Chapter 22
Finn
I wake up in a room I don’t recognize. The last thing I remember is being pulled away as I tried to reach Caden.
They dragged me through a side exit and shoved me into a car, then gave me something to drink.
I was dying of thirst, so I drank it all, but there must have been something in the drink, because I don’t remember anything after that.
I sit up with a grunt of pain. My face feels swollen, my ribs bruised, maybe even cracked.
I’m wearing clean underwear and nothing else, with bandages covering my bruises and cuts.
The moments of terror in the arena are blurry in my mind, but I do remember feeling relieved at the deaths of my rivals.
Once my dizziness passes, I open the blinds, blinking at the strong sunlight.
Denver sprawls in front of me, many floors down.
I can see the large arena from up here, and it makes me nauseous.
I have no idea where I am right now or whether Caden is here as well.
I’m still alive, at least, which hasn’t seemed like a realistic option in the last few days.
I open the closet and pick out plain clothes that are too big but comfortable. I try my luck with the door, surprised to find it unlocked. The hallway is long and dim, and there’s a chopping sound coming from the end of it.
“Hmm, hello?”
“Come over,” a man’s voice answers. “I can hear your stomach from here.”
I walk carefully, using the wall for support. Hector stands in the kitchen next to a hot pan. He smiles at me. “Hungry?”
I take a moment to compose myself. “Yes, please. I’m Finn.”
“And I am Hector, the governor of this fine city.”
You’re Paul, I almost say. A murderer.
“What are you making?”
“My special omelet. You’ll love it. Even Caden can’t get enough.”
I tense at how casually he brings up Caden. I’m not sure how to respond, so I sit by the dining table and reach for a glass of water. Before I drink, I ask, “Did you drug this?”
He glances over. “That cup? Don’t think so.”
I’m too thirsty to question him, so I drink.
He sings softly as he makes the food, a song that might be older than any living soul.
I use the opportunity to scan my surroundings.
The apartment is simple and well organized, with a clean and elegant style dominated by black-and-white colors.
If this was the Hive, it would have been considered huge, but people used to build more spaciously when they weren’t confined by a mountain.
“Need something for the pain?” Hector asks from the kitchen.
“I’m okay.” I’d rather keep my head clear.
“Here you go.” He places a plate in front of me. The omelet smells good.
“Thank you.”
He sits on the other side of the table but doesn’t eat himself. I’m so damn hungry after days of near-starvation that I have to remind myself to chew before I swallow. He also added fresh bread and different types of cheese.
When my stomach grows calmer, I ask, “Why did you bring me here?”
“Do you have anywhere better to be?”
“No, but you brought me here for a reason.”
“And you came into my city for a reason.”
“I’m allowed to be here.”
“Because you’re a Raider?”
I hesitate. “Yes.”
“According to your old buddy, Clint, you weren’t a fan of being a Raider, so much so that you ended up causing the death of other fine Raiders.”
Everything I ate begins to swirl in my stomach. “How do you know about Clint?”
“I checked why you were arrested. I can’t help but notice you haven’t yet denied the accusation.”
I move uneasily in my seat. “I didn’t kill them directly, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
I let my refusal float between us as a test to Hector’s polite act. He surprises me by saying, “Old wounds—we all have them. Was it through your work with the Defenders that you met Caden?”
I look at my plate, my heart beating faster.
“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. After all, you and your Semi-Human friends did announce you would be coming here for me.”
I don’t know what he means, but then I remember the iguana in the woods and River’s less-than-subtle threat. “I came here to check if Caden was okay, to try and save him.”
“Does it look like he needs saving?”
“How about we let him decide?”
“Prisoners of war rarely get to decide.”
“If you consider him a prisoner of war, then yes, he does need saving.”
Hector smiles, looking mildly impressed. His normal appearance makes it easy to forget he’s a monster, but I know firsthand that monsters come in all shapes and sizes.
“I’m beginning to understand why Caden jumped to save you. His heart almost exploded when he recognized you.”
I can imagine. “Will I be allowed to see him?”
“You just revealed to me that you have sneaked into my city to help him escape.”
I cross my arms. “If I’m your prisoner, then I’m not going to help anyone escape.”
“True, but you clearly are a sneaky little bugger, and I haven’t yet decided what to do with you.”
I see his point, so I don’t push. Only yesterday, I was coming to terms with my unavoidable death, so I should be smart about choosing my battles. “Will I be staying here?”
