by Naomi Martin
“You two,” a harsh man’s voice says. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Gray asserts.
Immediately, he doubles over with a loud groan as the guard slams the butt of his rifle into his midsection. He gasps for air and when Elliot steps over to Gray, he too is slammed in the gut. I watch as the guards grab two of the men I love by the collars of their shirts and drag them out of the room.
I jump to my feet and am about to scream at them when Sherman steps into the doorway. My blood turns to ice and my stomach roils inside of me as the big pig of man leers at me, licking his lips like I’m some piece of meat he can’t wait to sink his teeth into. He steps into my cell, leaning against the wall just inside the door with his hands in his pockets.
“Big changes comin’ ‘round here, little girl,” he says.
“Tell me something,” I start. “Did you have the balls to kill Keene yourself? Or did you farm it out to one of your fucking toadies?”
His smile grows wider and he nods. “Nah, I did it m’self,” he says, and the admission surprises me. “Enjoyed every second of endin’ that pretentious prick. And believe me, little girl, I made sure there were lots of seconds. That man’s agony dragged on for a long, long time.”
“You’re a sick fuck,” I hiss.
He shrugs. “Maybe. But that makes me a sick fuck who’s in charge of this prison,” he points out, staring at me meaningfully. “And of your life.”
“I’d rather die than let you put your filthy hands on me.”
He chuckles to himself. “Oh, you gonna die. Nothin’ gonna change that,” he says. “Question is, how are you gonna spend the days you got from now to then? You wanna be comfortable? Well fed? You want to live an easy life? Or do you want to spend your days in misery? You want to feel all the agony Keene felt at the end?”
“After all this time, we’re right back here again,” I say. “You have plenty of girls willing to give you whatever you want in here. Why are you so obsessed with me? It’s freakish.”
He grins. “You’re the only girl in here who won’t give me what I want,” he says. “Gotta admit, as big of a pain in the ass as you are, it kinda turns me on. The more you fight, the more I want a piece.”
“So, if I just lay back and let you take what you want, you’ll get bored and leave me alone?”
He laughs salaciously. “Didn’t say that neither. Nah, pretty little piece like you?” he starts. “I don’t think I’d get tired of hittin’ that for a while.”
I fold my arms over my belly and try to hold back my nausea. This man is disgusting on so many levels, and I’ve got half a mind to channel my power and incinerate him where he stands. But if I give into that lust for revenge, I know I’ll be signing the death warrants for Zane, Elliot, and Gray. I need to keep that in mind and focus on the big picture.
Let Sherman win the small battle here. I’m going to win the fucking war.
“C’mon,” he says. “I want you to see somethin’.”
“What?”
“Out here. Now,” he says. “Or I swear to God I’ll drag you out by your hair, girl.”
Reluctantly, I follow him out to the common area, terrified by what I might see. I’m scared I’m going to see Sherman do to my boys what Villa did to Ken. He stops me just outside my door and I see everybody sitting on the ground in the middle of the common area, their hands on their heads. Sherman’s men stand in a circle around the group, weapons trained on them.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice trembling.
Sherman walks to the edge of the circle and turns back to me, a wide smile on his face.
“We’ve got a special event tonight,” he says. “We’re gonna have ourselves a tournament. A good, old-fashioned gladiator fight.”
He lets his gaze linger on me for a minute then turns back to the group on the floor and starts to tap some people on the head as he passes. I feel my heart flutter when he taps Zane, Gray, and then Elliot. A wave of nausea passes through me; I know what’s going to happen next.
“If I tapped you on the head, get to your feet,” Sherman calls out. “Now, ladies.”
Confused and exchanging glances, they all stand up, perhaps terrified they’re about to be gunned down. Gray, though, looks grim. He knows what this is.
“Shackle these animals and take them to the trucks,” Sherman orders.
The guards move in and start attaching the shackles, chaining them all to each other. Once that’s done, they get the line moving, and I watch helplessly as my boys are marched out of the common area. Before they disappear through the door, each of them turns and looks at me, as if they’re saying goodbye. But all three give me a look of encouragement, their gazes intense, as if making sure I knew they all loved and believed in me.
As the door closes behind them, my heart shatters into a million pieces. I’m left alone in the prison without the men I love as they’re taken out to the fighting pits. I feel weak and lightheaded, fear for them coursing through me.
Sherman steps in front of me and gives me a feral smile that shakes me to my core. “Hurts to see ‘em go, don’t it?”
“They’ll win their fights,” I hiss. “And they’ll be back here before you know it.”
He scoffs. “Wouldn’t bet the farm on that, girl,” he says. “See, I got a special fight in mind for them. I’m gonna do somethin’ real nice.”
“What are you talking about?”
He chuckles. “Let’s just say you ain’t never gonna see them boys again,” he says. “They’re already good as dead; they just don’t know it yet.”
The ice flowing through my veins turns to fire and I glare at Sherman. He’s fixed their fights. He’s going to kill them. All three of them. Fear washes through me and I grit my teeth.
