Chapter 16 Dante
Dante
The drugs in my system seem to be losing their hold.
As I regain consciousness—again—I find that I'm no longer chained to a gurney.
They moved me, but not before I heard Melody scream like a holy terror and fight Hannah.
I don't know if my wife could hear me shouting encouragement.
I don't know if my shouts even came out.
I know I heard their scuffle as I was struggling to stay awake. Dire as our situation may be, I'm proud of her for fighting like hell. She's done more than I have.
Rolling my head to the side, I take stock of my surroundings.
They've given me a prison-style cot as a bed.
The thin mattress resembles compressed cardboard rather than anything fit for humans to sleep on.
The only fixture is a small metal shelf attached to the cinderblock walls and holds a small cup of water.
A bucket sits ominously in the corner. There is no plumbing nor any windows.
The only light comes from a single, weak lightbulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling.
It's not the same room. I'm no longer restrained, but the thick metal bars of the cell door look newer. Much newer. They aren't rusted or stained with neglect. They practically shine.
Eerily, there is no sound whatsoever. The constant dripping is gone. There is no sign of human activity. I can't even hear the sound of anyone sleeping. No snores, no deep breaths. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Fuck. They've sequestered me away from my wife and allies.
I'm entirely alone. All the money and connections in the world, but what good is that now?
No one knows we're here. The Eligos may have concerns that we never checked in, but the rendezvous point was so remote—there definitely weren't any cameras she could track us with.
Hell, I don't even know how we got here.
I don't know where here is. Helena said something about Mexico, but who knows if that's true? I wouldn't be surprised, based on the sticky humid heat. But that could be a lot of places. With how widespread the Seraph are, similar to GoCon, we could be absolutely anywhere in the world.
However, since Ella is the Beacon of North America, I can't imagine she'd allow us outside her grasp. I huff out a sigh and rake my hands through my greasy hair.
God dammit. I failed Melody again. I walked into a trap with a smile on my face, and I failed her. And now we're stuck in this shithole in god knows where, separated—she's probably terrified, if they haven't drugged her to sleep again—and I can't do a goddamn thing about it.
Furious tension courses through my veins as I stomp over to the little shelf and gulp down all the water from that stupid, tiny cup.
My muscles contract, and I throw the fucking cup as hard as I can.
It clangs against the wall and tumbles to the floor, spinning in a lazy circle.
The effort comes with a grunt, but it doesn't feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough.
I pace around this goddamn cell, fuming and grinding my teeth.
I have to get out. I have to get us out.
I have to save my wife, and I will do everything in my power to rip and tear and shred our way out.
I'll rip Ella's throat out myself—assuming Melody doesn't get to her first. I'll strangle Hannah like I did her brother.
I'll bury the Beacon and piss on her grave.
A primal yell erupts from my lungs, and the agonized sound bounces around the concrete walls.
It doesn't do anything besides make my throat hurt, but once I start?
I can't stop. I shout threats and curses, promising to end Ella's bloodline.
I call her every name in the book. I tell her exactly how I'll put her down.
I scream and scream and scream until there's nothing left. I'm so fucking exhausted.
"Impressive." Ella suddenly appears outside my door, smirking. She clasps her hands together, and I notice a white bandage wrapped around one of them. "You and that bitch are really meant for each other."
"What's on your hand?"
"Oh, this?" She shakes her head with a scoff, stepping closer to the bars. "Your wife bit me. Like a dog. Disgusting. I can't wait until you watch her die."
Rage burns in my blood. She's so close. I could shove my arms through the bars and clamp my hands down on her throat. I'd enjoy the feeling. The light leaving her eyes. The rattling squeaks of her trying to gasp for air. I would love every fucking second of it.
"You look like shit. Good." She runs a hand over her sleek red hair. "You know why that's good? I'll tell you. The Nephilim is coming. He wants to see that you're here. He wants to see that I've done the impossible. And I have!"
She claps her hands together with an excited giggle. I grimace and take a tentative step forward.
"And you know what? It was easier than I thought.
You trusted Roman's word over anything. Everything!
