20. Remy
Chapter twenty
Remy
I have the pistol tucked in the belt I took from the guard, but a shot would likely draw the wrong kind of attention. I could tell by the weight that it’s loaded, though I don’t know how many shots I’ll get out of it, so I leave my hand to hover on my belt, where the taser is stashed away safely. A second too soon or a second too late, and I could ruin everything. It’s why I chose the knife for this, but I won’t begrudge a victim the sense of security that comes from holding it.
The guards leaving are caught up in conversation, one staring down at his phone and the other peering over his shoulder as they barely even move out the door. “But did you see the spark? Look at that! It’s just one last big— there !” He jabs a finger at his phone, highlighting the moment he wants his coworker to witness.
I see Kent glance at me from the corner of my eye, indicating the unexpected opportunity we’ve been presented. A curt nod tells me he’s going for the one directly before him, which leaves me the one looking over his friend’s shoulder at the phone.
Fortunately, Kent knows exactly what he’s doing. I may be faking it, but he moves with confidence, casual and quiet, as he strides to the two like he, too, wants to see what’s on the phone. And just as they look up to share their excitement, Kent’s hands close around his twig-like neck.
Confusion is still trying to dawn on the guard’s face when I slip the taser from my pocket and hold it to his neck.
I’ve never used one of these before—I’m not sure how long you’re supposed to hold it, or how long it would take to immobilize him. It’s not enough to kill him alone, but I feel his body stiffen against mine as I wrap my arm around his throat, putting him in a headlock he’s hopeless to escape, and use my strength to pin him in place for the electricity to do its thing.
Next to me, the man who Kent attacked is turning purple, his eyes bulging as his body strains for air. I can’t focus on him, though, when I’m putting every bit of my energy into crushing the windpipe of the man against me. His body is stiff and heavy, and he smells of greasy French fries and piss, but I focus ahead of me. We left the door open so that it wouldn’t raise suspicions while we take them out, and I’m diligently focused on the gaudy artwork in the hall—until the woman—Number 2278—stands, coming out from her hiding spot.
I squeeze both my arm and the button of the taser tighter as she draws near without even glancing around to be sure that no one is around to see her.
“Hide!” I manage to growl at her, breathless as I funnel all of the energy I’ve ever had into this man’s death. He could be dead already, for all I know, and just not seem that way because of the electricity I’m pumping into his body.
I don’t know how much time has passed; I just know that I haven’t yet felt his throat collapse under the pressure.
She doesn’t stop or turn to run. Instead, she comes closer, walking slowly but with purpose. Her eyes make contact with mine for one brief moment, just long enough to show me she’s lucid, and then she drives the knife into his stomach. I drop the taser, letting the world come back to me a little, to hear the sound of the squelch as she draws it back out. A little sound comes from the back of the guard’s throat, but I know it wasn’t intentional, since he hasn’t taken any air into his lungs for at least two minutes.
Without the electricity, I can feel him slump against me, his weight threatening to knock me back into the panel of cameras behind us. I let him fall, stepping out of the way to avoid wearing his blood as he falls upon the ground… next to the man Kent took out a moment before.
By the time I look up, he’s already shut and locked the door behind us and is striding back to the communications panel, assessing the array of screens, buttons, and levers. It looks like how I imagine a submarine or a rocket, and I don’t even know the beginning of what means what. Killing comes naturally to Kent, but this he studied for. His eyes sweep the panels, and then he turns to the woman with us, her eyes narrowed as she watches us, still unsure whether she can trust us. “What’s your name?”
She only hesitates a moment, and then she must decide she’ll give us this. “Kaia.”
“Kaia.” He nods. “I’m Kent. That’s Remy. We’re here to free you… all of you.”
Kaia’s eyes narrow more, sliding from him to me. “Why?”