“I figure, you take the farmers who’re plowin’ this here fine field,” Sherman says, his eyes sliding up and down my body salaciously, “and it’ll be easier to pluck the crops.”
“You’re a fucking pig,” I say. “And you are going to pay for this.”
He shrugs. “So you say,” he replies. “But without your bodyguards, you’re a lot more vulnerable, ain’t ya?”
He chuckles as he turns and walks away, leaving me standing alone outside my cell. As I watch him pass through the door and out of the common area, I’ve never felt more afraid in my life. It’s a fear so strong, it nearly paralyzes me. But it’s not fear for me. I’m afraid for my boys.
I cut a look around at the rest of the prisoners standing in the common area and see confusion and fear on their faces, as if they don’t know what’s going on. They just don’t see the big picture yet. But I do. And I need to do something to stop it. I may not like these people, but they don’t deserve to die in this cage.
And my boys, the men I love with every shred of my being, don’t deserve to die in that fighting pit for the amusement and greed of Captain Sherman.
I step back into my cell and close the door, then sit down on my bed and close my eyes. If I’m going to stop this, I need to get to work. I need to figure this out.
And I need to do it now.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Raven
I can see through the viewing slit in my cell that night has fallen. The lighting is on in the common area, though when I step out of my cell, tired and hungry, I see most of the space is still cloaked in shadow and gloom. As I cross the hall, I feel the heavy, oppressive weight from Clint’s friends, but I lift my chin and ignore it.
His friends all glare at me as if they think this is all my fault. They whisper their hatred of me behind their hands as if I don’t hear it. I don’t care what any of them thinks. They can hate me all they want. No matter how they feel about me, though, I’ll get them out of here. I’ll set them free when the boys and I go, because they don’t deserve to spend their lives in cages just because they’re different. Because they’re special.
And I think I’m just about there. I think I’m almost ready to do this, to ge
t us all out of here, them and the boys. But I need some fuel, working with so much energy has left me feeling depleted and weak. And it’s because of this fucking collar.
I walk into the cafeteria, load up on food, and take it back to my cell. I don’t want to be in the common area tonight. I have too much to do, and I can’t afford to waste time on another brawl.
Sitting at my desk, I eat quickly, going over everything in my mind again and again. The weak point in my plan right now is how to find them. I’ve never been to the fighting pit, so I can’t visualize it. For all I know, I’m going to travel straight into a brick wall. It’s a thought that sends a shudder through me.
And that’s the biggest problem I have right now.
Having spent the entire afternoon in silence, working with my energy, I think I’ve finally worked out how to disable and destroy my collar. But I don’t know how I’m going to find them, and that has me on the verge of tears.
“Suck it up, Raven,” I scold myself. “No time for tears. Work it out.”
I push my tray away, full and sated, and feel my energy beginning to restore itself. I turn it over in my mind again and again—and that’s when it hits me. I’m so startled by the realization that I sit up suddenly, bumping my desk and sending my tray clattering to the floor.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “That’s it. So fucking simple. How did I not see it before?”
The first time I traveled, it was when I was holding Elliot. I remember feeling safety. Warmth. I remember actually thinking that I hadn’t felt that safe since I was a kid in my parent’s home. And then, poof, I was there. To do this, what I need to do is focus on their love—focus on those pieces of our souls that are bound. If I can fix that in my mind, I should be able to travel straight to them.
“McCabe,” a voice bellows from the common room. “Raven McCabe. Front and center. Dr. Fry wants to see you.”
“What the hell?”
I glance at the clock. She never calls for patients this late in the evening. A dark, greasy tendril of fear wraps itself around me and squeezes me tightly. Something is happening and whatever it is, it’s going to be bad.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I thought I’d have more time. I’m not ready.”
Ready or not, though, this is happening. And it’s happening now.
My shadow-self makes a good point and I get to my feet. Trembling with fear, I take a deep breath and try to clear my mind.
Hurry it up. Time’s short.
“Shut up,” I hiss.
“McCabe, front and center. Now,” the guard’s voice booms. “Do not make me come to your cell and get you.”
I stand in the center of my cell and close my eyes. I clear my mind and focus on the beacons of bright light the boys are in my subconscious. I remember seeing it once. It was clear as day to me. And I just need to find my way back to that point, to those bright, shining beacons.
Heavy bootsteps in the common area distract me and when I open my eyes, I see two men in uniform standing in my doorway. The one looks at me, anger etched on his features.
“Get out here. Let’s go,” he yells at me. “I told you to come, and when I tell you to do something, you do it.”
Fear ripples through me, stronger than ever before, but I stand my ground. I draw my power into me and when the first guard steps through the door and reaches for me, I grab him in a thick thread of energy. I lift him to the ceiling and, just as I did with Clint, I bring him down on his head with a sickening crunch. With visions of Ken’s brains being blown out still fresh in my mind, I raise the guard and bring him down again. And again. I do it once more and his head splits open entirely, brain and matter spilling out in a flood across my cell floor.
Releasing the energy, I let his ruined body drop to the floor with a sickening thump. The other guard stands in the doorway, his eyes wide, his mouth agape, looking at me like he’s completely shell-shocked. Narrowing my eyes, I draw my power into me again.
