“Taken?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “By who? Why?”
“You’re so full of s—” Bruno starts.
“Help!” someone yells. It’s a man’s voice, but I don’t recognize it.
I stop mid-drink and look around as everyone goes silent. Zeus’s ears stand up, and he cocks his head sideways.
“Someone help me!” the voice yells.
“Who is that?” Bruno asks Bill.
Bill gives him a sheepish grin. “Oh, I totally forgot about that guy. I don’t know him, so that makes me not like him,” he says.
Bruno brings his gun up and shoves it against Bill’s temple. His lips turn down, and he narrows his eyes. “I don’t trust you, man,” Bruno says.
“Who is it?” Cole asks. He’s standing now, his shoulders tense and his eyes ablaze. Bill doesn’t answer. He just gulps more of his pungent drink. “Tell us now.”
“I think it’s a guard, if I remember correctly … He’s got a very nice uniform on.”
“Tell me you didn’t bring a guard down here,” Cole says.
“I’m not the enemy!” the voice says. It echoes off the walls and around the large room.
We all look at one another, unsure of what to do next.
“Bill,” I say. “Where is he?”
“I’ll show you, but don’t panic, because I don’t know who he is.”
“Let’s go,” Bruno says. “Now.”
Bill reluctantly stands up with Bruno’s gun centered on him. He pats his pants and shrugs his shoulders. When he begins walking, he stumbles and swerves.
“I’m about to confiscate your bottle, old man,” Cole threatens.
“No, no, anything but that,” Bill says. “I’ll do anything you say.”
He stands in front of the large metal door that leads into the hallway and past the women’s communal shower area. If it weren’t for the voice pleading to be free on the other side, the thought of a shower would thrill me.
“Please, let me out of here,” the voice says.
Bruno stares at Bill. Bill stares at Bruno. It’s a standoff.
Grace sighs, gun trained on the door, awaiting instructions from Bruno. Cole looks to Bruno, and the two exchange some kind of guy-guard-macho look. Bruno turns back to Bill and gives him the stare of death.
“We better not be walking into a trap, you drunk fool.” Bruno pushes his weapon against Bill’s head again.
Finally, Bill rolls his eyes and turns the knob. When Bruno pushes open the door, Zeus tears through it, disappearing into the hallway.
“Do you have no control over that dog at all?” Bruno asks Cole.
“You asked to see the captive. Remember that, if he’s dangerous, it’s not my fault,” Bill says. He leans against the doorframe, his eyes rolling in his head. “So here goes nothing.”
“Who’s there?” the man asks in a shaky voice.
I flip on the light.
Oh my God.
Sitting in the hallway, duct-taped to a wooden chair, is a man. He’s been blindfolded. Just looking at the large shiner on his head makes mine throb. His chin quivers. His knuckles are bloodied and dirty. I push Bill aside as I file into the hallway to get a better look at him. That’s no guard. On his dark blue uniform is the United Powers emblem, right on the collar.
“What the hell, Bill! You’re holding a monitor hostage?”
“A what?” he asks. He stumbles into the space to my right. “He’s a computer monitor?”
“Oh hell.” Cole lowers his gun, whips out his knife, and immediately begins cutting the blindfold and restraints away from the man.
“He came down here, and I don’t know him. People I don’t know make me very nervous and on edge.”
“Bill, a monitor is a person the United Powers sent to help us,” I say, pushing him aside. “He’s not a guard.”
As the man is freed, he flexes his wrists and fingers. He blinks several times, revealing dark blue eyes that if you weren’t close enough, you’d think were black. He clenches his jaw and stares at us, seemingly unsure of what to do.
“Were there any other monitors who came with you?” Bruno asks. The man seals his lips while evaluating Bruno, who’s appearance would be enough to intimidate anyone.
“Hey, slow down a minute, give the man some water and a second to breathe before you jump down his throat,” Grace says.
I hand her a bottle, and she gives it to the monitor, who hesitantly takes it. He drinks it slowly, never taking his eyes off us.
“Thank you,” he says to Grace. His voice comes out raspy.
“Now … answer my questions,” Bruno says.
The man clears his throat. “How did you know there were others with me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“We just assumed someone as important as you wouldn’t have come to a place like this alone,” I say. His eyes rest on me, on my brand, and then he focuses on my eyes.
“I’m not sure if anyone else made it,” he says. “We were shot at, the lot of us. Somehow, I found a way down here.”
“So that’s it? You could very well be the only monitor that’s left. And from the looks of things, if Wilson finds out you’re still alive, he’ll try to kill you too.” Cole’s words are harsh, but they about sum up what’s happening. The little hope that sparked inside me when I saw this man’s United Powers emblem vanishes.
I’m suspicious and hopeful and scared as I stare at the monitor who survived the attack. There are a million things I want to ask him, but I don’t know where to start. He could be the key to our future.
Before I can get my thoughts together, Grace asks, “So how on earth did you manage to survive?”
“As soon as the others around me started falling to gunfire, I fell to the ground and pretended to be dead. Once they had us in a pile, I slowly made my way out. When no one was watching, I took off down the nearest alley.”
