Chapter 69 Kane
KANE
“No,” I grit as more blood flows from the cut.
“Continue. Take it at your own pace.” She’s encouraging me like I’m a child doing their homework. “If you fail, your life belongs to me, and no one will ever find the Leroux girl.”
My vision blurs as I lift the saw. I have to hold the pulpit to prevent falling. More bile decides to rush up my throat. I turn in time, barely missing the open box. The pain of moving my arm even an inch makes my stomach churn, like an eternal loop of fucking misery.
I don’t know how long it takes me to return to the task but wax slowly drips over the sconces as the flames thin.
Delilah.
I pick up the saw.
Delilah.
I place it in the cut I made with the sharp box cutter, my flesh burning at the intrusion, begging me to stop.
Delilah.
I roughly pull the sharp-toothed hacksaw back—
Delilah.
—then push it forward.
Delilah.
My shoulder burns along with my throat, arm, every fucking nerve in my body. But I keep sawing through the flesh and chips of shattered bone as I scream out an unintelligible sound.
Delilah.
Delilah.
Delilah.
Delilah.
It’s all for her. I’ll find her. I’ll keep her safe this time.
Delilah.
Delilah.
Delilah.
Delilah.
Score marks form in the stone as I continue sawing.
Sawing.
Delilah.
Sawing.
Delilah.
Sweat drips down my face, my nape, my back. My entire body is on fire as my labored breathing tunnels around me. The stupid fucking bitch isn’t happy when both my arm and sanity are hanging by a thread.
“Now taste the flesh you’ve forsaken,” she demands, humor lacing her voice.
I fall forward, throwing up a-fucking-gain at the thought of what she’s asking as she holds a stark white card between gloved fingers. The dwindling light catches the snake embellishment as she turns it. “The coordinates you require, as an extra.”
Helene’s island. All I have to do…
“Fuck!” I blow out a breath as my throat constricts at the thought of what I’m going to force down it.
All my nerves have been severed, yet as I change the angle of the saw to cut a piece of flesh, I scream out in pain as if I can still feel it.
It’s not as rigid as the times I’ve warmed Sasha’s food in my hands, but I battle my churning stomach as I lift the slippery sliver of flesh from my sawn forearm and bring it to my lips.
As soon as it touches my tongue, I gag, choking on my own spit—choking on my own flesh.
Tipping my head back, I ignore the strange texture, how my teeth pop through it, piercing it and echoing through my skull.
Delilah.
She’s my focus. Always Delilah.
My tears fall into my open mouth, salting my own fucking flesh.
I fucking swallow it on a sob, staring at the partial image of her face which was once inked into my skin.
Gone. It’s gone. My pain is a roar as I abruptly cut through the last inch of sinew and skin until the unbalanced weight makes me stumble.
I fall back, hitting the stone wall behind me as the candles surrounding me burn out, submerging me into darkness. The low orange flickers of the candles further away move over my dismembered arm laying on the stone as I sit feet away from it, cradling the exposed end of my forearm.
Heels click, moving closer until she reaches a gloved hand up to take my arm, leaving a card in its place. “The Leroux girl will be transported for auction in a week. I do hope you have a speedy recovery to find the information you need, Mr. Kobalt.”
“XANDROS!”
I don’t know if it’s the candles burning out or if it’s my consciousness starting to pull away as her heels click again, moving further away this time. They continue steadily clicking, no rapid movements, no running or fear. Then the heavy doors slam closed.
I use the last bit of energy I have to snatch the card from the bloody puddle. Laying back on the dusty floor with my bleeding forearm on my chest, I close my eyes.
“Get the fuck up!” Asher shouts. “Are you going to die now that you know where she is?”
The card clings to my sticky hand as I push into my pocket, looking for my phone. Sharp edges graze my knuckles and when I pull it out, the screen is fucking cracked. I don’t know Niko’s number by heart to ask him for help, so I dial #1 for Sasha.
She answers on the second ring with sleep weighing her voice down. “Where did you go? Are you getting cake again?”
