I tried to remember other blows, but I could only recall that woman punching me once. Yet that one punch had come close to fracturing my jaw, if the bruising was any indication.
How could she hit that hard?
Better yet, how had only two women broken down the door? When I had turned around to confront them, the corner of the door had been pulled back, and there were only two women there. There could have been more people in the stairwell, but I didn’t hear or see anything to indicate that.
The women had also been identical. It wasn’t strange in itself, but the way they had carried themselves—they were important somehow. They were definitely operatives for Matrus, that much was sure. I wondered if Ms. Dale knew that another team had been sent out after her.
I hoped Violet was okay. I remembered my quip about her coming to my rescue, but suddenly I wanted her to do anything but that. I was in trouble here, and if she came after me, then she would likely get caught too.
I shifted in my seat, and I could hear the clinking of metal on metal. It took me a minute, but I realized I was cuffed to the chair by my hands and feet—one pair of cuffs around my wrists, one around my ankles, and even one extendable pair around my knees. I leaned my head back, so that I was staring at the ceiling, and sighed, running through my options.
Escape. That was what I needed to do. Before Violet had a chance to get herself caught. It was the only way to keep her from harm. They would likely be aware that I was awake now, which meant interrogation was coming.
So, first order of business was to get out of this chair. I straightened up, and flexed my arms from where they were bound behind my back. They had slipped the cuffs through the rungs in the back of the chair, but the chair was metal, and likely weaker than the cuffs were. If I could get enough leverage, I could be able to bend or even break the chair.
Taking a deep breath, I began to pull my hands back, the chain between the cuffs growing tight. This angle was terrible for it—I couldn’t get leverage—but I pulled anyway, bringing my shoulder blades together to pull. After about a minute, my arms began to shake from the strain, and I had to relax them.
Just then, the door began to open. I rotated my shoulders and placed a bored look on my face. The door swung open, and Ms. Dale stepped in.
She was fully clothed—likely in borrowed clothes, like Violet and me—and her arm was in a sling. There were dark shadows under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept in a while, and her face was in that same neutral position that I had come to expect from her.
We stared at each other for a few seconds, and then I chuckled. She arched an eyebrow at me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just feel like you should be saying something like ‘the tables are turned now,’ or something sinister like that.”
Her face remained neutral. “Are you thirsty?”
I pondered the question for a moment. I was thirsty, but this was a power play—if I said yes, I was acknowledging that I was under her control. If I said no, I was stubborn. Remaining silent was no better either.
“Maybe,” I hedged, shifting in my seat. “What did you bring?”
She looked down her nose at me condescendingly. “Water, of course.”
I made a face. “Water? No, thank you.”
Shrugging, she moved over to the table, setting down the cup and water pitcher that she had been holding. Leaning her hip on the table, she studied me.
“How’s your face?” she asked.
It was my turn to shrug. “It’ll heal.”
“It doesn’t look good.”
I laughed. I didn’t mean to, but I did. “Ms. Dale, I appreciate your concern, but this is nothing. You should’ve seen me after my fight with Langston Humphreys. The man had fists like brick walls. Granted, I knocked him out after a minute, but he got in a few good punches.”
“Yes. I’ve read all about your extracurricular activities,” Ms. Dale said, settling back on the table. “You are quite an aggressive specimen of a Patrian male.”
I exhaled, a flash of irritation coming over me. She made me sound like a dog when she spoke like that. “What do you want, Melissa?” I said, using her first name intentionally.
“Violet.”
“Well, that’s too bad. I don’t know where she is.”
Ms. Dale looked over at the mirrored glass for a second and then back to me. “You’re really quite impressive, you know that?”
I leaned back in my chair, recognizing what she was doing. I clenched my jaw, determined to remain silent. I was not going to rise to her bait like she did with mine.
“I mean it. I’m not talking about your physical prowess, but rather your intellect. You’re observant and have keen deductive reasoning skills. You picked up cues from me that even the most talented interrogator would have overlooked.”
I shrugged, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She studied me for a long moment, her brown eyes flicking over me as if I were some puzzle she was trying to solve.
“They’re going to kill you, Viggo,” she said softly.
“Who?” I asked.
“The twins. Please believe me when I say that I didn’t know that they were going to be sent out to retrieve Violet.”
“What does it matter if they sent out another team?”
Ms. Dale’s face tightened in a way that was uniquely her, and I straightened up, my mind filtering through the possibilities.
“You’re afraid of them,” I said, my eyes widening. She didn’t respond, but I could see the truth there.
A long silence stretched out between us. She sat on the table, staring at her hands. Her face and eyes revealed nothing, but I could sense a struggle within her. I remained quiet, waiting to see what decision she arrived at.
“I taught them everything they know,” she said eventually.
I frowned at that bit of information. Who were these twins and why would Ms. Dale be teaching them? I felt that pushing this woman on that subject would get her to close down on me, so I decided to go a different way.
“How can you do this to Violet?” I demanded.
