Chapter 61
SIXTY-ONE
CADEN
I woke up, my arms screaming in pain.
Fire licked through my muscles, burning from my shoulders down to my hands. My entire body throbbed in protest as I tried to shift, only to feel the harsh bite of metal cutting into my skin.
In line with my last memory, I was still hanging from the ceiling, unbreakable chains digging into my wrists and keeping me in place.
I forced my eyes downward, blinking hard through the fog clouding my vision. Blood stained my body, dark and sticky, but the bleeding had stopped. And the wounds seemed…healed.
Small victories.
My eyes flitted across the room, searching the shadows until they landed on Walker. He was slumped in the same position, still suspended like me. His head hung forward, the short strands of his military cut doing nothing to hide his closed eyes.
“Walker?”
No response.
I scanned his body, cataloging the bruises, the torn shirt sticking to his chest. He looked pale. Too pale.
“Come on, Walker. Wake up.”
Finally, a groan.
James’s head shifted slightly. His eyes opened, green and glassy at first, then sharpening fast as he took in the room. His attention flicked to the chains, the rig, and then to me.
“Where the hell are we?” he rasped, his voice rough.
“No idea. Do you recognize anything?”
His focus swept across the jagged stone walls, the faint, acrid scent of blood lingering in the air. Then his gaze landed on the heavy steel door.
“We’re at the Bastille, hidden below the surface.”
A cold spike of adrenaline shot through me. “One of its famous torture caves?”
The tendons in James’s neck tensed. “Yeah.”
Great.
I forced myself to steady, ignoring the burn in my arms as my pulse pounded harder than was remotely helpful.
“We need to get out of here, but without translation,” I said. “We’re still beneath the bubble.”
James sighed. “Awesome.”
I forced my upper arms to relax even though every fiber protested the strain. My fingers twitched uselessly against the chains.
“Any idea who took us?”
James’s brow furrowed as he considered it. “My money’s either on the United Chiefs,” he said slowly, “or the person behind the bubble.”
“Or both,” I suggested. “Working together.”
His frown hadn’t moved. “If that’s true, then why the hell are we still breathing?”
My pulse spiked, thoughts beginning to spiral before I could rein them in. My gaze cut toward him, dark and cold. “To lure her here?”
A sick, twisting feeling coiled in my chest. The idea of Emma—chained and bleeding out somewhere here as well—turned me downright feral.
“We need to get out of here. Now.” My wrists strained hard against the cuffs, the bite of it tearing into already raw skin. Blood slicked my arms as I pulled harder, the pain slicing through me, but I didn’t stop.
“Emma would’ve portaled into Cyclos already,” James muttered, mostly to himself. “Whoever put us here clearly wanted us separated from her, which means it’s not unlikely.”
Hearing him confirm my fear sent a savage rush of adrenaline through my veins. My muscles screamed even more as I yanked harder against the bindings, the loud snap of bone grinding beneath the pressure. My vision blurred at the edges, but I didn’t care. I had to get to my girl.
James’s eyes flicked to the restraints pinning us in place, something dangerous flashing there. “We need to figure out how to break out of these.”
“Already on it,” I said mildly. “Give me a few minutes.”
He glanced at me, unimpressed. “Bold claim from someone currently hanging from the ceiling like a cow waiting to be sold off to the next butcher.”
I snorted despite throbbing of my limbs. “Please. No one could afford me.”
He huffed a quiet laugh before the silence crept back in, both of us mentally running through bad options.
I exhaled through my nose. “If translating’s off the table, we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”
James narrowed his eyes into slits. “Define hard.”
“Dislocate your thumb.”
He blinked. “Come again?”
“If you can slip your thumb out of the cuff,” I said evenly, “the rest of your hand will follow.”
“That’s psychotic.”
“So is hanging here until someone carves us open. Or worse, while they’re getting their hands on Emma.”
James cursed under his breath. He flexed his wrist, testing the width of the cuff. “You first.”
“Gladly.” I inhaled through my teeth and tried to ignore the burn. My jaw clenched as I twisted my hand at an unnatural angle, trying to work my thumb beneath the steel.
