Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
I can't sleep or eat. I don't know if hours, days, or weeks have passed. The only things I'm sure of are that this place took everything I love away and left me to rot inside a mountain, and that he's gone. Locked inside a holding cell, waiting to transform into one of the monsters we came here to escape. Ryland will become the Sanctuary's plaything to torture until nothing of him remains.
“Quinn?”
From my bed, I let my head loll to the side and take in my brother's form standing in my doorway. “Go away, Ridge.”
“A medic came to check on you and said you were awake but unresponsive.”
I don't remember anyone being here. Then again, I barely feel like I'm here. “Well, you can see that I am, so you can go.”
“I know you're mad at me, but?—”
“Mad?” That is the understatement of the fucking millennium.
My rage grabs hold of me. I spring from my bed and pure hatred drives me forward. My fists clench at my sides ready to strike, and my eyes sear into him, wishing I could inflict the pain on him he helped to inflict on Ryland. “You think I'm mad at you? Oh, big brother, you're sorely mistaken. I hate you with every fiber of my being. I despise every single breath you take.”
“Quinn, please listen to me.” He takes a step back, holding his hands in front of him.
“I hate you, Ridge. I fucking hate you!” I rush forward and dish out my first blow to his chest. My hands work of their own accord, swinging at his face, arms, and stomach—anywhere I can reach. “Where were you when I needed you? When he hurt me and took away my everything, where were you? I'll tell you. You watched like his good little puppet, you watched and assisted. You never came to my rescue, so don't pretend you're doing it now. Why make me care for you if you never planned on protecting me from him? Why, Ridge?”
He doesn't fight but allows me to use him as a punching bag, taking every one of my shots and only flinching. My frustration grows. I want him to fight back and put me out of my misery. I want him to hate me as much as I hate him. Then, his actions would make sense to me.
The sound of his soft baritone voice supersedes my outburst when he says, “I wish I could, but I can't.” Streams of tears trail from his eyes to his jaw.
We ended up standing in the middle of the living room, and I hunch over, sobbing. Angry, red scratches line Ridge's arms with matching imprints of my hand and fist on his face. I feel sick looking at the damage I've inflicted. I may hate him, but I don't want to be our father.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I say, dropping to my knees.
He looks at the ceiling and runs his arm over his eyes, wiping away his tears. “I've had worse.”
He doesn’t need to say it for me to know. I’ve been on the receiving end of our father’s abuse. I wasn’t the first. I was far from it.
The fragments of my broken heart splinter off into tinier pieces. In this moment, I'm no better than William Spencer. As much as I want to deny it, a piece of my father resonates with me. “Please, Ridge. I have nothing to say to you. I need you to go.”
He nods and turns to leave. Pausing at the door, he says, “I'm so sorry I couldn't be what you needed me to be, but I'll make it up to you, Quinn. I promise. I'll find a way.”
The lock I never knew was there slides into place, barricading me in my home.
I faintly remember someone coming into the house and finding me on the floor. They help me onto the couch and ramble on about making me something for dinner. Setting a plate of food on the coffee table, they announce they'll be back in the morning before leaving.
I stay on the sofa staring off into space—oblivious to time. An internal brawl takes place in me. I fight with my subconscious to let go of my last moments with Ryland and to return to our final night together in his room. I desire nothing more than to submerge my thoughts in our happiest memories. It's in these thoughts that I want to fold in on myself and simply be.
Someone enters the house again and removes my untouched food only to replace it with another plate I won't eat. They carry on a pleasant conversation with me, but I drown them out with my constant internal dialogue.
“Thank you for your help, Trish. I'll take it from here,” a recognizable voice says as he enters the living room.
“You're welcome, Major Spencer,” the woman replies before leaving.
Ridge stands over me next to the couch, his face still bearing the scratches from my fingernails. With his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants, he says, “You need to eat.”
“Fuck off.”
“I don't have the time or patience for your melodramatic-heartbroken-girl-bullshit,” he spits.
“Sucks to be you.”
“God dammit, Quinn, I'm trying to help you,” he says, raising his voice.
I close my eyes, conjuring one of the many memories I've lived in since being locked in this house. If I tune him out, he'll give up and leave me alone. It doesn't work though. He squats next to the couch and holds my face in his palms. I open my eyes and glare at him.
“You need to take a shower,” he says so softly I can hardly hear him.
“No.”
“Quinn, look at me.”
I roll my eyes before bringing them to settle on his face.
“The only way I can help you is if you take a shower.”
I furrow my brows, and he taps his finger over his ear and lips the words, “Go turn on the shower.”
I look around the room, expecting to see a little video camera or microphones hanging from the ceiling, only to find nothing out of place. But of course, nothing here is what it seems.