“Little one,” I croak tearfully as little shards of glass cut into my cheek. “I…I fucked up. I’m…sorry. I’m so…fucking sorry.”
Her voice hardens as something slams in the background of the call. “Where are you?”
I tell her the name of the church as my senses blur with each exhale. “I…I’m sorry. Fi-find…Delilah for…me…please.”
“Stupid house of lies.”
Hissing is the first thing I hear as I’m abruptly dropped in my body with a searing heat on my arm. The overhead lights burn my eyes, and I squint to reduce the glare.
“Don’t scare me again.” Sasha nips me. “You big fat idiot.”
“Love you, too,” I weakly murmur as she heats a knife over an open flame. I watch her gently hold my elbow so the raw stub. Sasha, crazy Sasha who’s wearing a dead person’s face as a mask and eats them, winces as she brings the heated metal to my exposed flesh.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, breaking my fucking heart. “I’ll look after you now.”
“You know I love you?” I laugh weakly with tears in my eyes. “If I had a little sister, I’d want her to be you.”
Her smile shows through the sagging mouth hole as she says, “I’d like to have you as a brother too. Stay still. I gave you drugs so you shouldn’t feel anything.”
I don’t have the wherewithal to scream as she cauterizes the wound. I just breathe, looking down at the card sticking to my bloody fingers.
“Sasha?” I whisper. “I’m going to find her.”
“Then you won’t need me,” she says softly, avoiding my eyes.
“I will. Who else is going to make sure you have your snacks?”
“You’ll let me stay?”
“You’re not getting rid of me. We’re travelling the world, remember?”
“Yeah.” She smiles, pulling a clean t-shirt out of her backpack to wrap my arm up. “Me, you, and Delilah travelling the world.” She looks around before asking, “Where’s your arm? I can try to put it back.”
“I gave it away.”
The little psycho carefully folds over me and hugs me. “It’s okay, Kane. We’ll take one from the next number.”
My head is swimming with the drugs numbing the physical pain, but I sob on her shoulder like a fucking child as she hugs me.
Her knees brush my bicep, yet I can’t feel anything with the overwhelming emotions rising in me.
Not when she sits me up or cuts the tail end of the belt off.
Or when she gently pulls a hoodie over my head.
She’s even gentler with my half-arm as she leaves it out, tucking the empty cuff into the pocket.
There’s a strange look in her eyes as she pulls the hood over my head, whispering, “There. You’ll be safe now. ”
Gripping the shelving beneath the pulpit, I manage to my knees. My left arm moves like my hand is still attached to help me balance myself, but Sasha holds my ribs to help me up. Tucking herself into my right side, she wraps her arm around my waist and grabs her bag with her free hand.
I don’t even think about how she got here until we step outside into the cold air where a car sits with the engine running. We don’t have transport since The Three require we move from job to job. She’s shit at stealing them, but the keys are in the ignition when she sits me in the passenger seat.
With her hood pulled up, she doesn’t look like she’s wearing a mask as she gets in the driver’s seat. But she can barely see over the steering wheel and sits on the edge of the seat to reach the pedals. I lean over her to move the seat, forgetting I only have one fucking hand.
She doesn’t draw attention to it as she grips the steering wheel to pull herself while I push the lever down. “Oh, that’s better.”
“Yeah, you can see. Put your seat belt on,” I force out between my labored breaths.
“We kill people,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “But I have to wear a stupid seat belt.”
“There should be a button or handle at the side to push your seat up.” I get another eye roll as cranking fills the car. “Good. Now check your mirrors, crazy pants.”
“Kane,” she whines, punching the steering wheel with the side of her fist.
“Do it,” I say sternly as I relax into my seat without a belt, waiting for Sasha to adjust the mirrors so she can see clearly then guide her through how to drive without overrevving or stalling.
Once she’s got the hang of it, my laugh starts slow, breathless and full of disbelief. “I found her.” My eyes close as I grip the card tighter. “Three years and…I FUCKING FOUND HER!”