I would laugh if the adrenaline wasn’t coursing through me so fast that I feel out of control. “Because what happens here? Those are crimes against humanity. And I have a foolish hope for humanity, okay? So, we’re gonna get you all out of here. But you’re in this now. Do you understand?” Kaia looks like she doesn’t, but she nods anyway, causing him to continue. “If they catch us, they’ll only kill us. But if they catch you…”
“Worse than death.” She agrees, turning her eyes toward the screens. “You will free everyone?”
I’m opening my mouth to say we’re going to try, but Kent speaks first. “Every last one. But we need your help. You’ve got to convince them to come with us, okay, Kaia? Can you do that?”
I glance at my watch and then up at the screens to scan for movement. They aren’t set to a single station, each of the nine panels flashing between different parts of the property, the cells.
“Why me?” Kaia asks, turning toward me now. “Why do I have to?”
“Because you saw that we’re serious. And if you watch the screens—” I tap the display of one as it flickers over to a view of a clearing, and the ATV emerging from it. It’s impossible to see who is on it from the slightly pixelated view, but the lack of uniform assures me it’s one of our men. “These are more people here to help.”
“Some of the people here—” Kent says calmly, “They’ve been here so long, they don’t know much else. Some of them are so scared that they would rather the devil they know. Some of them won’t understand. But you can make them, okay?”
The first real hint of fear I’ve seen in her shines in her dark eyes, but she swallows it down and nods, taking on the burden we shouldn’t have to place on her. “What do I do?”
“Just get them to trust us. As many as you can. Don’t fight with them, don’t try to reason. You just tell as many of them as you can that this isn’t a trick, and we will handle the rest. Can you do that?”
Kaia nods, and Kent cracks a grin, his white teeth gleaming. He looks more like a politician than a soldier right now, but his eyes are genuine, and he’s full of purpose. “I’m so proud of you.” He tells her, nodding.
And then he turns to the dashboard behind us and locates the button he needs.
“The outside is more heavily staffed than the inside because they’re arrogant. They trusted that their fortress couldn’t be taken, but they’re wrong. We have to at least consider we may be wrong, too. There could be more guards that we don’t know about.” His eyes flash to me, making sure I’m listening. “Men’s and women’s cells are on separate sides, and we’re freeing them all. When I disengage the locks on the cells, chaos is going to happen. Keep a clear head, Boudreaux.” I nod. “I’ll go to the men’s cells. I have a bit more experience with captive men—prisoners of war.” He clears his throat. “You and Kaia will have to sprint to the women’s cells. There are more of them, and it’s gonna take you both staying calm but urgent. Got it?”
I nod, preparing to ask again about John, but he shakes his head real quick, like he’s trying to clear his head of something. It’s just a moment, and then he nods, let’s out a small breath, and slams his hand over the button. There’s a strange clicking sound, as if the locks disengaging are on the other side of the door.
“Go!” He tells us.
We don’t have to be told twice.
I seize Kaia by the wrist and pull her with me, through the door that automatically opened when Kent did the override, and toward the staircase. She doesn’t try to pull out of my grip or slow down, running with me, our footfalls in step as we thunder down the stairs into the empty foyer. I see the knife in her free hand, and idly think about how dangerous it is to run down steps with such a jagged knife in her hand. It’s a stupid thought, a random moment of clarity in the chaos of my heart pounding, sweat rolling down my back, and my chest feeling like it may implode.
The grates on either side of the foyer have been opened, and I can hear a tangle of noise coming from both sides. It encompasses us as we run straight into it, a thousand different sounds of confusion and excitement and cries so plentiful that they converge into one thing so loud it makes my ears ring.
And then, as they run at us, the high-pitched whine gets so loud it bursts into silence. It’s like when you watch a bomb explode in a movie, and then an unsettling quiet sweeps in. But I can’t be bothered to think about how unnerving it is, because I’m not feeling much of anything as we watch the scene unfold, running against the traffic.
The first few women don’t even spare us a glance, sprinting straight for the front door that has been left wide open, letting the low afternoon sun filter into the center of the room to illuminate the dust motes drifting through the air.
