks up at me, the word Dead? written across it. But I see that question mark. As if my father suspected it was a lie. Flipping through the file, I find it’s mostly just general info, stuff I already knew. But as I go to put it back, I notice a piece of paper fall out of the back of the file, landing on the floor.

  Stuffing the file back in its place, I bend down, picking up the paper. It’s a small sheet of stationery, a light gray color with the Kelley family crest at the top. Glancing at the date, I see it’s dated three days before Ryland died. Breathless, I direct my eyes to where my father’s name is written, but then I hear something outside the door.

  Crap.

  Pressing the drawer back in slowly, I lean against it as footsteps come to a halt in front of the door. I hold my breath as I fold the paper, tucking it into my pocket. When I hear voices, Cyrus’s being one of them, I panic, my heart pounding extremely hard as I look around. Should I hide? He probably already knows I’m in here.

  Double crap.

  I’m going to hide.

  I sprint across the room, wanting to go under the desk, when something catches my eye on the bookcase.

  A key!

  A whole lot of keys.

  Holy crap!

  Changing direction, I feel my heart in my throat as I jump onto the table, running across it, papers flying around me. I jump off, slamming into the bookcase. Flinching since that will leave a mark, I grab the keys, stuffing them into my bra as I quickly lean into the bookcase, grabbing the first book I can get my hands on and opening it.

  “Rebekah? What are you doing?” Cyrus says as the door opens, but I keep staring at the page of the book, my heart pounding hard and fast.

  “Just reading,” I croak out, looking up as his face twists with humor.

  “Oh, the sexual habits of creatures?”

  I look down and notice that, in fact, I am reading a book about sex, and the picture on the page shows that werewolves are dirty little creatures.

  Ryland is part werewolf.

  Why did I think that?

  As my face burns, I slam the book closed as I shrug. “Hey, I’m not getting laid, unlike some other people.”

  Cyrus cringes. “Ew. Just ew.”

  I try to giggle, but it comes out more like a sound of distress as I tuck the book back into its spot. When I let my arm fall, the keys dig into my boob, and I wince as I turn slowly. “But it looks like I won’t be getting off since I’ve been interrupted.”

  When he gags, I grin as I walk toward him. “Stop. Please.”

  “Yeah, yeah, excuse me, I’m going back to my room.”

  He doesn’t move, though. “The guard said you’ve been in here a while.”

  I look away, letting out a breath. “Okay, so maybe I did get off once already.”

  “Good Lord. Stop!”

  Laughing now, since it’s very fun to tease my brother, I grin at his beet-red face as he looks everywhere but at me. “Can you please not come in here? No one is allowed in here.”

  “Oh, okay,” I agree, trying to go around him, but he’s blocking the doorway.

  “And why aren’t you asleep?”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “I thought you were.”

  “I woke up, wide awake.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Fine, let’s go work out.”

  “Now?”
<
br />   “Yeah, I guess. Though, I was sleeping.”

  “Well, go finish sleeping. I’ll meet you in there in a few hours. I gotta shower, clean areas, and shave.”

  He winces, shaking his head. “Gross.”

  I flash him a deadpan look. “I have man legs. These things are a bitch to shave.”

  He laughs as he looks down at my legs. “They don’t look hairy,”

  “Wanna feel?” I ask, knowing he’d rather jump off a bridge.

  As I expected, he balks as he blurts out, “Oh, hell no.”

  “Exactly. I need some time.”

  “Fine, meet me around ten.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I say, and I’m relieved when he lets me by.

  Trying not to run, I head toward my room, climbing the stairs, but when I see Cyrus go the other way, I do take off running. Reaching my room, I throw open the door and dig the keys out of my bra. They don’t look as old as I want them to, but maybe the locks have been modernized?

  Feeling as though maybe these aren’t the keys, I throw them on my bed and stare at them. They are Ryland’s freedom. I’ll probably never see him again. I shouldn’t be this sad. Tears shouldn’t be welling up in my eyes, but they are. I don’t want to say good-bye again, but I won’t let him spend another moment down there. Digging out the backpack I had stuffed with food from the Clandestine last night, I glance at the mirror.

