Chapter 16 #2
I push toward him. His fingers are knotted into the short hair of a kid with a face so pretty, even when twisted into a mask of pain, that I can’t tell if they’re a boy or girl.
The kid is trying to tear free, but Julian’s fingers are clenched tight, anchoring their head to his grip.
Though the kid is definitely not Eternity, they’re about her age, and that sends a wave of rage crashing through me.
I release a howl of fury and dive in that direction, only for the lights to cut suddenly, plunging us back into darkness.
Frantic, I dive in their direction, only to be cut off by two girls running full tilt through the crowd.
Two men in guard uniforms bellow instructions at the end of the hall, but the residents pay them no mind—until the bounding blond resident reaches them.
He crashes into them, and suddenly, fists are flying, and they go down in a heap.
A roar goes up around them, but I can’t tell if it’s a cheer or an angry outcry.
I throw open another door, then close it when I find the room empty. While I’m scanning the crowd for any sign of Eternity, I catch sight of an older guy fumbling to lock a door on the other side of the hall with a physical key while the crowd jostles around him.
What is he trying to hide?
I push through the crowd toward him. I’ve almost reached him when he pulls open the door and slips inside, closing the door behind him.
Damn.
He wasn’t locking the door. He was unlocking it.
The building is old, and though they’ve made updates to modernize parts of it, I have to remember that it’s been here a long, long time.
Walker told us the building used to be an orphanage before they converted it into a mental asylum.
They don’t have all the rooms on automatic locks, at least not on this floor.
I rattle the handle, then fend off a snarling guy before wasting another bullet.
It’s a risk in such a crowded space, but I aim at the floor before I fire.
I spend a minute disengaging the locking mechanism from the twisted, hot metal of the handle.
At last, I kick in the door. It bounces off the wall, and the first thing I see is the open window on the far side of a small office.
A rush of salty sea air rolls through the room, sucking the door shut on my heel.
I look around, disappointed. Not that I thought I’d find my sister, but also, that’s exactly why I’m here, so I expect her in every room, see her in every face.
I’m just turning when the door opens again, and Saint ducks in.
“What the fuck are you doing, charging off down the hall like that?” he thunders. “You could have been fucking killed!”
“I was just—”
Before I can finish, he takes two strides across the room, grabs my head in both hands, and smashes his lips to mine.
I feel my piercing tearing the skin with the force, taste blood, and I’m instantly hard.
His tongue crashes into my mouth, sweeping over mine with a demanding, dominant stroke.
An involuntary growl rises to my throat, and I hook my hand into his belt, jerking him closer.
He must take it as an invitation, because the next second, he’s unbuckling.
I jerk open his zipper, my fist wrapping around his hot, hard length.
A shiver of erotic heat rolls down my spine and straight up my hard dick.
My eyes roll back, and I moan into his mouth, yanking his cock in quick, urgent tugs.
Precum dribbles from his slit, coating his tip when I reach it before roughly dragging my hand all the way back to the base of his cock. I cup his balls, giving them a tug too.
His teeth scrape over my bleeding lip, and his fingers tear open my button while the other hand grips my throat.
“Fuck me,” I snap, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him even closer.
He spins me around, slams me against a stack of filing cabinets, and drives up into me.
I choke out a strangled cry, and then there’s only the sound of our grunting, panting breaths as he ruins our friendship one brutal thrust at a time.
It’s quick and dirty and rough, and after only a minute, his motions become erratic.
I grip the edge of the filing cabinet as his hips jerk forward, hot and bare against mine.
Reaching around me, he grips my cock, jerking me while he pulls out halfway, rocking the head of his cock against my prostate.
I fucking whimper with pleasure, my knees buckling.
Blackness dots my vision, and I hold on for dear life as my cum spurts all over the front of the filing cabinets.
Saint gives a final thrust before emptying inside me with a tortured, helpless moan.
The room is filled with our ragged breathing, and then a long, low rumble of thunder invades from outside the open window. Saint’s body is trembling as he drops his forehead onto the crown of my head. “Heath,” he whispers, his voice barely a breath.
“I know,” I say, reaching back to run a palm over the back of his neck, securing him to me for a moment that can’t last. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the cool metal of the cabinet. “Me too.”
We stay like that for a long moment, neither of us moving, our breathing returning to normal. Then he gives my hip a squeeze and pulls out. He carefully tucks me in, then zips me up before getting himself situated.
When I turn back, he avoids my eyes, looking around the room instead. “What is this?”
“An office,” I say. “Maybe the one we’re looking for.”
Saint breaks the lock on the cabinet, and I pull out a drawer. It’s filled with files, each alphabetized. It’s almost too easy… Until we don’t find my sister’s name in the “S” section. I check the “E” section just in case, but she’s not there either.
“Maybe she gave them a fake name,” he says.
“Just like my sister,” I say. “Always making more work for us.”
Saint’s phone chimes, and he texts the others, who soon join us.
“We didn’t see her coming out of any of the rooms,” Mercy says, sounding dejected. “But it’s so wild out there it’s impossible to know if she’s here.”
I hand her a stack of files. “Dig in.”
What started out seeming too easy now looks like a herculean task.
The sky outside has darkened further, making it nearly impossible to see the photo on the first page of each folder.
Still, I’m beyond thankful they’re included.
Otherwise we’d have to read through every single one, trying to guess by description and date which was Eternity.
As it is, we still have to flip through every single file looking for her picture.
We pull stacks of files from the drawers, rifling through and leaving them strewn across the floor.
Saint takes a pile to the window, closing it against the first fat raindrops pelting down.
Dante takes a stack to the huge wooden desk, finds an old-fashioned candelabra with half-burned candles, and lights each one.
We work by whatever light we can, ignored by the residents still rioting outside, stampeding back and forth, fighting the guards who try to subdue them.
We’re on borrowed time, though, and we become increasingly desperate as we fail to find her.
I pull open the last cabinet, which has W-Z tabs. I’m about to pull out the first folder when the sections behind the Z catch my eye. They’re packed with folders with blank tabs. I pull out a handful and open one. The photo on the first page is stamped with one word in red ink.
My heart starts pounding, erratic and wild, as I frantically flip through one after another, each stamped with that same word.
And then, at last, it stops beating altogether, unable to do anything but crumble.
Because for the first time in four years, I’m staring at a new picture of my sister.
And there, across her face in ink as red as the blood on their hands, is the same word stamped on the others: DISCARD.