Rotoya sat in silence. Rachel sat next to her, arms crossed, leaning against the wall in the barroom. Both sat within arm’s reach of the kitchen door. Rotoya combed through the plan in her head over and over. If more soldiers came than anticipated, Eric’s group would jump out, and they would ambush them together.
For now, silence was their only company. They sat for what felt like forever, and Rotoya stole glances at Rachel. She hadn’t bothered putting her helmet back on, raking a hand through her short hair.
“You know,” Rotoya started, “I think I overestimated the drug when we first took it.”
Rachel looked at her but didn’t respond.
“I thought once we had the drug, we wouldn’t get nervous anymore. Though this is the first time since I took it that I’ve felt this way, so who knows?”
Rachel looked down then asked, “You’re nervous too?”
Rotoya nodded, and Rachel gave her a reassuring smile. Nervous was an understatement, but she swallowed every ripple of anxiety that washed over her. Nerves had never done anything good for her before, and they wouldn’t now. Still, she wrung her hands and swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
What happened to her in this fight against Caleb didn’t matter. It was her officers that sent her nerves into a frenzy. At any moment, he could order them to the slums and make them self-destruct.
Rotoya let out a shaky breath. Rachel was acting like herself—the way she sat, ran her hand through her hair, and bounced her leg over and over. The slight twang in her voice was as prominent as ever. She was Rachel.
But Rotoya had to know. “Rachel.”
Rachel looked at her, meeting her eyes with those bright-purple ones.
“Point your gun at yourself.”
Without so much as a blink of hesitation, Rachel pointed her own pistol at her head.
“Point it at me.”
Again, without any pause, she pointed her gun, this time at Rotoya’s face.
Rotoya cupped her hand over her mouth, hot tears welling in her eyes. She dug her nails into her cheek. She’d done this. Shoot me, she almost said. It was what she deserved.
“Put it down,” Rotoya said, her voice cracking. She wiped her eyes as Rachel obeyed. She hadn’t even taken direct control—just asked her, and she did it. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what, Ro?”
Rotoya almost burst into tears. Her nickname, of all things.
The rumble of a vehicle vibrated under Rotoya’s palms resting on the floor. She shoved her tears and nerves far under the waters and stood. The vehicle parked in front of the bar.
“Let’s do this,” Rotoya said. She marched out of the bar with Rachel following behind, gulping as the car doors opened.
Four soldiers stepped out of the car. A single squad. And no Caleb.
Perfect.
“Chief Rotoya? What are you doing here?” asked one of the soldiers. Two were armed with rifles, and the last two had pistols at their hips.
Rotoya ordered Rachel to flank them. A silent order from her nanobots. Doing so hurt, but it would be worth it when this was all over.
Rachel rounded the vehicle, silent as a wraith and casual, as if simply inspecting it.
“Caleb sent you too?” Rotoya sighed. “We’ve searched the place up and down, but we haven’t found any sign of the fugitives.”
Rachel balled her hands into one fist and slammed it into the back of a soldier’s neck. He collapsed. The remaining soldiers spun at the sound. Rotoya sent her fist through the nearest soldier’s visor, dropping him like a brick.
When Rotoya looked up, another officer was on the ground at Rachel’s feet. She sent her fist into the stomach of the final guard then slammed her head into the car door. The impact left a dent in the metal.
“Nice work,” Rotoya said.
Rachel smiled. “Thanks.”
“Four down.”
“How many more left?”
“I don’t know… More than this.”
They dragged the bodies off the street and drove the armored vehicle into a dark alley. Other than the unfortunate purple splatter on the road, it was as if nobody had come to check on them at all.
Rotoya tried to manipulate the blood, but even the small amount wouldn’t budge. If only Caleb had taught her how to control the blood like he did, crashing waves of it into people. It would certainly make the coming fight easier.