“Clint claims you belong to him.”
My face flushes in anger. “I’d kill him before I let him touch me again.”
“Well, you’ve proven to be more than capable of taking someone’s life, so I believe you. And yes, you will be staying here for now, as long as you don’t give me a reason to change my mind.”
I nod, finding myself grateful despite everything. “Thank you. Am I allowed to leave this apartment?”
“Alone? Of course not. Are there any others you’re supposed to meet in the city?”
“No.”
“I don’t like liars, Finn, unless it’s me doing the lying.”
I place my palms on the table and hold his gaze. “I have no one to meet in Denver. I’m alone here. Can’t you sense if I’m telling the truth?”
He narrows his eyes. “I do, but I don’t blindly count on my instincts. Tell me, was last night your first time in the arena?”
My heart skips a beat, knowing where this is going. “I’ve never fought there before.”
He smiles. “You know that isn’t what I’m asking.”
I try to keep my expression stoic. “I’ve only been there once since I got here, and I didn’t stay long.”
Hector leans forward on the table. “Interesting. You see, a few days ago, I felt a piece of my past after many, many years. It was faint enough that I dismissed it as an unexpected memory, but now… now I’m wondering if perhaps you know me a lot more than you let on. Am I right?”
“I don’t know anything.” Even in my own ears, the lie sounds feeble. Hector stands up sharply and walks around the table. He grabs my hair and pulls me up, then drags me toward the glass wall.
“Stop!”
He presses a button that slides open the glass, letting in a gush of cold wind. I try to escape his grip, but he shoves me backward until I start to fall. Faster than I can blink, he grabs my hands, leaving me to dangle from the ledge.
I scream, my body fully outside the window. The only thing stopping me from plummeting to my death is Hector’s firm grip, but he can let go at any second.
“I distinctly remember telling you I dislike liars, Finn.”
“I’m sorry! Pull me up!” Every one of my bruises pulses in agony as gravity pulls me down.
“You’ll need to give me something first, a piece of truth that will make pulling you up worth my time and energy.”
“I’m falling!”
“A piece of truth, Finn.”
Feeling my grip slipping, I shout, “Paul!”
He laughs in delight. “Oh, how I missed that name. Paul! Paul! Don’t leave us, Paul! We can protect you here! Did they tell you how much they wanted us to stay in that shithole?”
“Yes! Please, I’m slipping.”
He pulls me up into the apartment. I lie on my side, panting and shaking.
Hector slides the glass wall back into place, making the apartment quiet once more. He holds my chin. “Say it. Say my name. It’s been so long.”
I grind my teeth and hiss, “Paul.”
*
“Wake up.”
I open my eyes in the same room I woke up in earlier today.
“Take this for the pain.”
I move to sit, feeling lightheaded and nauseous. I take the small vial from Hector and drink what’s inside. I should be worried about being drugged, but it’s not like he needs to drug me to make me do what he wants.
“Wear these.”
I look at the pile of dark, elegant clothes on the bed. “Why these?”
“You can’t go to a cemetery without dressing appropriately.”
Confused, I get dressed all in black, my pain subsiding thanks to what was in that vial. I put on a pair of new shoes, then walk to the living room, where Hector is already waiting by the door.
“Do I need to put a collar around your neck to keep you close and obedient?”
“No.”
“A pity. Let’s go.”
We take an elevator down from the 40th floor. Armed guards wait for us in the wide lobby to escort us to the longest car I’ve ever seen. We enter the back seat, sitting face to face while the guards enter two other cars. When we begin to drive, I ask, “Why are we going to a cemetery?”
“Because you possess knowledge of an early part of a story, and I’m compelled to share with you the rest.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer, and I let it go. I look through the window as we drive through crowded streets on our way east. The more we drive, the smaller the houses get, reminding me of the place I lived in while looking for Caden.
After almost twenty minutes, we stop in front of an old sign for Fairmount Cemetery.
We walk through the large gate, leaving the guards behind.
The sky is more orange than blue with the sun beginning to set, and the breeze is relatively warm.
A few people stroll between the graves, but they hurry to leave at the sight of Hector.
We walk between rows and rows of old gravestones, the years going back for more than a century, sometimes more than two.
Since Hector wasn’t born in Denver, I wonder who he could know that is buried here.
“How do you bury your dead in Unity?” he asks.