Just like my ears couldn’t distinguish their noises, my eyes can’t pick any identifying features about them. I just know that there are a few of them, and they run out without hesitation, not bothering to glance at Kaia or me .
One woman turns to look behind her as she runs, and with my eyes focused on the dozens of heads behind her, I don’t see her until she rams square into my chest. The force knocks her backwards, and her eyes round with shock, but she moves quickly around me, and I obviously don’t stop her.
It’s Kaia who brings me back to myself, wrenching her hand free of mine. Some doors stand completely open, and others sit just a little ajar, the locks clearly disengaged, but the inhabitants less trusting of the circumstances. I don’t hear what Kaia says—I still feel like a bomb exploded at my feet—but I see her point at me, and I meet the eyes of the woman in the cell. They’re electric blue, brilliant and wild against her dark skin, and just like that, she shocks me into action.
“Everyone out!” I say quickly, using my arm to motion toward the door. There’s a sudden scurry as people hurry to comply with my demand, the guard’s uniform making them believe it would be wise to follow my orders.
More doors open, and women stream out of them, some without sparing me a glance and others without ever taking their eyes off me, like I may attack once their backs are to me. I don’t spare them any further attention, moving to the back of the hall, ushering more people out of cells, calmly and firmly telling everyone to get out.
When I reach the end of the hall and turn back, it seems like I’ve walked a mile. The air feels thick and the light from the other side seems so far. I can’t see Kaia anymore between the sea of bodies frantically moving, running into one another, some embracing, others pushing their way to the front.
I feel faint, remembering my first time visiting cells like these. There are so many more here than there ever were back then, but the setup is similar, the disdain is identical. Bare cells with dirty mattresses haunt me, reminding me of the feel of being slumped on one of them, feeling her move up and down on me, leaving my cock covered in her blood and my cum .
I try to move back to the exit, but my feet feel as heavy as the air, and I stumble. At the last minute, I grab hold of the bars of a cell, keeping me from going down, and stare at the ground, trying to breathe. It isn’t the memory itself that hurts. I was drugged, and even though I hadn’t wanted Genevieve, I’d thought in the moment that I was with the woman I loved. But everything that comes after that?
That fucking hurts.
Davos telling me my father had raped her before she did the same to me, telling me that we breed our soldiers, Genevieve showing up at my doorstep, her telling me she was pregnant, and then telling me…
I struggle to breathe through my lungs that feel like they’ve been crushed into powder dust, and glance up to see movement in the cell opposite me. It’s a flash of silver hair as the occupant tries to hide, tucking it into her knees and letting it curtain over her face.
Having someone else to focus on dulls the pain the way it always does, and I drag myself up, pulling fresh air into my lungs. “You have to leave.” I say, rapping my knuckles on the bars to try and grab the girl’s attention. She doesn’t move so much as an inch—she’s gone on the defensive like a turtle that crawled inside its shell.
Except, she’s still vulnerable.
“I won’t hurt you.” I say, speaking louder. “But you have to get out. Now!”
She still doesn’t react, and the hall is clearing out before us, the sound receding with the tide of bodies. We’re running out of time until we get discovered, and I can’t have a plane full of escapees and my crew waiting for me to convince this girl to come. I know better than to use force, but I have to at least get closer to her so that she has no choice but to listen to me.
I enter the cell slowly, cautiously, with my hands raised to show her I haven’t come to harm her. But even when I step right in front of her, she doesn’t look up to see me, and she gives no indication that she knows I’m here, so I drop down to her height and reach an arm out, placing a gentle hand on hers. Unsurprisingly, she stiffens.
“We have to go!” I tell her, my voice losing any bit of the calm fa?ade I may have had before. Or rather, my detachment is starting to wane as the urgency of the situation increases.
We’re definitely blowing past our timeline here. It feels as though I’ve been in this building for ages. I wonder if time works differently here for everyone. If I feel like the last hour has been a week, how must these prisoners feel?