Once the bodies were hidden in the cellar and their weapons stashed in the armory, Rotoya and Rachel sat back down in the barroom and continued waiting. A frown etched onto Rotoya’s face after a while. Two of those four people were her own officers. She’d seen their faces when she removed their helmets. Having to beat down her own officers pained her, but if this plan went half as well as they needed it to, then it would all be worth it.
With any luck, Caleb was talking Lance’s head off and revealing more information than he intended.
His pride would be his downfall.
And his mouth.
* * *
A pounding headache ripped Lance out of his sleep. Maintaining his grip on the soldiers, falling asleep, then waking up—that was the routine. He didn’t know how Caleb possessed the energy necessary to control so many soldiers.
Lance lost track of how long he slept, of how much time had passed in this cell. Surely, it was no longer than a few minutes at a time. Hopefully. The room had no windows to check for sunlight.
What if he’d slept for hours? What if Caleb had gone to the bar personally? Lance shook his head, prompting a spike of pain in his temples. He stood and looked out the small window in the door.
Another person occupied one of these cells, according to Caleb. Curiosity gripped his heart the way he gripped the hearts of the two soldiers walking up and down the hall. One soldier looked in on a cell as he passed, two cells down, facing the opposite direction. Whoever they were, Lance could only imagine what they’d done to make Landreau Corp mad.
And what information they might have.
Lance took a steadying breath and ordered a guard to open his door. The beast—or the nanobots—sent the message, worsening his headache. The guard walked to Lance’s cell and opened it, the door groaning loud enough to alert the whole city. Lance paused, waiting for any shifts or shouts to arise in response.
With another order, the second guard ignored what he saw.
Lance slipped out of the cell, and his heart leaped. Freedom nipped at his heels, and the temptation to run overwhelmed him. He ignored it and padded down the hall, two cells down. He stopped at the one to his right and peeked in. He blinked a few times then narrowed his eyes.
It… can’t be…
George was lying across a cold metal bed. Alive.
So that was what Caleb meant? George was researching the cure for him?
Lance ordered the guard to unlock George’s door. The risk was great, maybe too great, but plan aside, George might know something vital.
Lance readied himself to run if the elevator sounded, ordering the guards to do the same. With every order, his energy drained, and his eyelids weighed heavier. He paused and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. He had to hurry.
Lance wiped his hands on his pants and stepped into the cell.
“George?” Lance whispered.
George shivered. If Eric saw him like this, he would go on a rampage.
Lance shook George lightly. His skin was cold, but his round stomach rose and fell. Lance sighed in relief and shook him again.
Finally, George stirred. His shivering body turned to look at Lance, and his eyes lit up.
“Lance?” George said, sitting up in the bed. He trembled. “H-how did you get here?”
“It was intentional,” Lance whispered, shushing him.
George nodded.
“We had a plan to infiltrate Landreau Corp. It’s a long story. What are you doing here? We thought you burned in the fire.”
“Yes,” George said. “Y-yes, I b-believe that was Caleb’s intention. He s-slaughtered everyone in the R-rose, took Malcolm to a room, and had his soldiers bring m-me to the vehicle.”
“Why?”
“Wanted m-me to work on n-nanobots. Create m-more because I w-worked with Malcolm.”
“Did you do it?”
George shut his eyes tight. “N-no… D-don’t know how. He threw me down here when I refused. Now he w-wants me to research a cure.”
My God, he was telling the truth…
“Are you okay?”
George nodded.
“Are you hurt?”
George’s breath formed a cloud as he sighed and shook his head.
Lance bit his lip as exhaustion clouded his own thinking. “Try to move around. It’ll warm you up. Can you do that?” The beast had to be warming Lance as his skin wasn’t nearly as cold as George’s.
George nodded.
“Look, I have to get going. Keep moving, okay? I’ll get you out of here.”
“Eric,” George said as Lance made to leave. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine… You’ll see him again soon.” Lance slipped out of the cell.
George stepped from one side of the room to the other in one stride, his arms wrapped around himself.
