1. Natty
ONE
NATTY
PRESENT
It’s funny what you think about when you’re worried your life might be ending.
A favorite memory, a star speckled sky on a humid summer night. That first kiss. That last hug from a loving parent.
My tortured mind tossed up the image of a massive bullfrog, all green and slimy with large, cloudy eyes. The memory was so crisp and clear and agonizing.
So frustratingly annoying.
That frog was supposed to name me victor of the summer frog hunting championships. It had slipped through my fingers at the last second, making me the loser and crowned Silas as the winner.
It was such a stupid memory, but it was stuck there, like a broken record, running on repeat until all I could see were those bulbous eyes staring back at me from under the water. That moment wouldn’t have changed a single thing about my life, and yet I remember how badly I wanted to win. I just wanted Silas to see me best him at just one thing. Frogs weren’t his specialty, they were mine.
I was better at catching them, drawing them and even taking notes about them .
Which used to drive him crazy because keeping tabs on all the wildlife we’d come across out in the grove was his obsession.
He had to ask me for facts about them, and it used to make me feel a thousand feet tall.
I didn’t have a clue why that memory from over sixteen years ago was rotating like a carousel in my head. I was ten and felt like I was the coolest girl on planet earth, all because I felt like I knew more than my foster brother.
Maybe I needed that memory to ground me because if I thought about my current condition, I’d start to lose all hope. It was easier to focus on a competition my ten-year-old brain never got past than the fact that I had been kidnapped and was currently being held hostage.
It helped that I had a theory about this room.
While some might argue that the space didn’t really matter, knowing the details of my prison helped me make peace with my fate. It helped me feel in control.
I was nearly positive that I was being kept inside a garage…well at least in some respect. I had walked the length of the walls and knocked on each stud; there were no buttons or switches anywhere along the walls from what I found, but the space was empty and cold. I had found sealed water bottles along the floor, my boot tripping over them as I moved in the dark. Popping the lid, I would sip the water until it wasn’t entirely full, and then I’d set it down as a marker against the stud.
My memories of what Silas used to drill into me were rusty and half clips, but I recalled him showing this tactic when he’d returned from one of his trips.
“Hello?”
My voice echoed, bouncing around the empty room, returning to me as though I was an idiot for assuming anyone might answer. The concrete under my feet was cold, which was another reason I had assumed a garage. There was no bay door, or even a slice of light to indicate one was there but tightly closed.
I had no idea how long I had been in here. Except exhaustion hadn’t pulled me under yet, nor had I experienced any intense hunger. So maybe a few hours at best .
My mind pulled up the images of what had led up to getting that text from Silas.
There were explosions going off all over the Stone Rider property…I had gotten a text on my phone from Silas, telling me to go outside and head to our meeting spot in the woods. When I arrived, he wasn’t there. So I waited, sitting with my back against a tree, all while more and more explosions went off, ripping my home from the ground up. Tears slid down my face as I watched the destruction from the distance. The agony over losing the club was nothing compared to the fear I had over losing my friends.
I should have known then that something was off because leaves crunched from somewhere behind me. Silas would never have been so loud. My reflexes were too slow as a hand came from around the tree, holding something to my mouth. I thrashed, trying to pull at the firm grip over my face, but within seconds everything went dark.
I woke up here.
Fear was a fist around my throat, squeezing until I got to my feet and began to move around the room. It helped me visualize how big the space was, and when I finally felt a corner, and began advancing down that wall, it was a small relief because it seemed very much like I was being held in a residential house.
Just to be sure I was right, I grabbed one of the water bottles and tossed it as hard as I could until it hit the far wall. Less than a second.
I did the same thing, but aimed for the ceiling. Two seconds.
Drawing up a mental image, I fell into a crouch and pressed my ear against the wall…hoping for some kind of noise. Nothing.
I refused to accept that there wasn’t something that would trickle through. A motorcycle engine, pans clanking, men laughing or talking. Anything.
I stayed there, until I began drifting off. With my arms wrapped around my knees, I waited until I dozed. My eyes were closed, but even when I opened them, nothing changed.
I was starting to feel lethargic, and my stomach began to growl, which had panic swirling in my chest.
Never get to the point where you’re desperate.
I could hear Silas in my head, going through drills with me on how to get out of situations like this one. We were only ten when we started doing them, but then we stopped.
I’ll be back soon, Caelum…I promise.
I pushed the memories away and focused on my hunger. I was feeling desperate; I needed to take control. Spinning around, feeling the wall for the bottle I’d used to mark the space earlier as a stud, I moved to the left of it and lowered myself to the floor, until I was flat on my back. I made sure to keep my hand over the bottle, so I knew where not to go, and then I shoved both feet as hard as I could toward the wall. I still had on my boots, so the hit landed with a loud echo around the room.
I didn’t wait; I repeated the movement until I felt the wall give.