When I’m only ignored again, I sweep the hair out of her face, trying to find the woman’s eyes so that I can appeal to her. Except, when I find them, I realize she’s not a woman.
Her round face is thin from lack of care rather than growing out of her youth, and her wide eyes are full of tears and terror, both of which brim over, leaving paths on her dirty cheeks.
She’s a girl, far too young to be in a place like this. Not that anyone should be in a place like this, the least of which is a damn child. Nausea curls in my stomach and anger lights in my veins, but my mouth twitches into something like a smile. “It’s okay,” I tell her softly, her fear quelling my panic. “But we have to go.”
She only stares at me as she silently cries, her silver hair sticking to her pale face. I glance up, looking for any sign of Kaia, but when I don’t find her, I decide I’m going to have to go off the script here. “It’s okay,” I say again, moving to grab her around the waist.
Her bones are frail and sharp under her skin—I feel every inch of them as I pull her into me. She doesn’t fight against me, for all of her fear, refusing to uncoil even as I lift her into my arms and tuck her against my chest. Her whole body trembles against me, her sharp shins biting into my arm as I wrap one around her and use the other to support her back. She’s lighter than any human should be, I think, but my grip on her is awkward… even more so when I begin to run, tucking her tighter against me.
I don’t slow down to take in any of what is unfolding around me. I don’t look for the faces I recognize, don’t bother trying to distinguish friend from foe. My entire focus is on the girl in my arms and getting her to safety.
When I break out into the courtyard, it is every bit of the chaos that Kent predicted. Right there in the middle of the front lawn is the giant plane we arrived in. I knew that Kent was going to disable the airspace radar when he tripped the door locks, but something about seeing the great thing in a place it’s not supposed to be is bizarre. It almost makes me want to laugh as I stumble through the groups of people standing around, looking confused, scared, suspicious.
Once I spot Rook ushering a group of women to the plane, where Dom helps pull them up into the open cargo space, I feel a little more in control. From the corner of my eye, I catch Kaia, motioning emphatically toward the plane to a group of three women. And beyond them, there’s two men rushing at them.
I freeze, preparing to reach for the gun, but the men run past them, hands raised and mostly nude as they run for their escape. Harley motions them onward, up the ramp of the cargo door, and then glances up at me.
“Boudreaux!”
It’s Rich, standing there with a rifle in his hand, that spurs me forward, creating a path through the people fighting to get into the plane. They look almost like zombies, desperately trying to get to the living in the plane, to become one of them. They clear a path for me at Rich’s request, and I pass the small girl off into Dom’s arms. He turns with her, and Harley follows him, leaving Michael and Victor to come fill the space they vacate.
I lock eyes with Victor, registering his shock and horror as Michael begins to take over for Dom, pulling people forward onto the back of the plane one by one. Dimitri moves behind him, passing out blankets and sheets for the survivors to cover themselves. I know that the senator has been in war zones, that he’s seen things I haven’t, but the look he’s fixing me with assures me we’re in a nightmare unlike any he’s ever witnessed .
He recovers quickly, taking a stack of blankets that Dimitri passes him, draping them around the shoulders of people as they board the plane. Michael passes me a rifle. Now that we’ve given ourselves away here, I may as well upgrade.
I turn, surveying what’s left behind us. The house stands still against a darkening sky, eerily quiet. I grab the pistol too as I walk back toward it, afraid that we’re forgetting something… someone.
Where are the masters? And for that matter, where is John?
A young man streaks past me so fast I feel like I’m standing still rather than moving deliberately forward. Kent appears in the doorway, a trickle of blood running down his forehead. His brow furrows as he takes in the scene before him, and then his gaze cuts to mine. “You get ‘em all?”
“Harley’s supposed to be keeping count. I haven’t seen John?” My statement comes out as a question.
He shakes his head, answering what I didn’t explicitly ask.
Something’s wrong.