Lance closed the door, and the guard locked it behind him. He stumbled down the hall to his cell. The door groaned again as it shut behind him, and Lance collapsed, his legs too weak to keep him standing any longer. The simplest acts exhausted him. He swore at the cold concrete.
He reached out to the heartbeats of his two soldiers. They were steady, calm. The beast purred again, but he shut it up before it could ask to be ‘given more room’ again. He extended his reach, stretching beyond the floors above to the main level. His body tensed.
He kept reminding himself to breathe as he felt the heartbeats of the soldiers walking around the main level. There weren’t many. Not in the lobby, anyway.
He opened his eyes and leaned over, his strength draining. Again, the beast started to purr at him, but he shut it up. A growl in response, but then the beast went silent.
This isn’t going to be easy.
He shut his eyes again and reached. A single guard ascended to the third floor, but his energy faded from Lance’s reach. A stairway. If Lance remembered correctly, it came to the main floor right next to the elevator.
He swore. How the hell am I going to do this? With a sigh, he opened his eyes and looked at the two guards walking up and down the hall. He thought for a moment then ordered the soldier with the keys to let George out.
The cell door swung open, and George’s footsteps clicked toward Lance’s door.
“It’s me,” Lance said as George stared at the guard that had let him out. “I’m controlling these two guards. Don’t ask questions. I think I can get you out of here, but you have to follow the guard that let you out. Can you do that?”
“What about you?” George asked.
Lance shook his head. “I have to stay here for now. It’s part of the plan. Head to Derek’s bar. That’s where Eric and Kaela are. Did Eric tell you about the bar at all?”
George stuttered. “Back at The Red Rose, I think, yes. Which one?”
Lance cursed. “Um… Recluse Avenue. It’s not far from the Rose that burned down.”
Lance ordered the guard to guide George to the elevator door. The guard summoned the elevator, and the doors slid open. They stepped in, and the guard held his hand out to the doors, keeping them from closing.
“George, get ready to move,” Lance said, hissing as the guard’s distance made holding on more difficult.
He reached for one last time, his body aching, his headache returning. The cold bit into his skin like a rabid dog. He sensed each of the heartbeats of the soldiers in the lobby.
He closed his eyes, recalling the layout of the lobby and forming a mental map as the soldiers walked around. With one order, he had the second soldier in the hall pull his gun. George gasped, but he urged the guard to the stairwell. Lance ordered the soldier to fire.
Two rounds went into the ground then three into the wall. The sound echoed all the way down to Lance’s cell. Every heartbeat in the lobby quickened, pulsing in Lance’s ears. He sensed them as they scrambled.
They were descending the stairs. Lance ordered the soldier to run back down to the basement then fire two more rounds. More soldiers from the main floor rushed down the stairs.
Lance ordered the guard in the elevator to let the doors close. Keep him safe, no matter what. Be quiet, and bring him to the back door. If there are guards in the parking lot, take them out.
The elevator doors shut as dozens of heavy footsteps flew down the stairs.
The door to the basement swung open. Lance’s vision darkened.
“What the hell’s going on here?” asked a guard.
There was a tense silence. Lance forced the words out, just as he had before. Each word punched him in the chest. Rat… startled me…
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“A rat?” the guard repeated, frustration lacing his tone. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”
The guards trudged back up the steps, their heartbeats settling to a normal pace.
Lance reached out and sensed the second soldier. He had to be in the hall. His heart was racing. Two more heartbeats were nearby. That had to be guards outside the back door.
Darkness edged around him, pulling him under. He resisted, drowning in the fog in his head.
The guard moved toward the back door. The two other heartbeats turned rapid, beating faster and faster until they descended to a slow rhythm. Unconscious? Had he done it?
Once George gets away, come back.
Moments passed, then Lance sensed the guard move back into the building, his pulse getting stronger the closer he got to the basement. When he returned, Lance allowed them to resume their usual walk up and down the hall as if nothing had happened.