Her head swiveled sharply as she looked over at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you do. You may not have said it, but you do. Violet is innocent, and you’re willing to let these two women tear her apart. And for what? For a country that claims that they are pacifistic and peaceful?”
Her face hardened and she stood up. “Matrus is –”
“Just as messed up as Patrus. Believe me, I know.”
She let out a sharp breath, and I realized I had made her angry. Angry was good—it meant less control over the information she revealed.
“You really can’t be that naive,” she hissed. “Our queen was murdered. Murdered. And her murderer? Dead. If there is no one to hold responsible for this crime, if we can’t make an example out of someone for what they did…”
I gaped at her. “Are you insane?” She stared at me, her mouth still open to speak, but I barreled over her. “You are talking about condemning an innocent woman to death for regicide, all to maintain face. For what reason? To show that you are in control?”
“People need–”
“People need to be treated like adults. What you’re talking about is tyrannical and cruel. Which… I’ve come to expect from Patrus, but from Matrus?”
She exhaled again sharply, her body vibrating from tension. Her jaw clenched and she stood up.
“Where is Violet?”
I shook my head, clamping my own jaw down. “I don’t know,” I grated out.
“We need to find her.”
“She wasn’t downstairs when I went to look for her.”
“They are going to kill you if you don’t give them what they want.”
I bared my teeth at her in the semblance of a grin. “At least I’ll finally be able to protect a woman I care about,” I said grimly.
A pause filled the room, and she took a step closer, placing a hand on her
hip. “I take it you are referring to your wife?”
I scoffed over the flare of rage and pain. “How deep does your file on me go?” I asked bitterly.
“Deep enough,” she replied, arching a brow.
Arrogant Matrian. I ground my teeth together and clenched my fists. “Clearly,” was all I could respond.
“Where is Violet?” she repeated. “Where is the egg?”
I shrugged, suddenly tired of the questions. “I honestly couldn’t tell you.”
She nodded, her face flat. “All right, let me ask you this. After you’re dead, who will be left to protect her?”
I froze, stunned by her words. It hadn’t occurred to me that once I was dead, Violet would be alone and unprotected. It was a devastating thought, one that made me sick to my stomach.
“If you help us find her, I promise you, Viggo, I will do everything in my power to help her get through this alive.”
I stared at her, allowing my disbelief and disdain to show. “I don’t know if you’ve just been doing this too long, or if you’re just a cruel human being, but you and I both know that it’s not true. I’m not even sure if you believe the lies that you’re saying, or if you’ve just bought in to them as well. All I know is this—Violet is capable of taking care of herself. And if you’re smart, you’ll walk away from all this.”
A slow sound of applause filled the air, and the twins sauntered in from the hallway. “What a lovely speech,” one of them said. “Too bad that it’ll be the last one you’ll ever make.”
Ms. Dale shot me a look of deep pity, and turned to the twins.
“Ladies, I was just—”
“We know, Melissa,” said the other one, her face twisted in a sinister grin. “You did your best, but now it’s our turn.”
Dismissed, Ms. Dale stepped over the threshold into the hallway. She took one last look back at me before she disappeared, leaving me and my fate to the two women standing before me.
29
Violet
I felt as if I had been crawling around these ducts for hours, which was actually probably true. Luckily, all of the ducts ran the same way, laid out perfectly and repetitiously. Unluckily, every single grate I tried would not open, no matter how hard I strained.
What was worse was that in his hurry to collect my things, Viggo had forgotten to pack a canteen, leaving me without water. I had been crawling and sliding around for hours, sweating profusely, and I was thirsty. Not to mention, I still wasn’t at my best. The bits and pieces of sleep I had managed to slip in had only helped steady me, not revitalize my strength.
That I was already feeling thirsty wasn’t a good sign—it meant dehydration was setting in. I needed to move fast, and get out of these ducts.
After the interrogation level and lab, I had continued to crawl downward. I hadn’t found any of the machinery responsible for pumping the oxygen throughout the facility, but I figured they had to be at the very bottom level. I hadn’t noticed any machinery on the top of the building when we had come in, and it made the most sense: It would be easier to maintain from inside.
My logic was sound, but I still felt apprehensive. Especially after seeing the level after the lab. I had been stalling for a few minutes now, trying to come up with a reason to head back upstairs that made sense, but I couldn’t come up with one.
I peeked back through the grate I was next to, and bit my lip. This level I could make out clearly from the floor. It was designed like a child’s playground. There was a sand box, swings, a see-saw… everything you could find at a park.
But it was pristine—unused. Like no children had ever played on it before. My mind kept mulling over reasons to explain its presence, but none of them felt right. I had considered the possibility of the researchers who had lived here having children, and this was a designated day care area.
Except that there were mirrors everywhere. At first, I had thought it was just a design thing, until I found an abnormal bit of ventilation, which led to a small room. As I strained on the grate, trying to open it, I realized that I could see the glass. It was a two-way mirror.
I realized then that the room was used to observe and study. Which made my theory moot, as no one would be comfortable with their children being studied like lab rats.