Pain exploded through my hand. My thumb wrenched sideways with a sickening pop.
“Fuck!”
Black spots started dancing at the edge of my vision. I gritted my teeth and pressed into the ache, forcing my hand to slide through the narrow gap of the cuff. Skin tore. Blood seeped through the inside of the alloy as I shoved harder…and then my hand slid free.
My freed arm dropped, dragging my weight sideways and wrenching hard at my other shoulder. I choked back a curse and forced myself to focus. My thumb was bent unnaturally to the side.
James winced. “That was disturbing.”
I breathed through the pain. “You’re up.”
James’s mouth flattened. He twisted his wrist, working his thumb beneath the steel. He groaned when it caught at the bone.
Pop.
A low hiss slipped through his teeth as his thumb dislocated. He forced his fingers through the gap. His face paled slightly, but his hand slid free with a violent jerk.
James blinked hard, shaking out his hand. “Well, that sucked.”
“Quit whining.” I flexed my arm, trying to work feeling back into it.
He scowled. “What now?”
“Now,” I said, as I curled my fingers around the chain above my other wrist, my thumb useless at my side. “I do this.” Pain tore through my upper arm as I jerked upward. It burned so intensely I thought it might rip free from the socket. Metal groaned beneath the pressure.
“You’re not seriously trying to—”
Snap.
The bolt at the top of the chain cracked loose from the ceiling. The sudden drop yanked my body down, and I hit the ground hard, rolling through the impact. My palm slapped against cold stone as I pushed to my feet, all my limbs throbbing from the fall.
I grabbed my broken thumb with my good hand and wrenched it back into place. The crack was painful enough to white out my vision. Then, I shook out my arm, rolling my shoulder back into place with a dry crack, as my attention slid toward James.
“Your turn.”
James’s eyes darkened for a second, before he flexed his arm, tested the give in the chain, and bared his teeth. Tension rippled through his upper body as he strained against it.
Snap.
The bolt ripped from the ceiling. James dropped fast, twisting mid-air before landing in a controlled crouch. He pushed to his feet, straightening faster than I’d anticipated.
I jumped to my own, flexing my hands to shake out the burning in my muscles, and strode toward the heavy steel door at the edge of the room.
James was right behind me, before he ran his hand along the frame, his eyes narrowing at the reinforced material. No handle. No visible lock.
“Looks like they weren’t planning on letting us out.” I slammed my palm against the barrier. It didn’t so much as tremble beneath the force.
“Fantastic.” James crouched down, pressing his ear to the surface. His fingertips traced the thin ridge where the door met the wall.
I watched, arms crossed. “You have a plan, or are you just cuddling the door for emotional support?”
James didn’t answer. His expression turned to pure focus as he followed the seam to the edge. His hand flattened against the surface, lingering near the base of it.
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
He stepped back, studying the door like it was some kind of puzzle. “It’s not locked from the outside. It’s locked from within the paneling.”
My eyebrows shot up. “And how the hell do you know that?”
James cocked his head before he spoke. “I just do.”
He crouched again, then pulled a thin sliver of steel from his boot, and slid it into the narrow gap. A faint click followed as he worked the tool through the mechanism.
My jaw dropped in shock. “You learned this…how exactly?”
“Locks are all about design,” he replied with a small shrug. “Pressure points. Load balance.”
“And how many of these pressure points have you ‘balanced’ before?”
“Enough.” He twisted the metal, his brow furrowing. A loud snap echoed through the room, and the door creaked open a fraction of an inch.
I blinked, more than a bit stunned at this turn of events.
James stood and pushed the door wide open.
“Okay, how the hell did you know how to do that?”
He turned toward me with a shrug. “I like architecture.”
My mouth curled into one hell of a weird smile. “Of course you do.”
James stepped past me into the dark corridor, his shoulders brushing the frame as he moved. The chill hit instantly, a cutting cold that coiled under my skin and tightened the air in my chest.
I followed close behind, my focus sweeping the length of the hall. Dim lights flickered along the walls, casting creepy shadows across the cracked stone floor.
James’s head tilted slightly as he scanned the corridor. His muscles were taut under his shirt, his movements precise and controlled.
“Left or right?” I murmured.