Lance prayed that what he just did was worth it.
And that Caleb wouldn’t find out.
The darkness pulled Lance under.
He awoke to the sound of an elevator door opening and wondered how long he’d been out. He groaned as he sat up, his energy slowly returning.
Footsteps approached then stopped at his cell door, but Lance didn’t bother looking. He kept still.
“Two,” was all Caleb said. Lance still didn’t look at him, but the fury in his voice said it all. Rage danced off him, wild like a flame. Caleb’s guard opened the door, and he stomped in.
“Is that supposed to be the time?” Lance asked.
Caleb sent a kick into Lance’s side. He grunted, pain shooting through his ribs. He sputtered and coughed into the ground, grateful that no blood splattered onto the stone.
Wrath laced Caleb’s words. “I know you helped him escape.”
“And would you mind telling me who him is?”
Another kick to his ribs. Lance expected it this time and braced for the impact. The beast snarled at Caleb.
Caleb spat on the ground next to Lance’s head. “You helped that doctor escape, and wouldn’t you be equally surprised to hear that these two soldiers right here are acting strangely. One firing his gun down here at a rat and the other attacking the guards at the exit. Almost seems too convenient, now doesn’t it?”
Lance shifted away from the spittle on the ground, fighting against nausea. So Caleb couldn’t sense Lance’s control. He could only suspect it. Lance stored that tidbit of information. “What does that even matter to me? Whoever it was didn’t bother letting me out, so why should I care?”
A pause… Lance resisted the smile that tried to crawl up his face, and he refused to look at Caleb. That silence meant Caleb considered it. Considered that Lance wasn’t the one who controlled the guards. It was his one chance to defuse the situation.
Caleb whirled and grabbed one of the two guards standing outside of Lance’s cell. “Tell me, soldier, why did you fire those rounds again?”
Lance tensed. He shut his eyes and tried to force the word out, but pain seared through his head. Tears welled in his eyes. He tried again, but the word didn’t leave the soldier’s mouth. He’d used up too much energy. He couldn’t let go of the soldier, either. If he relinquished control, the soldier might act confused. Dammit.
Caleb asked the question again then turned to the other guard. “Why did you punch those men?”
More silence. Lance sent the order to speak, but it didn’t reach the guard.
Lance prepared for the thrashing Caleb would give him. But then the air shifted, and the beast growled again.
Caleb’s tone revealed his smile. “I’ll tell you why you should care, Lance, my friend. Without that damn doctor, there is no cure for you, meaning Eric will die, and you’ll be stuck with those nanobots inside of you.” He sighed. “Oh well. I have another solution.”
Lance glared up at Caleb.
He slipped a syringe out of his pocket. “A fresh shot of the beta strain. Now you can kill Eric yourself.”
“No,” Lance said. A burst of adrenaline shot through him, and he was on his feet, pressed against the wall.
Caleb removed a knife and sliced his palm. “Don’t fight this, Lance.”
Lance scanned the three soldiers. One last order. Just one. Lance bit through the pain and ordered his two guards. Fire.
But Caleb’s guard was too quick. He drew his pistol and shot Lance’s soldiers before they could draw their own guns.
The beast hissed and snapped inside him as Caleb closed in. The killing calm settled over him, and the familiar dry voice whispered in the back of his head.
Survive.
Lance lunged forward and threw a punch at Caleb’s face. Caleb grunted, and blood splattered against the wall. He swiped at Lance with the syringe. The needle barely missed Lance’s shoulder.
Lance allowed his body to guide his movements. Faster than he could think, he dodged swipe after swipe, throwing quick blows of his own. Caleb hardly reacted to them.
Caleb yelled, his veins glowing brightly. His arm grew twice its size.
“Not this again,” Lance breathed. He narrowly dodged Caleb’s punch. The wall cracked on impact.
Caleb swiped his arm, slamming into Lance’s chest. Lance cried out and flew against the wall. He crashed to the ground, the breath leaving his lungs.
