4. Chapter Four Skylar
Chapter Four: Skylar
T he door groaned on its hinges, and I smirked. Two guards stomped in, their boots scuffing the damp concrete floor. They had the swagger of men who thought themselves untouchable. Poor sods.
“Ah, brilliant,” I said, leaning back as far as the ropes would allow. “Room service. Took you long enough. What’s the special today? Gruel? Or gruel with a side of piss?”
The stocky one—short, squat, and with a face like a mashed potato—glared at me. “Shut up.”
“Ooh, a man of few words. Very intimidating,” I quipped. “But let me guess, you’re the muscle. And your mate here”—I nodded at the taller one, all sharp angles and a perpetual scowl—“he’s the brains, yeah? Or is that giving him too much credit?”
“Skylar,” Justice hissed, her tone sharp enough to cut steel. “Not now.”
I turned my cheeky grin on her and winked. “What? Just trying to make friends. Team-building and all that. You’re always going on about how I need to work on my people skills.”
Stocky shoved the taller one aside and stomped toward me, face flushed with anger. “You think this is funny, you little shit?”
“No, mate. I think you’re funny,” I said, cocking my head. “Tell me, do you practice that scowl in the mirror, or is it just a natural gift? Your mother must have wept when she saw you at the hospital.”
His fist came fast—too fast to dodge completely. Pain exploded across my cheek as my head snapped to the side. Stars danced in my vision, and I tasted blood.
“Skylar!” Justice’s voice rang out, sharp and panicked.
I rolled my jaw and spat blood onto the floor. “Bloody hell. That all you’ve got? My step dad hit harder than that, and she’s been dead for twenty years.”
Stocky growled and raised his fist again, but Tall stepped in. “Enough. We’re supposed to move them, not break them.”
“Shame,” I said, licking the blood from my lip. “I was just starting to enjoy myself.”
Tall ignored me, turning to Justice. “You first.”
Her face went pale, but she straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“That’s cute,” Tall said, grabbing her arm and yanking her upright. Her chair wobbled, the legs screeching against the concrete.
I saw red. “Oi, hands off her!” I snarled, twisting against the ropes. They bit into my wrists, but I didn’t care. “You don’t want to piss me off, mate. Trust me.”
Stocky laughed. “What are you gonna do, tied up like that? Glare us to death?”
The ropes around my wrists strained, and I felt something shift—just slightly. A splinter of hope lodged in my chest. Maybe the bastards hadn’t tied me as tight as they thought.
“Oh, believe me. That’s the least of your worries,” I said, grinning through the blood staining my teeth.
While they manhandled Justice, I flexed my wrists again, testing the give in the ropes. They bit into my skin, but I kept going, twisting and pulling until I felt the first coil slip loose. I gritted my teeth against the pain, using the guards’ distraction to my advantage.
Justice’s eyes widened, her gaze darting between us.
He was about to see me when Justice spat on him, the glob landing squarely on Stocky’s cheek. His face contorted with rage, and he froze for a beat, as if deciding between murder and humiliation. Tall barked out a sharp laugh.
“Looks like the lady’s got more fight in her than you do,” Tall said, smirking at his companion.
“Bitch!” Stocky snarled, raising a meaty hand toward Justice.
My heart clenched, but before he could strike, Justice smirked—cool, controlled, a spark of defiance blazing in her eyes. “What’s wrong, tough guy? Afraid of a little spit?”
That was my cue. As Stocky lunged for her, his focus entirely on her, I twisted my wrists sharply. The rope burned against my skin, but it gave, unraveling just enough for me to wrench my hands free. My fingers tingled with the rush of blood, but there was no time to savor the relief.
Stocky was mid-swing when I sprang from the chair. Using every ounce of momentum, I brought my elbow crashing down onto the back of his neck. He crumpled like a stack of bricks, his body hitting the floor with a satisfying thud.
Tall’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide with surprise. “What the—”
I didn’t let him finish. Grabbing the chair leg from my toppled seat, I swung it upward into his ribs. The crack of wood against bone echoed in the room. He staggered, clutching his side, and I didn’t hesitate. I drove the chair leg into his gut, doubling him over, then swung it into the side of his head.
Justice was still bound, her chair rocking dangerously as she struggled against the ropes. “Skylar!” she barked. “A little help!”
“Hang tight, pet,” I said, panting as I grabbed a jagged piece of the broken chair leg. I knelt beside her and began sawing through the ropes, my eyes darting toward the door every few seconds. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she hissed, her voice sharp but steady. “Just hurry.”