“Wow, that’s brave of you,” Grace says, despite the skeptical look on her face.
“I didn’t have many options,” he says, his lips forming a wry smile.
Bill starts pacing in circles, making my headache worse.
“So are you going to tell us what we need to know, or are we going to have to beat it out of you?” Bruno steps forward, his frame menacing the strange dignitary, who winces under Bruno’s intense stare. “What’s your connection to all of this? Why should we care you’re alive or, better yet, why should we keep you that way?”
The man winces again, leans back, and then looks away.
“I suggest you start talking,” Cole says.
The monitor looks to Cole. “My name is Roméo; I’m a monitor. After the revolt, Sutton managed to get some sensitive information to the United Powers. It was enough to grab their attention.”
“What kind of information?” Grace asks.
“All I know is there were some images, documents, and a little video footage,” Roméo says. He shifts positions. I can’t tell if the questions or his bruises are causing his discomfort.
“So … that’s what was on the disk?” Bruno asks.
“What disk?” Cole asks, turning his attention to Bruno.
“During the revolt, Sutton told me he had to get to the control room, that he needed to download something. Huh, it all makes sense now,” Bruno says. “Man, he’s good.”
“So they got the disk,” Cole says. “Why’d it take them so damn long to send you here?”
“Because the United Powers are not about to put other countries at risk, or possibly spark another world war unless they have good reason to.”
“You mean to tell me that wasn’t enough for them?” Bruno asks.
“Unfortunately, no. But the United Powers have suspicions that something more’s happening, something greater, something that can change everything.”
“Oh, great. Like what?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Now that is exactly what we’re hoping to figure out.”
By now, a new anxiety is spreading through
my veins. What is happening? And what could possibly be so bad that it could change everything?
“You know Wilson loves torture. He might be torturing Sutton,” Bill says, suddenly stopping his frantic pacing.
Cole gets in Bill’s face and practically spits as he says, “These comments of yours aren’t helping matters, and you’re really starting to piss me off.”
“You don’t like to hear the truth?”
“Oh, hell, I’m done.” Cole spins around and walks back to his pack. He takes out some duct tape and heads toward Bill. “Don’t make me tape your mouth shut.”
“Hey, what’s our next step?” Bruno interrupts. “This guy doesn’t seem to know all that much of anything. A complete waste of energy.” Bruno looks from Cole, to Grace, and then to me. He relaxes his stance.
“Lexi and I will gather supplies,” Cole says. “Then we’ll head back out.”
“I’ll keep an eye on Bill,” Bruno says.
“And I’ll make sure Roméo gets something to eat,” Grace says. She gently touches her stomach and then gives me a smile.
“Okay, then let’s gets started,” I say. But before we can part ways, Bill stops us.
“I’ve stockpiled some of the good stuff in the closet of the training room.”
“Got it,” Cole says, moving quickly out of Bill’s grasp.
Bill reaches for me, but Cole knocks his hand away and pulls me with him.
“But beware, not everything down here’s safe and secure,” Bill calls from behind us.
“Thanks,” I say over my shoulder.
Cole picks up his pack, throws it on, and dusts his hands off on the sides of his pants. He takes my hand, and we intertwine our fingers. His skin, no matter how many times I feel it against mine, instantly causes my heart to jump.
In the hallway and out of view, we stop for a moment.
“Hey,” Cole says. “You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just trying to wrap my head around everything.” I stretch on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. Cole smiles before touching his lips to mine. He brushes my cheek with his thumb, and I close my eyes, soaking in the feeling.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier,” he says. I step away from him, taking in his earnest eyes and serious face.
“It’s okay. We can talk about it as soon as we’re done here.”
He gives me a half smile and then opens the door to the training room. The smell of gun cleaner permeates the air as Cole opens the closet. Four rows of shelves wrap around the entire closet. I run my fingers over the cool, smooth black pistol closest to me. Picking it up, I release the magazine and place it on the table that stands in the center of the training room. Sliding back the chamber, I check to make sure there’s no bullet inside. It’s empty. I grip the pistol and wrap my fingers around it. Like a glove, it fits perfectly. It’s strange to me how comfortable I’ve become handling guns. Of course, Keegan taught me safety always comes first; you must treat every gun as if it’s already loaded, otherwise accidents happen. Searching the closet, I manage to find four more magazines that go with the pistol.
Cole checks out the big guns. He finds one and gingerly pulls it off the rack. He runs his hands over it like it’s a rarity.
“This’ll do the job,” he says with a slight smile.
“I don’t think I’ve seen it before,” I say.
“I’m surprised Bill has one; it’s an M4.” Cole carries it with such confidence, like it’s a part of his body. He flips it over, slowly, checking every inch of the weapon, making sure there’s nothing missing or any visible damage. I watch as his head nods with quiet admiration.
“Bill’s done a pretty good job keeping the weapons in good condition.”
“So it appears,” I say.
While he examines my gun, I walk around the table and look for anything else we might need. In a container at the end of one shelf are two different kinds of hand grenades. I’ve never handled grenades before, but I carefully grab one of each and weigh them in my hands. One’s heavy and slim. The other is rounder and weighs less. Either way, I can’t help but wonder how something so small can cause such a large explosion.