Getting real sick of him—
Caleb punched Lance’s face. Pain shattered into his jaw, and his head slammed against the concrete.
He groaned, too slow to stop Caleb from shoving the needle into his neck.
The beast roared, louder than ever before.
He tried to move, but his body ached.
Give me more room!
Lance refused.
More room!
“No.”
NOW!
Lance was too tired. He let go of the chains around the beast. It roared again, and Lance screamed. Pain coursed through every part of his body. His veins glowed brighter than ever. Caleb smiled and backed away.
Lance’s body burned with invisible flames. He screamed and screamed, too weak to even writhe. Zaps and jolts fired all over his body, like hundreds of needles poking and prodding his skin. The beast stretched and snarled and lashed out, taking up all the room Lance gave it.
The pain wouldn’t stop. Please make it stop.
The beast roared and howled, and the zaps continued. Moments passed like hours until finally, the zaps popped fewer and farther between. Lance heaved a breath, sucking down as much air as his lungs would allow.
Caleb was still smiling as he said, “Get up.”
Lance scoffed. “Go to hell.”
Caleb’s smile dropped, and his expression fell. Lance swore there was fear in his eyes for just a split second. “My God,” Caleb muttered. “How?”
Lance couldn’t speak.
Even the beast panted, exhausted. None left, it growled.
Lance almost smiled. So that’s what happened. It had killed the nanobots, zapped them away like flies. Thank you.
The beast purred for a second before going silent—collapsing, probably.
“I don’t understand,” Caleb said. “What did Malcolm give you?”
Lance shut his eyes then forced them open again. His grip on the two soldiers released, and he was left cold and empty, pain searing all over his skin.
“Take him down to the other cell.”
Lance couldn’t fight back as the men healed from their wounds and picked Lance up, forcing him out of the cell. He smiled. Caleb showed fear in his eyes. He feared Lance. It was almost funny.
Lance weakly kicked at them, even with the beast faintly whining inside of him. A feeling vaguely like the calm settled over him, but it wasn’t enough. His body was too tired to fight. The beast was too tired to fight.
Caleb sighed. “You could’ve been my best soldier, Lance. I don’t know how you resisted the drug… Malcolm had to have given you a different strain, something unlike any other. But his journal didn’t mention that.” Caleb didn’t seem to be talking to Lance anymore. “I don’t understand.”
“Affects everyone different,” Lance muttered weakly. He chuckled, but it was breathy. “Maybe I’m just better than you.”
Caleb said nothing.
Lance was too disoriented to mark in his head which direction the soldiers were taking him. All he knew was that they took several twists and turns, and that it was only getting colder the longer they walked. Then they were heading down a set of stairs, and with each inch downward, the cold air bit down harder and harder on his body.
“Maybe,” Caleb said. “But it won’t matter anymore. Until I figure out what Malcolm did to you, you’re my lab rat. And you’re never getting out of here.”
Lance was dropped in another cell. He landed on a freezing black stone floor. The walls were the same. There was no bed—nothing but a dark stone-brick room and a dark metal door with no slit, no way to look out or in.
Lance looked up from his hands and knees at the guard holding the door open.
Caleb wore a wicked smile. “You know… I’m grateful to you, Lance.”
Lance opened his mouth to curse him, but his breath caught. He was too shaky, too cold. He balled up with his back to the floor, his shirt doing little to block the cold stone from snapping its jaws around him. He didn’t care how pleasing the sight was to Caleb. He just wanted some semblance of warmth. The cold only worsened his throbbing pain.
He reached out to the guards to feel the warmth of their heartbeats, of their armor. It always helped. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t regain his grip on them. The beast growled, but it was distant as well. Almost muffled.