Behind me, I heard a groan. Stocky was stirring, his hand reaching for the gun holstered at his side. My blood ran cold.
“Bash!” I shouted, tossing the broken chair leg toward him. Bound or not, the man was a force of nature. Bash caught the jagged wood between his hands and drove it into Stocky’s wrist before he could grab the gun. Stocky howled, his body jerking as blood splattered the floor.
“That’ll teach you,” Bash rumbled, his voice calm despite the chaos.
Justice’s ropes finally snapped, and she scrambled to her feet, grabbing Stocky’s gun from his hip. Her hands were unsteady, but her aim was sure as she pointed it at Tall, who was struggling to stand.
“Don’t,” she warned, her voice like steel.
Tall froze, his hands raised, his face a mask of pain and fury. “You think this ends here?” he spat. “You’ve just made it worse for yourselves.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving a hand dismissively as I cut through Bash’s ropes. “Tell it to someone who cares, mate.”
The moment Bash’s hands were free, he was on his feet, his broad frame towering over Tall. “Get the door,” he said to me, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I moved quickly, checking the hallway. It was empty for now, but the faint echo of boots told me reinforcements weren’t far off. “We’ve got company coming,” I said, grabbing a second gun from the floor and tossing it to Bash.
Justice had already moved to the doorway, her gun trained on the hall. “Which way?”
“Left,” Bash said, grabbing Stocky by the collar and dragging him to his feet. “He’s coming with us.”
“What?” I asked, incredulous. “We’re taking the deadweight?”
“He knows the layout,” Bash growled, shoving the dazed guard forward. “He’s leverage.”
Tall started to move, but Justice turned her gun on him. “Not you,” she said coldly. “Stay put.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Tall snarled, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t stupid enough to test her aim.
“Skylar, let’s go!” Justice barked.
We moved quickly, Bash pushing Stocky ahead of us like a human shield. The hallway stretched on, dimly lit and eerily quiet except for the distant sound of approaching guards.
“Pick up the pace,” I said, my grip tightening on the chair leg I’d kept as a backup weapon. “Unless you want to explain to your mates why you’re bleeding.”
I was surprised we hadn’t ran into anyone else yet. I didn’t know how far we could go without finding someone else—and there was no way to know if he was leading us into a trap.
Justice was unsteady on her feet, bruises on her soft skin. The fact that she had been hurt made me want to loun
Stocky grunted but stumbled forward, leading us down a series of winding corridors. Each turn felt like a gamble, but Bash’s instincts were razor-sharp. When we reached a set of metal stairs, Bash shoved Stocky against the wall.
“Where does this lead?” he demanded.
“Loading dock,” Stocky wheezed. “You’ll never make it out.”
“That’s our problem,” Bash said, slamming the man’s head against the wall hard enough to knock him unconscious.
Justice grabbed my arm, her voice urgent. “We need to move. Now.”
The sound of boots was closer now, echoing through the halls like a drumbeat of doom. I grinned, adrenaline buzzing in my veins.
“After you, love,” I said, gesturing to the stairs.
Justice rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, leading the way as we bolted up the steps. Bash was right behind her, and I brought up the rear, the chair leg still gripped tightly in my hand.
The loading dock door loomed ahead, heavy and foreboding. Justice hesitated for only a second before kicking it open. Sunlight flooded the narrow stairwell, blinding and disorienting after the dim confines of the prison.
“Move!” Bash barked, pushing us through the door.
The fresh air hit me like a slap, and I sucked in a lungful, my body buzzing with the thrill of freedom. But there was no time to celebrate. Guards were shouting behind us, their voices growing louder.
“Skylar!” Justice yelled, pointing toward a parked van. “Keys!”
I spotted the set dangling from a guard’s belt as he rounded the corner. Without thinking, I sprinted toward him, dodging his clumsy swing and driving the chair leg into his gut. He crumpled, and I snatched the keys from his belt.
“Got ‘em!” I shouted, tossing them to Justice.
She caught them deftly and bolted for the van, Bash close on her heels. I turned to follow, but a bullet whizzed past my ear, forcing me to dive for cover.
“Hurry up, Skylar!” Justice yelled, the van’s engine roaring to life.
I scrambled to my feet, dodging another shot as I sprinted for the open van door. Bash grabbed my arm and hauled me inside as Justice floored it, the tires screeching against the asphalt.
The guards fired after us, but the van roared forward, the prison shrinking in the rearview mirror. My heart pounded as I collapsed onto the floor, grinning up at Bash and Justice.
“Well,” I said, breathless and bloodied. “That was fun.”
I just didn’t know how long the fun was going to last for. And I didn’t like that.