Chapter 8 #2
When they brought out the fae prisoners for us to gun down like rats in a cage, Istvan had chosen that day to come watch me.
His gaze drilled into me, the weight of his pride or disappointment riding on my shoulders.
I pulled the trigger, shooting the fae in the back of the head with a fae bullet, watching his head explode like a watermelon. I almost vomited.
But I couldn’t deny a strange buzz I got—the energy in that moment between life and death. A morbid fascination. I thought a lot about that moment since.
Sergeant Bakos kept reminding us the fae wouldn’t falter, would slaughter us without pause as they had done to my father and so many others.
My fingers wrapped around the handle of the weapon, the power of it bringing me back to the present, the gun heavy in my hand, my finger pulling the trigger on the blond guard.
Kill or be killed.
A figure slammed into mine, bones crunching.
The main guard, Sloane, hurtled us over the bed, flipping it with a piercing crash.
The metal scraped and skidded on the floor, sounding like an explosion.
Sloane’s bulk slammed down on me, yanking my body and arm in opposite directions.
My wrist twisted, the cuff pulling my arm back up in the air from the rail of the bed.
A cry whimpered in my throat as I tried to wiggle away from him.
“Don’t. Move,” the massive guard barked down at me, his eyes glowing with anger. He climbed off me, his head shaking. “Did you really think you could escape? You foolish idiot.”
Roughly, he yanked me to my feet, his eyes moving over me. He took in my exposed figure, his nose flaring, his body reacting to mine. Aroused. Rumor was sex and being naked were natural to fae, as natural as breathing. Seemed the gossip was true.
“You’re bleeding,” he grumbled, his eyes still hot on me, while his brow furrowed.
I felt the warm liquid trickle down my abdomen, where my wound had torn open in the fight.
Noticing my lack of movement, he twisted my gown around, covering me and pressing the fabric into the pooling blood.
“Clean her up. Some will smell the fresh human blood and go crazy.” Sloane rolled his shoulders back, nodding to the healer to come over, moving away from me.
She hadn’t liked me before; now I knew she really wished she let me die.
“Vale.” Sloane nodded at the blond fae, his lavender gaze sliding back to me sternly. “Keep tight. She is more skilled than they led us to believe.”
“Yes, she is.” Vale chuckled, stepping up to me. “Most grown men, fae or human, pee their pants when we show up.” He pressed the gun I’d briefly held into my temple while the healer dressed my wounds. “You are a spirited one. Gave me a little rush, human.”
I didn’t respond. My torso was on fire as the healer crudely patched my injury again.
It took my entire focus to keep conscious and standing.
I clenched my teeth to wall off the vomit threatening to come up my throat.
The shot she gave me made me feel the pain like a train tunneling through my veins.
Don’t pass out. Don’t throw up.
“Connor, let them know we’re coming.” Sloane nodded to the dark-haired soldier.
He nodded and muttered into a handheld device, a cross between a walkie-talkie and mobile phone.
Very high-tech, especially in these parts.
Our soldiers only got them when they were out in the field, and ours were antiques and cheap compared to what these guys had.
The moment the healer was done, Sloane unlatched me from the bed and cuffed both my wrists behind my back, shoving me forward. My heart thumped, and my legs wobbled. Anger at myself bristled at the back of my neck. I had been so close. I had a chance, and I failed.
Hesitated.
I had no more energy left to fight, having burned it up in those few seconds. My chance to escape was gone. Burying the sob building in my throat, I let the three guards move me to the door.
“Human,” the healer called out to me, my head twisting to her. A cruel grin curled up her face. “You aren’t going to last a week, but every second you are going to wish I took pity on you and let you die.”
A blur of exquisite details, carvings, and paintings covered every inch of the large space they moved me through, suggesting it had once been used as a church.
All the symbols of the old human religion were gone.
The fae believed in honoring all the gods and goddesses, which was a value quickly spreading to the human youth.
Those who were older still held on to their beliefs of one god.
I didn’t buy into either. I believed in myself, my family, and my friends.
The men rushed me through the large wooden doors, the sun dipping behind the breathtaking courtyard we crossed.
The air was warmer, the evening sun painting the clouds pink.
Summer had decided to finally peek through the chilly spring.
On a night like this, all the cadets would group together out on the patio at the HDF bar after training, getting tipsy, absorbing the balmy twilight, giggling, flirting, and having fun.
Were they there now? Was I already a fading memory to them?
A warning tale to tell the new recruits.
“Move it.” Sloane yanked my arm through the koztér, the plaza, where shops, hotels, business, dwellings, and cafes lined the meticulous square as if life here never changed twenty years ago.
It was still thriving in freedom and pleasures.
Nicely dressed figures milled around, chatting and laughing, enjoying the beautiful evening, but going quiet when they caught sight of the four of us.
This area didn’t strike me as a place that saw a lot of bleeding, barely dressed humans escorted by an elite squad.
It was far nicer than Leopold, everywhere there were buildings maintained with new paint, pristine roads, and fresh flowers. Our side crumbled behind the patchwork facade we put up.
The fae guards directed me across the square.
I knew exactly where I was, recognizing the buildings from so many years of staring at them from the other side of the river or from old books Istvan had me study.
There was no mistaking the taste of my city; Budapest curled on my tongue like comfort food.
Cool wind rolled over the ornate buildings, smelling like the Danube, like home.
Tense and alert, they hustled me around the corner. I gasped at the view, struck by the beauty of the whitewashed mini castles and walkways overlooking the river, seeing the true beauty this close.
I’d looked out at this view many times from my high perch on HDF. But I had stared at the fairy-tale-looking buildings across the water, the white dreamlike spires and turrets, romantic and beautiful, reminiscent of fables humans used to think of as fairy tales.
“Fairy” had a different connotation now, and it was nothing I wanted to be part of.
What used to be called Fishermen’s Bastion was now coined Killian’s Bastion, after the arrogant fae leader.
The neo-Gothic-Romanesque terrace was situated high on the Buda bank, Killian’s Castle a little distance away.
Through the ornate towers, the lights of HDF glowed in its majestic beauty.
I had never seen it from this side, the glorious building causing a sob to hitch my throat.
As the men shoved me forward, I kept my eyes on it. My home. My sanctuary. My heart.
Caden.
My soul screamed for him. For him to feel me.
Somehow see me. Was he sitting up at our spot now?
Thinking about me? Staring over, not even realizing I was right here?
Did he know I was alive? Were they trying to get me back?
Was Istvan trying to make a deal for me?
Istvan was cold and tough, but I knew he cared about me.
Caden certainly wouldn’t let me go; he’d make Istvan fight for me. Maybe Rebeka would also.
A bit of hope buzzed inside me as the guards walked toward a black SUV. For a moment, I believed Istvan would be sitting inside, motioning for me to get in. My heart sank when they shoved me past it, keeping me close as we marched down the street.
“Where are we going?” Fear choked me. What was ahead of me? Maybe they were going to kill me after all.
“Your new home.” Vale smirked, pressing his gun harder into my back.
About to turn down an alley, I yanked my head around, getting my last glimpse of the HDF’s dome, my heart breaking into pieces. The historic building twinkled in the darkening sky, so familiar and lovely—my old friend.
This was the last time I would see my home, smell the musty scent of the Danube, feel the wind roll over my skin.
I understood where I was going.
The place feared by HDF soldiers more than death.
Halalház.
The fae prison was dubbed the House of Death for a reason.
Captives went in . . . and never came out.