Caleb continued, “No, really, I am. This cell will keep you tame for a while.” He laughed, the cold sound bouncing off the stone. “It was originally intended for Daniel and Malcolm. Well, Malcolm died, and I wasn’t going to leave Daniel in that sewer forever. I just didn’t want him taking control of my men from underneath me. Regardless, once he died, I thought I would have no use for this little cell. And now, it seems the time and resources it took to make it won’t go to waste after all.” He laughed again, the sound haunting.
Lance couldn’t stop fear from crawling up his spine. The beast whined distantly, unable to even raise its head. Tears built up behind Lance’s eyes. A plea to spare him climbed up his throat, but he shoved it down, refusing to allow that weakness to show.
“What?” Caleb said. “Surely, you didn’t think connecting to other nanobots worked like magic, did you? No, it’s all electromagnetic. I’m not sure how my dearest brother did it, but the waves those nanobots emit to one another can pierce through just about any material.” He slapped his hand against the stone wall. “This cell, however, is not just stone. Surrounding its infrastructure is a Faraday cage. Ever heard of it? I hadn’t until Malcolm told me about it. It can block all electromagnetic fields within it. A beautiful invention, really. Malcolm made a few adjustments to it, specifically for the nanobots. Good luck trying to control my men in here. Hell, good luck using those damn nanobots at all in here.”
Lance’s breath quickened. His words caught in his throat as he tried to beg. He didn’t care how pathetic he looked. He didn’t want to be in here. It was too dark, too small.
Lance reached out to the guards, but he couldn’t sense them.
“So thank you, Lance. For making this fancy little cell here useful again. I’ll have food and water sent in here every day or so, and I’ll be sure to check up on you. We’re going to find out together what Malcolm injected you with.”
He laughed as the cell door closed, and Lance tripped over himself trying to reach it first. But the door shut tight, and Lance was trapped in a black room darker than Eric’s eyes.
Caleb released another laugh, muffled from the other side of the door, then said, “Can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier.”
Lance reached out to the guards again, but there was nothing to grab onto—no warmth, no heartbeat.
After a few long moments, he reached within himself and listened for any sign of the beast.
No growls, no whines.
Tears trailed down his cheeks, and he let them, for what little warmth they gave. He already felt weak, but the nanobots—they were gone. No killing calm or beast, nothing to reach out to for warmth. He was the same Lance he’d been before all of this. He forced himself to stand, to get his skin away from that bare stone. He stayed on his feet and walked around in the darkness. Kept himself moving.
The silence of the room weighed heavily on him. The only sounds were Lance’s own feet padding across the stone floor and his tears tapping against it as they dripped down his chin.
He’d failed. The entire plan was in ruins, and he could see no way out. He had no strength left.
Eric, Kaela, Derek, George—all of them would likely die because he’d failed. But Rotoya—if she managed to do what Lance couldn’t, they still had a chance.
There it was. A kernel of hope. A small piece of light to hold on to in the darkness. It wasn’t much, but Lance held it close to his chest and kept walking, kept moving. Maybe, if they managed to win, someone would find him. One of them would come for him. He just had to have faith.
But with the cold chilling his bones, how long would it last?
* * *
Rotoya took another sip of wine, the bottle sitting nearly empty next to her. The more she drank, the more she realized the nanobots wouldn’t allow her to get drunk anymore. A blessing and a curse, as far as she was concerned.
The bar door was left open, allowing a breeze to flutter in and caress Rotoya’s cheek. That and the wine, with the dark of night shielding them—despite the danger they were in, there was a comfort in it.
“More of a brandy kind of woman, myself,” Rotoya started, “but I can see why people buy barrels of this stuff from Derek.”
Rachel nodded her head, taking a sip from her own glass. Rotoya wasn’t sure if she did it out of boredom as well or if she was just following her chief’s lead. Derek had set himself up on the roof of the building next to them, and Kaela and Eric were hidden in the alley with their knives and pistols ready to ambush whichever of Caleb’s soldiers came along next. That left the basement empty, save for the soldiers and officers tied up. The honey smell had become more than they could bear.