“No, please,” he cries. “Don’t!”
I snap him up in a tendril of power and float him into the common area. As I walk out of my cell, I hear the gasps of the people around me, some in awe and some in fright. I walk to the very center of the common area, raising the screaming guard as high as I’d raised Clint. And when I’m sure that I have everybody’s attention, I drive him straight into the ground. He hits with a splatter, and the common area goes absolutely silent around me.
“Most of you don’t like me. And I don’t like you,” my voice rings out. “None of that matters. None of us deserves to die in this place. None of us deserves to be Fry’s fucking guinea pig. And none of us deserves to be killed just for being different.”
My words are met with cheers and nods, people pounding on the tables in agreement. I look around and see people staring at me in wide-eyed wonder, not knowing how it is I’m doing this. I grin at them all. They haven’t seen anything yet.
The shrill shriek of an alarm fills the air around us, and I see the fear in everybody’s eyes. The guards will be here soon and, no doubt, they’re coming with absolutely lethal intent. It’s time for the inmates to get a turn running the asylum.
Drawing my power into me, I’m able to quickly separate the threads of energy. It’s become a lot easier over the course of the afternoon. It’s amazing what a great teacher and motivator terror and desperation can be. When I have the thread I want, I charge it up to full capacity and release it—straight into my collar. With an audible pop, the band of metal comes loose and falls to my feet with a loud clatter.
Though the alarm brays in the hall, there’s no other sound as everybody stares at me for a long moment. I’m staring at the collar, though, half in shock that it worked and half in absolute joy and excitement. I finally feel the full depth and breadth of my power as it flows through me, lighting up every single corner of my being. It feels like a missing limb has suddenly grown back and I’m so happy I could cry.
But I know time is short. The alarm continues to sound, and people start calling to me, shouting over one another, begging me to unlock their collars. They crowd around me, pushing and jostling each other in an attempt to get close to me so they can persuade me to release them.
I push them all back with a solid blast of air energy, clearing a good five feet of space around me. They all stare at me for a long moment as I summon the power of spirit. As it fills me, I feel an unfettered sense of joy. I feel lighter than air, like I could float all the way to the moon. As powerful as the other elements are, this one is by far the strongest.
I look around and direct threads of spirit into the collars of everybody in the hall. All around me, I hear the soft popping of collars breaking and the ringing chorus of them raining down onto the floor. The crowd pauses. Nobody says or does anything for a long moment as they touch their necks, suddenly free from the collars for the first time in a long time.
A smile stretching my lips wide, I pump even more spirit energy into the wards that guard this place. Above us, there is a loud snapping sound, and a rain of sparks falls down as the wards shatter.
But then the doors to the common area all open and guards clad in black riot gear come pouring out, weapons in hand and murder in their eyes. It’s pandemonium in the blink of an eye as supernaturals, free to use their power once more, spring into action. The sound of roaring, screaming, and men dying by the score fills the hall.
I move to a corner where it’s dark and I can stand alone. The easy part is over. This prison is finished. The horde of supernaturals will storm the place, destroying everything and settling scores with guards and staff who have done them wrong. I have absolute zero doubt that when the sun rises tomorrow, this place will be nothing but a smoking crater in the ground filled with the bodies of people who, according to government databases, don’t officially exist.
Not my problem.
I close my eyes and draw my power into me. I search the darkness of my mind, probe around every corner and open every door, searching for them. There.
In the distance, I can see the beacons. Three of them, shining bright and beautiful. I draw them in closer to me and stand before them, bathing in their glowing brilliance.
Gritting my teeth, I say a silent word to whoever may be listening, pleading for help. I don’t know if this is even going to work. For all I know, I’m about to shoot myself off into outer space. Or maybe I’ll end up traveling into the side of a mountain.
This is madness, I know. A thousand things could go wrong.
As Elliot likes to say, this is all just a theory right now. But there’s only one way to prove a theory, and that’s to test it. The only certainty I have in my mind right now is that if my boys die in those fighting pits—which they will, if I can’t get to them—I don’t want to live my life without them. If they die, I die.
I focus my energy on the beacons, concentrate on them, and release it…
* * * * *
... and when I open my eyes again, I find myself in a room that’s murky and dim. Shadows pool all around but I see the walls are lined with cages. And the cages are filled with people. The smell of sweat, fear, and violence is thick in the air and beyond the door at the far end of the room, I hear crowds cheering, hissing, and calling for blood.
It’s then I realize that it worked. It actually fucking worked!
Above the din of the crowd beyond the door, I hear the roar of what might be a bear, and fear ripples through me. Gray. It’s probably Gray, fighting the match that Sherman ensured would kill him. I need to get to him quickly. But, knowing I traveled into this room, I have to assume that one of the boys is in here.
I search the cages and the fighters, many of them bloody and broken, stare back at me from behind bars I see are warded. Nobody says anything, they just look at me curiously, as if wondering what I’m doing here. Others, though, look to have been beaten so severely, they’re incapable of thinking, let alone wondering much of anything.