Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
My frame swayed, oxygen barely grazing my lungs.
Death would have been a mercy.
I was back in a nightmare that I barely made it out of last time. And I did only because my life was worth Eliza and Simon’s. If I hadn’t been, Warwick would have killed me in the pit that night.
It was bad enough to go through this once—a system that purposely killed almost everyone off. I knew I couldn’t survive this again, especially mentally.
On a surface level, I comprehended what was around me, the mix of stone, iron, goblin metal, and dirt walls suffocating me.
I just couldn’t accept it. I was walking a see-through line of sanity and consciousness.
A feral instinct to protect myself burrowed in, the place you go when terror takes over, and you are no longer in charge.
The bone-grinding, gut-wrenching horror spreading across your limbs like poison.
“Come look, fishes!” Boyd sneered, motioning for us to look at our new abode.
The setup was similar to Halálház, but this time it was bigger, modern, and a lot more high-tech.
Instead of being square, it had circular levels with a catwalk ringing around the cells and a guard tower in the middle, which went from floor to ceiling.
Every five floors, they placed a guard station from which they could watch the inmates.
The doors on the cells looked reinforced, the bars thicker.
The round space stretched a block long, fitting in thousands of cells, rising at least thirty stories. The torture of the noise bouncing off the metal cells every moment of the day, with no peace, shredded into my psyche.
There were passageways leading off to locations like communal bathrooms, a mess hall, and workrooms. It may look upgraded, but it was the same. A place to come and die.
The loud clang of boots indicated a group of prisoners being led to their cells. Their faces were streaked with horror, hair wet, hands holding a blanket and toiletries, dressed in issued uniforms. Gray, blue, yellow, and red walked around a lower level.
The place had been all set up and running previously. Istvan merely had to step in and continue with only a few alterations.
Catcalls came from the few occupied cells, flicking at the trauma I tried so hard to move past. All around us were the sounds of people throwing up, sobbing, and pleading. Every sense I had was drowning in distress, robbing me of strength.
“Whoa, girl.” A familiar voice sneered in my ear, hands clutching my hips as I started to drop.
“Go ahead and throw up. They all do at some point.” The same voice, the same sentiment—I went right back to standing at Halálház, dressed in just a t-shirt, terrified but unaware of the true horror in front of me. What I would have to do to survive.
My head whipped back to the man who brought me into Halálház last time, this time without his demon partner.
Golden feline eyes glowered back at me.
“Zion . . .” I croaked at the cat-shifter.
“Oh, you remembered. Guess I do leave an impression.”
No words could leave my mouth, the questions being overridden by my fear. If this was still under Killian’s control, I could see why they were here, but it wasn’t. Did they not know that? Or worse, if they did—why were they working for a human?
My mind grazed at the thought: Was Killian actually behind this? Was this all a ruse?
“Don’t you love the first day of camp? Brings back memories, huh?” Zion patted my ass. “And here we did all these improvements for you.” Giving me a wink, he strolled to the front of the group, holding up his arms.
“I’m Zion, your camp check-in leader and counselor.
I also help check you out if you decide you don’t want to be here.
” Sardonic and cruel, he smiled gleefully.
He motioned to Boyd. “This is Boyd. He’s in charge of your camp activities.
Though I warn you, he doesn’t like being asked questions.
Puts him in a very bad mood.” Boyd and Zion shared a sinister grin.
“Let’s go get you guys checked in and all settled into your bunkers, so we can get to arts and crafts later.
” Zion motioned for the group to follow, his order reinforced by a dozen guards with guns, propelling us forward.
I tried to look back and see if Warwick had been brought down yet, but there was no sign of the next group behind us. They were making sure to keep us separated and in numbers they could handle.
“Brexley?” Rosie called out for me, my name rattling through her teeth. Through the group, my gaze caught hers. Dread was stamped across her face, her body shaking.
“Move it, whore!” a guard rammed his rifle into her back, stumbling her forward.
“It will be all right.” I lied, forcing my face to look reassuring when her eyes darted back to me again. “Just do as they say.”
“Liar.” Birdie hissed next to me, just loud enough for me to hear. “It’s not going to be all right, is it? I can’t feel my magic.”
I couldn’t hide the truth in my eyes from Birdie.
Wesley, Zuz, and Birdie all had their expressions locked down, like they were undaunted.
I came in the same way last time, believing the facade would fool those who were enduring this hell.
Now, I could see how thin the disguise was, how easily it could be torn into shreds.
They had no idea how quickly their beliefs and morals became the tissue they’d wipe with, flushing it away when survival became the only goal each day.
I knew too much. Only a few here understood the true horrors of this fae prison, and sadly, one of them was dead, her blood still staining M?dach Těr. I would wish Ling back alive, and if I had my powers, I would have brought her back. But maybe she got the better way out, the merciful way.
Swallowing, I marched forward, the panic coursing through my veins numbing me. The sharp aroma of chlorine and disinfectant drove my teeth into my lip until it started to bleed, pushing every memory I tried to forget up.
The room was almost identical to the last one, separating us into categories, though this time the staff wasn’t fae .
. . or at least they weren’t at one time.
Men and women wore guard uniforms, their movements precise and robotic, with extra gruffness.