Sasha joins in, laughing with me but I keep my eyes closed to stop the tears flowing. One week. I have one week to figure out how to navigate the world with one arm.
“Do you have a mask for me?” I ask, checking the fuel gauge.
Sasha looks away from the road as she opens her bag. “Yeah, it’s in here.”
“Look at the road.” I try to grab the wheel but there’s only my limp sleeve brushing the leather as the residual ache the drugs can’t numb throbs through my entire arm.
“Okay, you don’t have to shout.”
“We have to go somewhere. Ready to say goodbye to The Three?” I ask, smiling for the first time with genuine fucking lightness.
The blood loss and adrenaline are making it all hazy, but I can’t stop the thought of seeing Delilah again.
Holding her, seeing her face, just fucking being near her without anyone else’s influence.
The captives are at home like they always are when we pull up in front of the dense woodland opposite their gated house with Sasha slurping her drink.
The carton is nearly bigger than her, but she was too excited when she saw a fast-food place.
She deserves a treat for helping me. She’s done everything for me on the drive, from feeding me, making sure I didn’t die when I passed out, administering the drugs to prevent me feeling any pain, and now as she pulls my mask on for me.
Taking my phone, she asks, “What do you want me to say?”
“Tell him it’s not over.” I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth to get through the pain attempting to drag my consciousness away.
She taps away, hyper-focused on the keys as she types the three words.
I watch the external lights turn on one by one then take my phone from Sasha since she types slowly unless she’s communicating the status of her stomach.
The screen is blurry, but I manage to type them out as blood smears across the glass.
Me:
I won’t harm you.
Decker:
What do you want?
Me:
Come outside
“Drive down the block,” I say, strained as I grip the trim of the car to climb out. “Remember, if you get hungry, there are burgers on the backseat. Do not kill anyone.”
She hesitates as she lets go of her straw. “Will you be okay?”
“Yeah, crazy pants. Wait for me, okay? Keep your head down so no one sees your mask.”
She nods as I close the door then watch her slowly pull away.
The drive to Mr. Mannix has allowed her to learn how to be careful instead of the recklessness she’s used to within Rowan’s world.
The real one isn’t forgiving and she’s not going to be put in a cell for people to abuse her if anyone sees her.
The large gates in front of the house groan as they roll on the electronic track. I turn, watching the man who owes me his freedom walk towards me with his hand tucked into the pocket of his sweats.
“Mr. Mannix,” I smile, the ketamine still numbing the pain. “Are you that happy to see me?”
It’s definitely a gun but I’m too giddy at being close the finish line where my real life will start so I don’t give a fuck.
My empty sleeve is still tucked into my pocket, and the drugs dull me as he snatches my throat, pushing me through the wrought iron gate enclosing the park he probably walks his dogs through.
“Do you have a dog?” I ask.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“I think you have a dog,” I slur.
Taking the gun from his pocket, he presses it to my temple, unclicks the safety, then repeats, “What the fuck do you want?”
“Help,” I answer honestly. “I set you free. So repay the debt. Help me get my wife back.” I wince as I move my arm. “I need a doctor, one who isn’t connected to Rowan and won’t report what they treat.”
“Who’s your wife?” he asks without lessening the pressure against my temple.
“Delilah.” I smile at her name like a pathetic fuck. “I helped you, you know? When we collected you, the guards tried to remove your pants. I stopped them. I put her in your arms too. I made sure they couldn’t touch you.”
“Helped?” he spits as the birds begin chirping with the pre-dawn sky lightening. “You didn’t fucking help me by taking me to that fucking hell. Do you know what it’s like to burn?”
“My twin died in a fire, so in a way, yeah, I do.”
His finger trembles on the trigger, debating whether to kill me or help me.
“I’ll give you Rowan,” I concede. “I just want my wife.”
He pushes the gun harder against my skull, so hard there’ll be an imprint left in the fragile bone. Then the old fuck pistol whips me.