Then why did this room exist? What was the point of it?
Yet more and more questions to add to my ever-growing list. I sighed, and leaned back, resting my head on the duct, rubbing my thumb against my other fingers.
Suddenly, I wished Viggo was here. He likely wouldn’t be able to offer up any explanation for the room, but at least his presence would be comforting. I tilted my gaze upward, trying to imagine what was happening with him right now. My heart clenched in my chest as dozens of images ripped from the darkest part of my imagination.
“Get it together, Violet,” I said softly, jerking myself out of my grim thoughts. I sighed, rolling my eyes at my need to talk myself through my current dilemma. I was being ridiculous and wasting time.
And yet…
“Okay, Violet,” I began. “You know the vents upstairs are all sealed. You could use your gun, but that would attract attention. So… if you want to save Viggo and get out of these vents, you’re going to have to head down to the next level.”
Saying the words out loud helped, but not a lot. I ran my hand over my face and grimaced as I realized I had likely wiped all the grime and dirt I had been acquiring all over myself. So much for my miraculous shower from earlier.
I rotated myself in the vent, until I was back on my belly. Pushing the bag toward the next downturn that delineated a staircase, I used my hands and elbows to drag myself behind it. I had secured the flashlight to the bag using one of the straps, which gave me some freedom, but not much.
I approached the juncture for the next stairwell, and heaved the bag into it, before sliding down after it. I was well aware that I was making a lot of noise, but truthfully, I hadn’t seen or heard anyone since I had left Viggo’s level above. It was like they hadn’t bothered searching the lower levels.
Then again—why would they? The door had been secured. For all they knew, I was just hidden somewhere above.
Actually, that reasoning didn’t really fly. They’d had more than enough time to search the upper levels. There weren’t many places to hide. So why hadn’t they come down yet, looking for me?
I rounded the corner and slid down the next vent. I wasn’t sliding fast, so when the vent came to an abrupt stop at solid wall, I had enough time to slow myself down.
The bag continued to slide downward, the light from the flashlight illuminating a hole in the vent where it met the wall. A hole that the bag was sliding toward without any sign of stopping.
Cursing, I shot after the bag, sliding down quickly. I reached out with my left hand, managing to snag the loop at the top. Quickly, I spread my arms and legs, slowing myself down to a halt. The bag teetered at the edge, rocking back and forth for a few seconds, before slowly going over.
I braced for the weight, and managed to keep it from dragging me over, but I heard something clatter below. Pulling the bag back up, I realized the flashlight had fallen. I shifted the bag to my side, grabbed the edge of the hole, and looked down.
The flashlight was still on, somehow, and had fallen about fifty feet straight down. It was illuminating the wall, and I could make out something jutting from it. The light wasn’t powerful enough to reach up here, leaving me in darkness.
I felt the edges of the hole carefully. They weren’t sharp, which indicated this hole was intentional. I reached along the sides of the vent, feeling my way around. Like the rest of the vent, it was made of the same thin and flexible metal. I couldn’t reach the wall in the back, not without moving forward.
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the edge, and moved more of my torso over the empty space. I used my legs as a brace, spreading them wide and pushing against the sides of the duct. Slowly, I let go with one hand, using my other hand and muscles in the
small of my back to keep me straight.
I tried not to look down as I reached across the remaining gap. One wrong move here and I would fall to my death. I took a deep breath, steeling myself against that thought. Besides, it was just another death filled situation. I should be used to those by now.
I felt for the wall, my fingers searching. The concrete was cold under my hand. I slid my hand around, keeping my breathing heavy and my muscles tight. My hand hit something cool and metallic over my third pass. I followed it from the wall, to where it curved around to be parallel to the wall, and then curved around again to intersect with the wall again.
It was a ladder.
I pulled back from the edge and sucked in a few deep breaths of air. My arms and legs were aching from the exertion, and I was sweating again. I needed to get out of this place, and I guessed I was going to go down to do it.
I managed to slip the backpack on my back, but it took a lot of bending and straining, as well as a few choice words, before I did so.
The next part was even trickier—grabbing the ladder and maneuvering my body over there wasn’t going to be easy, especially since I had no room to turn around in the vent. I was going to have to grab on with both hands, and then drag my legs over. I also had to hope that I wouldn’t lose my grip and fall.
Taking one last breath, I grabbed the edge of the vent and slid myself over the void. I braced my legs again and reached out with one hand. I was already straining, thanks to the added weight of the backpack.
It only took me a few seconds to find the rung of the ladder again. I gripped it with my hand, and then released the edge of the vent with the other. A moment of weightlessness came over me, reminding me of falling through the air and into The Green, and I panicked, reaching out blindly with my other hand.
There was a second where I was certain I was going to fall, and images of me impacting the unyielding concrete below ran through my imagination. Then my hand found the bar, and I gripped it with all my might. I took a moment to calm myself, sucking air in and out, until I realized I wasn’t going to be calm unless I was fully on the ladder.