Drywall caved in around my boots, and I got up, moving to my knees to dig through the hole I’d created. The insulation was going to be a bitch against my skin, but I began tugging it out, until the wall was clear.
Once I was sure it was empty, I felt around and ensured it wasn’t brick or anything solid on the other end, but all I felt was cold concrete.
Anxiety began hovering in my chest, that feeling tightening more and more. I was so confident when I’d woken up, so sure this plan would work. Find the studs, identify the weakest part of the wall. Kick through it. Use whatever you can, there will always be another room you can get into. Silas’ voice was in my head, but I kept coming to a loss for what to do next.
With a shaky breath, I felt the concrete again, now feeling disoriented. The darkness of the room felt like it was closing in around me, so tight I could hardly breathe.
Think, Natty.
Think.
I tried to go through my memories for something more, but all I could manage to focus on was several weeks back when I was out there in our spot, trying to exchange a note with Silas, when I’d been discovered by a random member of a rival club.
He was going to hurt me; he’d told me he was going to hurt me, but I was armed.
Yet, as he advanced, I couldn’t seem to make my brain coordinate with my body. My finger was on the trigger, and the man kept gaining ground, but I couldn’t do it. Silas had walked up behind me and pulled it for me. He’d saved me from a situation I was perfectly capable of saving myself from, but I’d locked up.
There was no motor function at all when fear was calling the shots. I thought I had controlled this…I stupidly assumed that I was like Silas in that way.
I was just a fraud, a little girl riding the coattails of a boy who wanted to keep her.
My throat burned as I slid against the wall, until my ass hit the cold floor. My fingers trembled as I dusted them off, wiping them on my jeans.
This wasn’t going to work.
I wasn’t going to get out of here.
I was close to hyperventilating when suddenly there was a sound coming from the left of me. These walls were solid, no doors or handles of any kind, but it sounded like…
Holy shit. A hole in the wall just opened, letting in a slice of sunlight.
I scrambled to my feet, trying to force my eyes to adjust to the way the light cut through the inky black room and the figure emerging through it.
Finally, the man did something on his phone, I could see the illuminated screen in his palm, and suddenly the room filled with light. I winced, holding my arm up to shield my eyes. Once they had adjusted, I realized who had walked in.
Wearing thick brown motorcycle boots, distressed jeans ripped in the knees, and a black t-shirt beneath a faded leather cut. The insignia patch on the front read, SOSMC and I knew that on the back there would be a skeleton atop a motorcycle on fire.
The name sewn above the president patch had a strange sense of hope replacing all the anxiety and fear that had been filling my lungs and chest since waking up here.
Alec Veda.
His dark hair was pushed away from his face, revealing gray eyes that had always looked at me in such a calculating way. My voice came out as a rasp as I took a step closer.
“Alec?”
“Well, if it isn’t my little hunter.” His voice was smooth and deep as he stopped in front of me, his callused finger found my chin, tipping my head back.
I abandoned the notion that he could have been the one who had taken me or had anything to do with this. Instead, my fear and terror evaporated as familiarity took its place.
“What are you doing here?”
His finger remained under my chin, and my head must have been a little muddled because he wasn’t explaining why he was the one who’d walked into the room. Or why he didn’t seem surprised to see me here.
All at once it clicked, and that sudden hope burned to poisonous ash.
“Wait…”
His face lowered, that grin revealing his white teeth. I pulled away, but he held me firm.
Hurt slid through my voice. “It was you?”
“It’s complicated, Artie.” His lips were nearly touching mine, and I tried to yank from his hold again as tears gathered behind my eyes.
“Silas will kill you.”
Alec smiled, against my lips. “He’s already going to, Artemis. The second we took you; we signed our death certificates.”
Alec wouldn’t do this…he was the president of a rival club nearby called the Sons of Speed. He would never win a war against Silas. He’d kept his distance all these years; there was no way he was going to try and create a war now, and certainly not by using me.
Dread curled in my stomach like a thundercloud. “Who’s we?”
The door cracked again, and a new face emerged. A face hauntingly familiar but one I was positive I’d never actually seen in person.
Alec shifted the smallest bit so he was blocking me. It was how he used to stand when I needed protecting. I tried not to let my memories get tangled in who this man used to be, because it was clear he was not the same person anymore.
The man carried himself like a king, and as he stared down at me, I felt every inch like an impoverished thief. As if I’d stolen something from him, it made something shift in my stomach, like when driving and you hit a dip you weren’t expecting.
Alec’s throat cleared, as the man stepped closer. If this was who I assumed it was, then he was a different breed of monster .
Different than Silas, and different than Alec…he was truly the blueprint but there was nothing holding him together. No code, no moral fiber…no love.
He was the sort of darkness that corrupted, the kind that corroded and took without mercy.
I stole a step back right as Alec explained, “Natty, this is Fable. My father.”