“Do you think these are worth taking?” I ask.
Cole spins around, sets down my gun, and looks at me. His forehead scrunches up, and his eyes flicker. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you handling grenades. Have you used one before?”
“Well, no. But it can’t be that complicated. You pull the pin … and throw it. Fast.”
“Uh-huh, then what?”
I stop and think for a minute while chewing my bottom lip. “Run the other way?”
“Then yes, take some. But remember to protect them like you would your gun. If someone gets their hands on one, they can pull the pin, and blow you both to pieces.”
“Won’t happen.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“Because Wilson wants me alive, and blowing me away defeats that purpose.”
“True, but not every guard is going to follow orders, and the crazy Sinners won’t always either.”
I instinctively rub the brand around my neck and lower my eyes.
“Lexi, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … ” His voice trails off, and he steps forward.
I put my hand out in front of me. “It’s fine. Let’s not lose focus.” I swallow hard, blink back a tear, and continue examining weapons. “Is there really a difference between them?” I ask, pointing at the grenades.
Cole cocks his head to the right while picking one up. “One’s offensive, meant to kill just by the concussion. The lighter one’s more defensive, used to throw from a covering position.”
“I’ll take the lighter one. I think that’s best, right?”
“It’s your call. I trust your judgment.”
“Wait, what? Did I hear you correctly?” I ask, cocking my head and smiling at him. “Seriously? You trust me now?”
“Yeah, but trusting and accepting are two very different things.”
Cole’s lips part as he moves toward me. He wraps his arms around my waist, hoisting me onto the table. He parts my legs and stands between them, rubbing his hands up my thighs toward my hipbones. I suck in my bottom lip and hold it down with my teeth. He’s only inches away from me now, and he touches his forehead to mine. He takes my face between his hands and brings my mouth to his. His mouth trembles against mine as he kisses me. I lock my arms around his back, pulling him in closer. Cole’s passionate and gentle. This moment feels different somehow from before in the tent. Still, my stomach flutters, and my pulse accelerates. I want him glued to me. Then, without warning, he stops. His eyes are closed, but his face is pained. He strokes my cheeks with the outside of his fingers and furrows his brow.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
He doesn’t answer me.
“Okay, I think we need to talk now.” Reaching up, I touch his face, and again, he freezes.
At first, he says nothing, and his eyes remain glued shut. He takes a long, loud, deep breath before releasing it. The air rushes past my face, moving my hair, and I twitch. I smell the mint on his breath from the leaves he puts in his water. My stomach’s turning into knots. I’m lost, confused, and can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling. My legs start shaking. What’s he doing?
“Cole, say something … You’re scaring me.”
He shakes his head and clenches his jaw before slowly opening his eyes. He stares at my legs for a moment before glancing up at my face.
“Now’s not the time.”
“If not now, then when?”
“I don’t know.”
“Whatever you’re keeping from me isn’t going to change the way I feel about you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“It’s from your past, before we even met. How could it possibly—”
“Because it will. Okay?” He glances at the floor and steps away from me.
“Do you know how hard it was for m
e to open up to you, to be vulnerable? I told you things I swore never to tell anyone. I was ashamed and humiliated. Yet, I still took the leap and let it all out there.
“Cole, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that sometimes secrets hurt more than the truth. And right now you’re really hurting me.”
Just then, there’s a knock on the door. Cole walks away from me to open it. Grace is there with her arms wrapped around herself, her lower lip trembling. The way she looks melts the smile off my face.
“Hey,” I say. “Do you need me?”
“Actually, I do. Would you mind walking to the bathroom with me?”
“Sure. Let me grab my stuff.” I put my gun in its holster.
“I’ll get your extra magazines,” Cole says.
“This isn’t over,” I say before walking into the hallway to meet Grace.
She’s staring at the floor. Her shoulders are slumped, and she fiddles with her fingers. I loop my arm with hers and try to hide the burning pain deep in my chest. Grace needs me. Whatever secret Cole has been keeping can certainly wait another few minutes.
“Come on, it’s this way,” I say.
Nothing much has changed down here in the underground. It still feels like a dungeon in some spots. Deep down, I keep hoping Keegan’s just around the next corner. As we pass his room, I can still feel him. I hope he’s proud of me.
I’m not a fan of dead silence, especially when there’s tension in the air. And right now, between Grace and Cole, it’s suffocating. I hum to myself to keep from focusing on the bad.
When we reach the bathroom, I open and hold the door for Grace. I release it, and it closes with a click. Grace jumps. I flick on the switch next to the door and hope the lights work properly. Everything seems a little more rundown without the maintenance people.
Grace doesn’t walk to the bathroom stalls; she doesn’t even look at the showers. I could really use a shower right now. All she does is cross her arms, uncross her arms, and cross them again. My mouth feels dry, and I have a strong sense that whatever’s going on isn’t good. But I can’t take the static between us anymore.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
She runs her hands through her hair, and tears spill over her eyes. She steps back, leaning against the wall for support.