Another car had come, holding four more soldiers. They went down easily with everyone’s help. Just like last time, two of them were officers. With two patrols missing, Caleb would suspect something. One more patrol, and they would be ready to attack.
In a moment of quiet between the clacks of glass on wood, something stopped Rotoya. She held a single hand up, a signal for Rachel to get ready. In the distance, a tapping sounded. Almost like… footsteps?
Rotoya stood from the bar and walked out the door, fists clenched as she leaned against the frame, waiting for more soldiers to come. She looked up at Derek, who could see them before she could. His silhouette made no signal from the shadows, but his head kept turning from her to the street, and she signaled Rachel again, preparing herself for whatever fight was coming their way.
The footsteps closed in on them, and Rotoya crossed her arms, drawing up the words she would say when Caleb rounded the corner. She took a single deep breath and watched as a man rounded the corner, his face pale. When he saw her, he turned the other way and ran, but a voice rang out in the night.
“George?” Eric said. He emerged from the darkness, knife and gun dangling from his hands.
Rotoya had never seen a look like that on Eric’s face—pale and scared but also relieved. Those black eyes watered, and Kaela emerged from behind him, mirroring his expression.
Derek climbed down from the building, and after he feasted his eyes upon them, he turned his gaze, full of rage, on her.
Eric approached George, hesitant, as if he thought it wasn’t real. He smiled weakly, and Eric smiled back. They embraced, and tears ran down Eric’s face.
“You’re alive,” was all Eric said.
George said nothing, too busy tightening his grip around Eric.
Derek approached her, a scowl like no other upon his face. “Did you know?”
The man did look familiar. He had the same round belly as the man in the cell near Lance. Caleb hadn’t told her a thing about him, even when she asked.
Rotoya didn’t meet Derek’s eyes. “If I knew, I would have told you.”
If this was the man in the cell, then how did he escape?
And what did that mean for Lance?
* * *
Some deeper part of Eric told him to fight against the tears trailing down his cheeks, but as he embraced the man that had practically raised him all these years, he didn’t care. He told whatever was urging him to fight it to shut its mouth, and he held tight to the closest thing to a father he’d ever had.
George cried too. He tried repeatedly to talk to Eric, but he couldn’t. Neither of them could.
He was alive. Alive. And Caleb would burn for making Eric think otherwise.
Moments passed, and when they finally parted, all they could do was smile at each other.
“How are you here?” Eric asked, finally able to speak, wiping the tears from his face. He glanced at Rotoya to see if she noticed, but she averted her gaze to Kaela, who was standing close by with crossed arms and a scowl aimed at the ground.
George looked behind him as if scared he’d been followed. “Caleb—he found me with Malcolm and had me brought to Landreau Corp.”
A shadow grew over Eric’s heart. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” George said. “I mean, he locked me in a freezing-cold cell, but he didn’t hurt me.”
Eric paused. “Lance… Did you see Lance at all? Is he okay?”
George nodded. “He’s the whole reason I escaped. He…” He closed his mouth in a tight line, as if deciding whether what he wanted to say should be said at all. “Did you know that he…”
“He has the nanobots in him, yes. Is that how he helped you escape?”
George paused, and he shifted his eyes toward Rotoya and Rachel. “Uh, Eric… You want to explain your new friends?”
“I think we should all catch each other up to speed.”
They retreated into the bar. By the time everyone was done talking, Kaela had finished Rotoya’s bottle of wine and was working on a second, rubbing her temples. Nobody had managed to escape the Rose, as far as George knew. Caleb had been too fast, too wild in his rampage.
Kaela’s eyes were watery. Eric didn’t allow himself to show it, but he wished he could reach an arm out to her, tell her something to make her feel better. But no words would comfort that pain. She’d lost an entire family, and considering the heartache Eric had felt at just losing George, he could only imagine what she felt.
“So… Lance has already managed to control at least two of the guards,” Derek said following a long silence.