James didn’t bother to answer. He just kept walking, his hand brushing along the wall, tracing the uneven surface like it would tell him something.
The only light came from the faintest glow of moss along the rock walls, enough to make out the jagged turns before we slammed into them. Our feet pounded against the uneven ground, every step echoing through the narrow cave like a warning bell.
James was ahead of me, moving fast even though we’d been chained to a ceiling less than ten minutes ago.
I caught up to him right as we hit a fork in the tunnel.
He hesitated so abruptly, I nearly ran into him.
“Are you lost?” I hissed. “In your own torture cave?!”
“No,” he bit back. “I’m…orienting.”
“Oh good,” I snapped. “Glad you’re taking your time to find the scenic route while we’re being hunted.”
Behind us, the sound of distant footsteps echoed: low, fast, and closing in.
“Left,” he said suddenly, veering hard.
I followed without thinking, ducking under a hanging rock that nearly took off the top of my head.
“I swear to the fucking Gods,” I muttered, panting, “if this leads to another locked cell, I’m going to rip off your head and roll it North.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he said, grinning through his teeth. “You don’t even know which way is up right now.”
“I know which way danger is,” I growled. “It’s behind us. With very loud feet.”
Another turn. Another staircase. I didn’t know how far we’d come, only that the air was warmer now, like we were getting closer to something that wasn’t meant to be found.
We slowed near a bend, listening.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No voices. Just the sound of our breathing and the dripping of water somewhere ahead.
“Okay,” I whispered, the word barely disturbing the air. “Now would be a great time to say you know where we’re going.”
James glanced over his shoulder, eyes catching what little light there was, glinting faintly in the dark. “I have a vague idea.”
“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Exactly the level of confidence I look for in a travel guide.”
He slowed abruptly. Went still.
“There’s movement ahead.”
Every muscle in my body locked. My hand drifted instinctively to my side—toward where my Chela should have been—only to hit empty air. If only I could translate it into existence.
James’s posture shifted. “Be ready.”
I bared my teeth in the darkness and drew the ridiculously small knife hidden in my shoe, hardly impressive, but deadly enough. “Always.”
We moved fast after that, boots whispering over the floor as the passage sloped upward. The walls were closing in, and the darkness was thick and crawling.
We rounded the corner and almost collided with a man dressed head to toe in black.
He froze for half a second. Long enough for his eyes to widen. Long enough for his hand to dart toward the human phone at his belt.
James didn’t give him the chance.
He slammed the man into the wall before a sound could tear loose from his throat. I was already moving, yanking his hand away from the device, twisting hard. Something gave with a wet, unmistakable snap.
The alarm stayed silent.
The man didn’t.
James drove him down fast and brutal, all force and precision. A crack echoed through the corridor—bone against rock—and then there was nothing.
The body went slack.
I exhaled steadily, though my pulse hammered so hard it hurt. “That was close.”
James didn’t answer.
He just stood there, staring down at the man sprawled at his feet, blood blooming dark against the stone floor.
“You okay there, Walker?”
“Does he seem…” James frowned slightly, eyes still on the body. “Familiar to you?”
I cocked my head, then turned the man’s face toward what little light reached us with my foot.
“He does,” I said slowly. “Where the hell do we know him from?”
James shook his head. “No idea. He’s definitely not a Chief.”
I straightened, unease crawling up my spine, cold and insistent.
Then I heard it: voices. Muffled. Two, maybe three. Somewhere above us.
James tilted his head, listening.
We stared at each other for a single second. Without another word, we broke into a sprint. The tunnel blurred beneath our feet as we hit a narrow staircase carved straight into the rock, spiraling up into black.
“Up?” I muttered, already knowing the answer.
James nodded once and took the stairs two at a time.
The voices grew louder. Clearer.
At the top, a heavy iron door blocked our path, thick, rusted, sealed like it hadn’t been opened in years.
James didn’t hesitate. “Together,” he said, bracing himself.
I nodded, pressed my shoulder to the cold metal beside his.
“One,” he counted.
We slammed into it.
The door shuddered.
“Two.”
The hinges groaned, the lock screaming in protest.
“Three—”