You had so many warning signs!" She laughs and slaps her thigh.
"Shit, I really thought he was going to let it slip.
He told me all about the little spats he had with your wife.
Oh, he wanted to kill her. So bad. But I talked him down.
You're welcome, by the way." She grins. "It was hard.
And he was so fucking ready to be rid of you. "
"Tell me about that." It takes every fiber of my being to respond calmly, but I do.
"Now, now. I told you I wasn't going to monologue like a movie villain." She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Oh, what the hell? It'll be fun to watch you break. Do you remember when you graduated college, and your daddy wanted to set you up with permanent protection?"
My heart leaps into my throat. "Yes."
"Yeah, he wanted someone closer to your age. Someone you could trust. Someone who'd be able to—what was the term Roman used? Oh, right. He wanted someone who'd be able to, quote, 'hang with the boy.'" She points at me. "That's you."
"So, what? You planted him in the roster? Coached him on how to be the perfect applicant?" I shake my head. "I hired him, if you recall."
"You did! You took the bait! And he reported on you for years. Oh, man. That was so long ago. That was back when I was just coming up in the Seraph, trying to find my footing, make a name for myself. The long con, you know? And it fuckin' worked."
"Years?" The word slips out of me before I can bite it back.
Try as I might to remain cool, it hurts.
My professional life, my personal life—he entangled himself in all of it.
And I let him. I invited him in with open arms. His background check was clean, and his reported military service was impressive.
I remember being particularly impressed with his intellect.
She's right. He was everything I—and, regrettably, my father, may he rot in pieces—wanted in a head bodyguard. Their fucking plan worked.
"Years, Dante. Years." She cocks her head to the side. "Don't like that, do you? Make you sad?"
I stay silent. My hands flex into fists as I try to calm my breathing.
"He was overjoyed when you picked Melody, the crazy bitch.
He thought she might kill you. I, of course, was more interested in her criminal history.
God, her arrest made me look so good. Bit of a shame I'm no longer on the force, but my early retirement was accepted, and my service was celebrated.
It was lovely. You should have been there—a guest of honor!
" Ella barks out a laugh, leaning back on her heels.
"When does the Nephilim get here?" I grunt.
"Soon." The way she switches from hysterical laughter to stone-faced focus is jarring. "Very soon. Be on your best behavior, Dante, and I might give you a reward."
Before I can ask anything else, she turns on her heel and disappears down the hall. The click-clack of her shoes fades away and, again, I'm entirely alone.
Rushing to the bars, I try to poke my head through and look for an exit—or anything—but they're too close together.
All I can see is concrete flooring and ancient, peeling paint flaking from the walls.
The hall seems to extend down either side, but I can't tell how long it is.
I don't know if I'm underground. I don't know anything.
That much is exceedingly obvious. Am I that fucking stupid?
Years? Years of Roman lying to my face? And I never suspected him, not for a second.
The grief fades into a burning anger. I'm no longer sad for the loss of who I thought was my friend.
No, I'm fucking furious that he lied to me.
Not only did he lie—he directly put Melody in danger.
Repeatedly. He repeatedly put her in danger.
Fuck, he probably knew where she was the whole time Ella had her locked away.
They must have orchestrated the entire rescue mission.
Feeding tips and information to The Eligos and her team.
Timing the drive down to the second. He knew we wouldn't make it in time.
He knew. He knew everything. I only wish I could kill him again.
Time is strange in the prison. Without the sun, I have no idea when day or night is.
I sleep based on how my body feels. I eat the scraps that Hannah drops for me.
I gulp the water she brings. I pace around this tiny room, imagining their gruesome deaths.
And I think of Melody. I have no doubt she's raising as much hell as possible.
But I can't see her. I can't hear her. And that scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
Ella kept Melody trapped in her basement before, and it was a horrifying ordeal.
She killed a man and watched him rot. That would scar anyone but being in the same situation?
By the same woman? I can only hope Melody will emerge from this with all of her limbs, and hopefully, her sanity.
I hope the same for me. The silence is deafening, and I find myself muttering under my breath just to hear something.