And once again, most I didn’t recognize.
There were two I recalled from the class below mine, but no one else.
Nothing was making sense.
Sliding in next to Rosie, I put myself in the human line. I was more human than I had been last time, but I also didn’t want to give Istvan or anyone else an idea anything might be different about me.
“What’s happening?” Rosie whispered to me. Her entire world had been utterly flipped upside down in a matter of hours. Her home being blown up, then landing in a fae prison, where even she knew you didn’t get out.
Focusing on her helped my panic over knowing what was coming and the screams I heard on the other side of the wall.
“Rosie.” I tried to express everything in my eyes as we got near the front. “I’m not going to lie; the next twenty minutes are going to demean you and strip you of your soul. That’s what they do here.”
“Move!” a guard yelled at me, shoving Rosie toward the doorway beyond.
“Find a way, carve a spot somewhere in yourself you can retreat. Don’t let them have any of your power. We’ll get through this.”
A sad smile hinted on her lips. “Luv, I’m a whore. Men have been degrading and demeaning me since, well, even when I was married. I have a whole world I can retreat to.”
“Next,” a woman barked at Rosie.
I stared in awe at the human woman I met just a few months ago. Beautiful, curvy, and soft, but strong as steel on the inside. If anyone could survive this place, it would probably be Rosie.
“Name?” the woman guard snapped at me, her accent hinting at Russian or Ukraine.
My eyebrows rose at the idea she didn’t know who I was, but an emptiness blanked her face.
Tempted to lie, I knew it was pointless. I already had a target on my back.
“Brexley Kovacs.” I lifted my chin.
No response.
She wrote down my name, species, and details about me like she was on a mission. To do as she was ordered. Nothing more and nothing less. Though they all had an air like they were on the cusp of aggression, their physical forms robotic, energy and life hovered just below the skin with toxic vigor.
The shower stalls were basically the same style, but newer. The smell was severe, the floor wet, showing signs groups had gone before us already.
“Strip!” Four men were in charge, their forms stiff and commanding, but I could feel a wildness in them. Excitement for their duty.
Most prisoners peered around, hesitating, unsure what to do, while I started to pull off my boots.
“Guys . . . do it,” I whispered to Wesley, Birdie, and Rosie, who were in my group.
They began too, while others stayed frozen.
“I. Said. Strip!” one bellowed, whipping out his gun and smashing the handle into the back of a woman’s head with such force, I heard her skull crack. The woman, Jo, I knew had worked next to Ling, hit the floor without even a cry, blood pooling around her, her body laying limp.
“NOW!”
Everyone responded instantly, though they kept looking at the woman, wanting to go to their friend and see if she was okay.
She wasn’t.
Tossing our clothes in the trash, they lined us up along the wall. Two doused us with disinfectant and soap while the other two held hoses like they were weapons, ready to gun us down.
The force of the ice water hit my wounds, opening them up again, the disinfectant sizzling screams up my throat.
“Scrub!”
Cries, shrieks, and sobs of people finally breaking down echoed off the walls.
We were nothing but animals in a pen. Naked, demoralized, scared, and in pain.
It didn’t matter to them that there were humans mingled in here, pure or mixed.
We were all faceless, soulless animals now, while our friend laid dead barely inches from us, her blood swirling around our feet.
Dressed in the gray uniform, used boots, and grandma underwear, I held my toiletries and blanket as salacious remarks were called at our group from different levels.
I was right back in my hell. This time the items I had on weren’t as worn, the fabric stiff and abrasive against my sensitive skin.
And the number was different—Prisoner 839.
Evidence the prison hadn’t been open and running long.
A guard I actually knew, the kid Birdie and I fought in the alley, Samu, led us to our cells. And by the glares at Birdie and me, he hadn’t forgotten.
“Prisoner 835!” Samu pointed at Rosie, then to the small cell we were passing. “You’re here.”
My gaze met hers as the sentry bookending us shoved her in, slamming the door with a clank. My heart dipped as the lock rolled over, her face peering through the bars.
Halfway down, directly in line with the guard station, he stopped again. “Prisoner 839. Your cell.” Samu motioned me in, nodding back at the station. “So we can keep an eye on you at all times.”
Empty of any fight, I stepped into the six-by-eight room, a urine hole in the corner.
A smirk hinted on his lips. “Welcome home, Kovacs.” He slammed the door, the click cutting into my bones. “It will be your last.”
He tapped the bars with his baton, waving the group to follow him. I watched Birdie, Wesley, and Zuz pass me. I couldn’t offer them anything, no words of comfort, no smile of courage.
All my phobias and trauma tore into me, sucking out my air. I wanted to scream, to wake up, to go back and stop the night’s events.
Andris, Killian, Ash, Lukas, Kek, Scorpion. My heart ached, wondering where they were, if they were okay.
But my soul screamed for him.
The man I found in House of Death.
The one who could have taken my life.
Instead, we burned that place down and rose from the ashes.
I stepped up to the bars, glancing up at the level far above where we entered. I couldn’t see him, but I swear I could feel him. His eyes were on me, and even if it was to make me feel better, I could feel him wrap around me, his voice.
“Even if we have to kill everyone here and swim through their blood . . . we will survive, Kovacs.”