  I had already taken a shower and shaved earlier. I’d just said that to get out of working out so I could go down to the bastille. But now, I’m unsure if I want to wear shorts. Looking over at the mirror, my legs look big, strong, and I really don’t want to wrestle my way into a pair of leggings. I want to get down to Ryland.

  But what if he thinks my legs are disgusting?

  I’m wasting time. Grabbing my bag, I stuff the keys inside and slide into my tennis shoes, making sure to grab a flip-flop for the door. I make my way to the kitchen, and no one really pays me any mind. I’m thankful I don’t see Cyrus at all. When I reach the kitchen, I notice the cooks have laid out breakfast. Sliding my backpack off my shoulder, I open it and stuff all the bagels, muffins, butter, and jam into my bag. I go to reach for the bottles of orange juice, but I know those are for Cyrus, and he’ll freak if they aren’t down here when he comes, so I take the bottles of water. Wrapping bacon up in some napkins, I shove a few pieces in my mouth before shutting my bag and throwing it over my shoulders. I then reach for a handful of pancakes, cramming them in my mouth too before going back to the hall that houses the door to the bastille.

  Like I did the other day, after making sure no one was coming, I open the door and slowly lower myself down. When my feet hit the ground, I head toward the boys, instead of going right back to Ryland. When they see me, their faces light up.

  “Rebekah!”

  “Hey, guys.” I grin before I quickly dispense the food I’ve just taken to each of them.

  “This is too much,” Mr. Grun says graciously, his eyes almost full of tears, and I throw him a grin.

  “Never. I refuse to not make sure you guys are eating. Now eat.”

  Mr. Grun smiles as Micha clears his throat. “Rebekah, you’re too good to us.”

  I shrug as I finish handing Reggia his portion of the food. As I watch for a second while they stuff their faces, I don’t think I’m doing enough. They are obviously starving, and bless them, they look downright pathetic. This is what happens when you’re down here too long. I can’t let that happen to Ryland.

  “Your father will be upset if he finds out,” Mr. Grun reminds me, and I shrug.

  “I don’t care. You need to eat,” I say, my throat tightening with emotion. They are all going to die down here. The limbs they have are already decaying, and my father needs to fix that. He has to. “I’m going to talk to him about getting down here to help you guys out.”

  Reggia looks up, hopeful, as Mr. Grun and Micha both eat quickly. “Thank you, Rebekah.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say, my heart breaking for them. I know they are criminals and all that, but they are good people. They just made bad decisions. I clear my throat. “I gotta head out. I just wanted to sneak this down to you guys.”

  Mr. Grun and Micha start to complain, but Reggia laughs before saying, “Or you’re going to sneak down to see that guy you were looking for before.”

  I eye him, a grin pulling at my lips. “Maybe.”

  He laughs. “You’ll get in trouble, girl.”

  “I’ll worry about that,” I say as I slide my backpack up my arms. But as I turn, I notice a box between each of the cells. Scrunching up my face, I ask, “What’s that?”

  “The locks,” Micha says around stuffing bacon in his mouth.

  Going toward it, I flip it open to see a keypad. “So it’s not a key to get in?”

  Reggia scoffs. “They haven’t used keys in centuries, Rebekah.”

  Well, that would have been nice to know maybe a freaking hour ago.

  Damn it!

  When I get to the hallway that leads to Ryland, a part of me still has hope that maybe they haven’t modernized his cell.

  That his still needs a key.

  Pushing open the door, I see him move as I light the lantern and shut the door behind me. I expect him to look like hell. He’s in jail, but even with a sheen of sweat, he is still gorgeous, vibrant, as if being in a cell hasn’t fazed him a bit. But I guess that’s Ryland. Nothing ever really gets him riled up.

  Well, except me.

  Anything that has to do with me gets Ryland good and riled up.