“You're so fucking annoying,” I say, stomping out of the room. I turn on the shower, plop down on the closed toilet seat, and wait for him to join me.
Ever so carefully, he opens the door and closes it behind him. “Sometimes, you are so dense,” he says, turning on the sink full blast.
“Is that how they found out what we were up to? The house is bugged?” I ask.
He sits on the ground with his back to the door. “Yeah, Dad became suspicious of you after you kept sneaking out to see Shaw, so he had the bugs installed while you were at work.”
I cringe, frustrated with myself for being so careless. I should have known. William had already shown a disregard for my privacy, but I stupidly thought I was outsmarting him.
Ridge fidgets with a piece of thread hanging from the cuff of his uniform jacket and says, “Look, you have an hour to get yourself together.”
“For what?”
“There's a mandatory meeting to discuss protocol if the traitors who tried to kidnap the president's daughter return.”
I shake my head at the lie, remembering how he continually weaved lies about me. “God forbid that people find out how fucked up his family is. He's absolutely despicable.”
“Hey!” Ridge waves his hand in front of my face. “I need you to listen to me.”
I pull my legs up on the toilet and wrap my arms around them, giving my brother my undivided attention.
“Everyone will meet in the park for the briefing. It’s expected to last an hour. So, you will need to move quickly and keep a low profile.” He hands me my keycard. “It still works and will give you access to everything, including the labs with the cure. During the last half an hour, an alarm will be triggered in the testing area. That should pull the guards from the front booth and give you a chance to run. You will have twenty minutes at best after it happens. Shaw is going to be all over the place after you administer the antidote to him. He might not even be alert. I wish I could give you more time, but it’s the best I can do.”
I sit straight. “Will it even work on him after so long?”
Ridge squints his eyes. “It's only been twenty-four hours, but his cravings are setting in. You must be careful. Even though he looks like himself, he's dangerous, Quinn. If he attacks you, I can promise that Dad won't issue you the cure.”
I breathe through the nausea of my turning stomach. I can’t believe it’s only been twenty-four hours. I feel like I’ve been living this hell for weeks.
“Why are you doing this, Ridge? You know there's a chance we'll get caught, and William will take it out on the both of us.”
“You wanted me to act like your big brother. Well, here it is.”
“Come with us.” I'm not sure what compels me to say it. If he came with us, the group would never trust him. I honestly don’t know if I can either.
“I belong here. I’m not wired like you. A day out of the safety of this place and I’d be dead.”
It’s a lame excuse not to leave. I don’t understand it at all. But I do know about self-preservation, and how it makes you do things you never thought you would. It doesn’t justify any of this. It’s just the damning and selfish truth of the world we live in.
“This is all up to you,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I can't help you beyond what I've already done. If you and Shaw are caught after leaving this mountain, I will shoot if I'm ordered to do so. I love you, Quinn. You're an amazing girl, and if things were different, I would've been proud to have you as my little sister, but they're not. I have my mom to protect, and I think you of all people can understand that there are no limits to what I'll do to keep her safe.”
Another thing about his life I don’t understand, but I can't blame him for protecting his mother. If it came down to him or River, I'd choose her over him in a second. He doesn't hold the same importance to me as my cousin. My sisterly bond with her surpasses almost all else.
Ridge gets to his feet and brushes off his uniform. “Listen for the lock on the front door to unlatch and then go.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “Be careful and get the hell out of here, do you understand me?”
“Yes, brother.”
“Be safe, little sis.”
With that, our final and most substantial sibling moment ends. It's not perfect, and it won't go down in history as the most sacrificial story of a brother and sister. It’s fucked up, filled with love and hate, but it's ours.
After he leaves, I jump into the now cold shower and repeat the process I did just yesterday. My backpack with my necessities was returned to my quarters with me and dropped by my front door. Thankfully, nothing is missing, including the ring in the side pocket. I pull it out and slip it on my finger. It’s a reminder of everything I’m fighting for.
I take a large knife from the cutting block in the kitchen and make a sheath for it out of a form-fitting leather dress in my closet, securing it to my waist with a black belt. Thinking about the state I might find Ryland in; I grab two bottles of water and a couple of protein bars. As ready as I can be, I return to the plate in the living room and eat to get my energy up. Every bite is tasteless, trumped by the anxiety of waiting for the door to unlock.
With my final bite, the door clicks. I stare at it and run my hand over the knife at my hip. If I’m caught again, I won't go down so easily. I fling my stocked backpack over my shoulders and open the door with trembling hands. With one last bit of self-assurance that everything will be all right, I set out to cure Ryland and get us the hell out of the Sanctuary once and for all.