20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Hector
Misery clings to the air, choking my lungs as I move past the cells on the highest level. Getting up all those stairs took most of my strength, but there are fewer soldiers up here to witness what I'm doing.
The enclosures are cramped, maybe five feet wide, and sealed by reinforced doors with portholes barely the size of a dinner plate. Some are dark, others aren’t. I force myself to look inside each one.
“Lena?” I call quietly, dragging my palm along the rusted metal while I limp my way around. “Lena, it’s me. It’s Hector.”
Most of the people inside don’t answer. A few do, begging for mercy.
Blank stares greet me, faces so hollow I don’t even recognize them as human at first. One woman reaches for me, fingertips raw and bloody, but she’s too far gone to speak.
Another hisses and recoils, curling in on herself.
These aren't just prisoners…they’re ghosts. Shells of who they used to be.
“We put the rotters up here,” Jonas says quietly, swirling his finger lazily around a lock. “Keeping them behind steel doors in case they turn. Also makes it convenient if you want some privacy.”
I tear my gaze away from a wraith-like form on the floor. “Lena isn't a rotter. She came here to be a soldier.”
“Hmm.” He examines his nails with a bored shrug. “Guess we could check the list for her name.”
My gaze flies to his face, heart skipping a beat. “There's a list?”
“Everyone gets cataloged, sweetheart. Blood types, infection markers. Useful skills. It’s all very organized.”
“Why the fuck didn't you tell me?!” I snarl, slamming him against the wall before shoving the handgun under his chin. “Why would you bring me all the way up here?”
“Watching you squirm is so much fun,” Jonas laughs, unfazed by the metal digging into his jaw.
Rage tunnels my vision, finger tightening on the trigger. “Tell me where it is before I paint the walls with what's left of your face.”
He bites his bottom lip as if holding back a grin. “Judge’s office. Feel free to check it without me. You’ve got about five minutes before the next rotation, though, so I’d hustle.”
I shove away with a growl, knocking him sideways before bolting for the stairwell. My heart pounds at my ribs, but just as I reach the railing, movement across the pit catches my eye. Two soldiers drag someone to a lower level—a large man .
They haul him like dead weight, one of them unlocking a cell while the other slams the man against the bars hard enough to make me flinch. My knees nearly give out when I recognize the broad chest, blood-smeared skin, and dark hair matted to his forehead.
Charon.
They throw him into the cell like trash, slamming the bars shut tight. My stomach drops at the sight of him slumped on the floor.
Why is he here? Where's Nyx?
Jonas steps up beside me, nursing his jaw with a smirk. “Well, this is perfect.” His eye swings to me, glittering darkly. “Think he'll like watching me fuck all of your holes in the pit before we let the biters take you apart?”
I don't even look at him. My gaze stays on Charon, on the way his arms sprawl out unnaturally like they couldn’t even bother being gentle with the giant who showed so much kindness to me. My nails dig into my palms hard enough to cut skin as I blink rapidly.
“You gonna cry, rotter? Beg me to set your boyfriend free?”
“I’m not begging,” I whisper, jabbing my gun once more into his ribs. “Now take me to the list.”
First Lena. Then Charon. I can do this.
Jonas leans in, lips brushing my ear, making me gag. “You’re not begging yet .” He passes me on the stairs, whistling a tune like this is just another day for him. “But you will be. Very soon.”
The halls grow quieter the further we get from the pit, lights humming faintly above. Jonas walks a few steps ahead, casually swinging his arms back and forth. It seems…cleaner here, somehow. Less grime and decay on the walls. I don’t like it one bit.
“The Judge’s office is just ahead,” he says flatly. “Real charming place. Great view of the shit-filled swamp surrounding us.”
“Walk faster.”
He snorts but complies, swaggering up to another door with a keypad. “If I weren't so excited to have you in the pit, I'd almost regret that our fun is about to end. As it were…”
The door unlocks with a sharp hiss before swinging open quietly, no hinges groaning or rusted metal flaking.
Inside, the room looks immaculate. Metal walls, a bolted desk, and odd blinking rectangles lining the far wall that resemble moving pictures.
Filing cabinets sit behind the desk, intact and free of dirt, unlike the ones I've seen back in Aster’s Hollow.
Jonas throws himself into a chair, leg slung over the arm. “Catalog’s somewhere around here. Good luck.”
Without hesitating, I immediately pull open the closest drawer to rifle through, hoping something will pop out at me.
But all I see are words and symbols that I never learned to read.
The labels are faded, crumbling papers crammed into folders and loose sheets layering the bottom.
My fingers tremble as I flip through them, heart pounding louder with every useless page I toss aside.
Compared to how neat the rest of the office is, something about this mess bothers me. It doesn’t make sense.
“Where is she?” Scanning a list of numbers that mean nothing to me, I move to the next cabinet, and the next, but there’s nothing I can understand. Panic rises in my throat at the thought of Charon still in that cell.
Jonas clicks his tongue, breath suddenly hot on my neck. “Having trouble?”
Spinning around, I jam the gun into his throat, forcing him back. “Tell me where the fuck to find the list!”
“Maybe there isn’t one,” he sneers, empty eye socket oozing and swollen. “Maybe I lied. Maybe your sister never made it off the freak's boat. You ever think of that?”
“Shut up.”
“Touched a nerve, hm?”
I plant my hand on his chest and shove him so hard that he falls onto the desk, a maniacal laugh leaving his lips. “This doesn’t make any sense!”
She enlisted . I watched her leave with my own eyes. She promised she’d come back for me. If she's not here, then…where else could she be?
“Why don’t you just ask the Judge yourself?” Jonas chuckles, leaning on his elbows.
My gaze snaps to him, blood roaring in my ears. “What did you say?”
“You wanna know what happened to your sister?” He lifts a hand, gesturing toward the door with a crooked finger. “Then ask her yourself.”
The lock clicks behind me.
Turning slowly, my heart pounds so loud I almost don’t hear the footsteps approach. But when the door swings open, I swear all the air leaves the room .
She stands there, backlit by harsh light, every inch of her now a stranger—worn boots, regulation jacket, her blonde curls cut short. No trace of softness remains in the curve of her silver-scarred mouth.
But I know that face. I know her . I could never forget.
A cruel smile spreads on Lena's lips, eyes that used to shine with fondness now colder than the harshest winter as she points a gun straight at my heart.
“Hello, little brother.”