  Nothing proves that more than the desperation in his voice as he leans into the bars, his eyes on me. “Bekka, what are you doing here so soon? You gotta be careful. Anyone could be anywhere.”

  I ignore him, coming to his cell quickly, but I don’t even need all the light to see the box at the top right corner of his cell. He watches me as I reach up and flip open the box. A keypad taunts me. Deflated, I let my shoulders fall as tears start to sting my eyes, my chin dropping to my chest. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  I shake my head, but then something occurs to me. Glancing up, I’m hopeful as I ask, “You can’t shift into a rat or something and go through the bars?”

  He scoffs. “Like you, I assumed that, since I’m a hybrid, I could shift into anything. But nope. The only animal I can shift into is a wolf, and I tried that, but these bars are strong.”

  He gestures to the wall where big claw marks have been added to the beautiful décor of his cell. Even along the bars are marks and dings, yet he wasn’t able to get out.

  “Well, crap,” I say, and I can feel his gaze on me as I blow out a long breath. I bend over, setting the lantern down before I get his food out. I feel like a failure. I thought I was going to get him out, but now I have to figure out the code. The problem is, I haven’t even the closest clue what it could be. I bet it would be in my father’s office, though. In the file cabinet.

  But after my little stunt today, I’m sure it’s on serious lockdown now.

  “Double crap,” I mutter as I start setting the food at his feet, my mind going a billion miles a second. When he crouches down too, I don’t look up. I failed him, and I can’t stand to admit that.

  He reaches out, his hands warm against my face, and I can’t help but smile. I remember a while back when Killian grabbed my face, the warmth. How did I not realize he wasn’t a vampire? That he was actually Ryland? I could have had more time with him. I could have made sure this didn’t happen. Gosh, this is such a freaking mess. Leaning into his hand, I let out a breath.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, his thumbs moving ever so slowly along my jaw. “Tell me.”

  My next breath comes out in a harsh sigh as I look up. “I got a set of keys that I assumed were the ones to get you out. I was wrong. These are digital locks. I need a code.”

  I point up to the keypad, but his dark eyes are trained on mine, his thumbs moving along my skin in such a hypnotic way. “I see that. I’m so
rry you got your hopes up.”

  “It isn’t your fault,” I mumble as I set the last bagel down before covering his hands with mine. “It’s mine.”

  He shakes his head hard. “I told you I will get out. You don’t have to help.”

  I roll my eyes. “’Cause you’re doing such a great job with that.”

  He smiles, his lips curving so devilishly at the sides. “Now, no, I’m failing at every turn, but someone will come down to re-question me, to bring me to your father. And when they do, I’ll shift and escape.”

  Sounds like a solid plan, but my face scrunches up. “What if you hurt them?”

  He shrugs. “Minor details. I have to get out of here. I have to make sure that no one comes for you.”

  Pulling out of his grasp, I eye him. “What if it’s my brothers? Samuel?” I ask, my heart in my throat. “I don’t want them to be hurt.”

  “Fine. I won’t hurt them.”

  My eyes narrow. “Can you control your wolf form?”

  He looks away and nods. “Sorta.”

  “So, no,” I deadpan because it’s general knowledge wolves can’t control themselves. They’re savage animals, but maybe as a hybrid, he can.

  Though, when he looks back at me, a boyish look to his rough features, I know he can’t. “Not really.”

  “Then, no. You can’t hurt them.”

  “If it comes down to hurting them to make sure you are okay, then I’m apologizing now, ’cause I’ll kill anyone for you.”

  I lose my breath at the intensity in his eyes. At the pure devotion he has for me. I believe him, I do, but I refuse to allow my family to be hurt.

  No, I’ll get him out.

  My nails bite into my palms from clenching my hands so hard, and my next words come out sternly. “I’m gonna find the code.”

  Before the words even leave my mouth, he is shaking his head. “No, I need you to take cover. Stay low. Please don’t make me ask you again.”

  “Please don’t make me ignore your wants again,” I throw back, and his eyes narrow. “I am going to free you, Ryland, and when I do, I want to make sure that no one gets hurt in the process.”