Every time I sit and stare down the hallway, I swear the shadows move.
But that can't be true. There's nothing here.
The only time I see actual movement is when Ella or Hannah comes to taunt me.
I thought I saw a mouse once, but it was my imagination.
That can't be good. Hallucinations are worrying.
I snort to myself—this whole situation is worrying.
I've inspected every inch of this cell, and there's nothing I could use to escape.
The shining metal bars of the door haunt me, even in sleep.
I keep dreaming of Melody just out of reach, just on the other side.
Her wide, honey-brown eyes look for me in terror.
But I can't reach her. I can't help her.
I can't save her.
"Rise and shine, shithead!" Ella's voice rings out. I flinch, then curse myself for it. Fuck.
"We're going to have so much fun, Ro," Hannah adds.
Oh, god. Both of them? I force myself to stand straight with my head held high, glaring at the women as they appear in my doorway. Ella grins with malice in her eyes as she unlocks my cell door.
My heart leaps. Every muscle in my body tenses, and I try to mentally calculate my chances for escape.
Ella enters first, and Hannah follows after with a rolling cart piled high with medical supplies.
Adrenaline floods my veins, and I fucking run.
I shove Ella out of the way, I kick the cart into Hannah's stomach, and I sprint down the hall.
Empty cells flank either side. All of them are in disrepair with rusted bars on the doors.
My feet kick up paint chips and dust as I barrel down the hall.
My heart pounds a frantic beat against my ribs, and my lungs burn with exertion.
I don't know where I'm going. Maybe the electrical system leads outside?
I follow the wires on the ceiling, eventually finding a stairwell.
A stairwell with a very solid metal door. I slam into it and grunt my frustration as I yank on the handle. It doesn't budge. It doesn't fucking budge.
"Melody!" I bellow. "Melody, can you hear me?"
Silence. I yank on the door again, cursing as the metal rattles but doesn't give. Fuck. Fuck this place.
Ella's laughter echoes down the hall. The adrenaline in my system surges again—I have to get away.
I have to get out. I race down the stairs and duck into the darkened hall.
They didn't bother to illuminate the entire floor, it seems. I can't see where I'm going, but I run like my life depends on it. Hell, I know it does.
Something snags on my foot, and I fall to the dirty floor with a loud oof. I scrabble against chipped concrete and god knows what else, stagger back to my feet, and try to keep running. Hannah's unhinged cackling gets louder—I gave myself away. I gave away my position. Fuck!
"Come on out, Dante," Hannah sings. "There's nowhere to go."
"Like fuck," I grunt under my breath. At the end of the hallway, I graze my fingertips against the crumbling wall and spy a tiny bit of light.
A crack surrounding another door at the end of an identical stairway.
Sucking in a breath, I thunder up the stairs and yank on the door—nearly throwing myself back when it opens.
It fucking opens. I have to tamp down my triumphant laugh when the metal hinges squeal. Light floods my eyes, and I squint, but I don't fucking stop. I can't stop.
My lungs burn as I race through another hallway lined with more decrepit cells. They're all empty, too, but I hear noise. I hear movement.
"Melody!" I yell out, panting. "Are you there?"
"Dante!" Helena's voice greets me. "They took her up—I don't know which floor, but they took her."
My feet pound against the grimy floor as I search for Helena. "Keep talking, Helena, let me find you!"
"I'm here! You're close—you're getting closer!" Helena shrieks. "I can hear you; you're louder!"
Racing around another corner, I see Helena's hands sticking out between bars, waving frantically. Oh, thank god.
"Where is she?" I gasp, shuddering to a halt in front of her cell. "How can I get you out?"
"You don't have the keys?" She shrinks back with a grimace. "I thought you—how did you get out?"
"Kicked them. No keys." My heart sinks as I suck in breath after breath.
"They're still alive?" Helena whispers in horror. With my lungs burning, I can only nod.
"You shouldn't have done that, Dante." Ella appears behind me. I didn't hear her footsteps—she moves like a ghost. Turning to face her, I scowl at the malicious glee she's exuding. "Time to go back."