George nodded. He glanced at Eric every few seconds as if he couldn’t believe he was here.
How long did he think he would be stuck in that cell? Did he think he’d be forgotten? The thought itself put a dark hole in Eric’s chest. He owed Lance. If Lance hadn’t found him, Eric might never have known George survived the fire.
He shook the thought away when Kaela spoke.
“So he’s making progress,” Kaela said, her words starting to slur. She blinked like she realized it and slid the bottle away. “Do you think Caleb caught on?”
George shook his head. “That’s what I’m concerned about. He made one of the guards attack the other two at the exit. And I think he made the other one fire gunshots in the basement to distract them.”
“If Caleb suspects anything, Lance could be in trouble.” Kaela didn’t look at Eric, but the worry behind her eyes said it all. If Lance was in danger, Eric would burn down all of Landreau Corp to get to him.
“Wait.” Rotoya stared at nothing for a moment. “I think something’s coming.”
After a moment, they moved. Eric ordered George to hide in the cellar. Derek climbed the stairwell of the neighboring building, and Eric and Kaela buried themselves in the alley, weapons at the ready. Rotoya stood in front of the bar.
A vehicle sped toward them—an armored vehicle, judging by the heavy rumble of its engine.
Eric’s adrenaline pumped, and he balanced on his feet as he crouched. He was ready to spring. The darkness of the alley sheltered him.
Headlights flashed, and an armored vehicle parked in front of Rotoya and Rachel. One step on the gas pedal, and it would run them over.
No soldiers clambered out. Rotoya cocked her head to the side as she stepped toward the armored vehicle. Then the door opened.
Caleb stepped out.
Rotoya hesitated then sauntered to Caleb with her chin high. “Still haven’t found anything. We’ve been waiting for backup forever. What took you so long? And where are the officers I asked for?” She looked back at where Rachel was leaned against the wall.
Caleb looked up at the night sky with a smile on his face. A cool night breeze whistled past as if he had summoned it himself.
Eric gripped his cane tighter. A charge hung in in the air. A fight was coming.
Caleb looked Rotoya in the eye. Something in the wind faltered. Caleb’s veins flashed, and he backhanded her.
Rotoya flew back, shattering the glass window and landing on a table. The wood splintered beneath her weight. Rachel called her name and sprinted to her side. Rotoya coughed, and purple blood spilled from her mouth. She pressed a hand to her burns, and when she removed it, her palm was covered with violet blood.
Eric flinched when Caleb spoke.
“I know you’re here, Eric!” Caleb yelled. “What a clever little plan you cooked up. Bring Lance to me, wrapped up in a little bow so he can control my men like puppets.” He laughed. “I appreciate the effort, I really do. And as a gesture of good faith, I’ll give you one hour to come to Landreau Corp, or I kill your son. I think we’ve all had our fun playing cat and mouse.”
* * *
Derek’s finger itched to pull the trigger. He had a direct shot at Caleb’s head. If he fired a few rounds into each of his legs, then his head, maybe it would be enough of a distraction for Kaela and Eric to come in and separate his head from his neck. Anger burned his skin with every word Caleb spoke. He was alone, vulnerable. It was almost too easy.
He looked down the alley where Eric and Kaela were hiding, searching for some approval or disapproval from Eric, some other opinion besides his own. His mind was too clouded by revenge.
He spotted them crouched and waiting. Eric looked up at Derek and shook his head. No.
The sight sent a prickle of white-hot rage up Derek’s spine. His instincts told him no, as well—told him that a lone man standing in the middle of the street, almost asking to be shot, was an obvious trap. Even so, the monster was in his sights.
Rob flashed in his eyes. His body appeared behind Caleb, lying in a pool of his own blood. He twitched then went still. It was the chief who had pulled the trigger, and his rage for her still held strong. But it was Caleb who’d controlled her, who’d made her see the world through his sick perspective. As far as he was concerned, they were both responsible.
He pulled the trigger.