Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Music, laughter, and voices hummed from the great hall. Happiness and cheer were everywhere, the guests oblivious to the events playing out under this roof, or even outside these walls. Their ignorance and entitlement only made me walk faster and with greater determination.
With each measured step, I tried to keep my expression blank of emotion, hoping I could slink away down the hall and grab a few things from my room before slipping out into the night.
“Brexley.” Istvan’s voice came from behind me. Ice frosted my spine, pulling me to a stop, my lungs cinching, my lids crushing together. Deep fear coated my tongue, and I fought back a gasp blooming in my throat. “I have been looking for you.”
I lifted my lashes. Instead of seeing the opulent décor of HDF, a dark, seedy bedroom was before me.
The smells of sex and sweat drenched the stale chamber.
Lit by a dim light from the nightstand, a lone figure sat on the bed, his face lined with frustration, making me strangely want to reach out and brush it away.
Aqua eyes jerked to me. Warwick’s scrutiny rolled over me, then beyond as if he could see what was going behind me. Whatever he saw in my face had him bounding off the bed. “Kovacs?”
My mouth parted, my eyes locking with his.
“Brexley?” Istvan’s cool voice snapped me back to HDF, abruptly cutting the link to Warwick. “Where have you been?”
Trying to keep my breath even, I twisted to face my guardian.
“I needed some fresh air.” I kept my chin up, my eyes directly on him.
His gaze slid from the direction I had come and back to me.
His expression did not falter; nothing about him altered.
But everything had changed. I could feel the tension of the game I had no idea we were playing.
Istvan would never come out and ask me. He would let me hang myself with my lies.
The Eastern Bloc was built on power-hungry dictators playing a game of spies like little boys.
You couldn’t trust anyone, and everyone was a suspect.
All I could do was continue the game. Engage as if everything was the same.
“Rebeka is wondering where you are. Reporters want to take a family picture.”
He had set down his chess piece, and now it was my move.
“Let me go freshen up, and I will be right in.” I motioned to my face.
“You do look flushed, my dear.” He tipped his head, his eyes burrowing into me.
“It’s warm in there.”
“Except you were outside getting fresh air . . .” He lifted a silvering eyebrow, taking one step closer to me.
“Too much champagne,” I said quickly. Keep calm. Keep calm.
The rope was looped around my neck, and I knew if I kept getting defensive, it would strangle me.
Staying silent, we watched each other. The sound of the orchestra music in the main ballroom cheerfully buzzed from the party. It contrasted with the tension mounting between us.
“Well, go ahead, my dear.” He forced his lips into a smile. “The powder room is right there. I’ll wait for you.”
“Please, return to your guests. I’ll only be a minute. I’m sure you have so many people to greet.” I smiled back, trying to pretend everything was normal.
“Rebeka would be angry if I returned without you.” He flicked his head to the door close to me. “Now go on.”
I had no other option. If I resisted, he would have no doubt something was wrong. Istvan wanted to keep me close, but I hoped he didn’t realize how aware I was of his plan for me. What I had overheard.
If he did . . . game over.
Pulling my lips into a soft smile, I dipped my head. “I’ll be quick.” I casually headed for the water closet behind me, my heart choking my throat.
Shutting the door, the panic bubbled up, a small whimper escaping my throat. The feel of the folder against my hip pumped the blood in my veins faster.
My entire world was a house of cards, ready to come tumbling down.
Sucking in gulps of air, I knew the only course I could take was to go along with him, smile for the cameras, pretend to be the ward he shaped and molded.
Fixing my already perfectly styled hair, I tried to calm the fear trembling my limbs and took a deep breath. I pried open the door, schooling my features into serenity, something I’d been doing all my life.
Istvan’s attention lasered on me as I stepped out, his lips pursing as if he knew he’d won, giving me no out—unless I was ready to end this pretense and lay down my cards. Stop this game of cat and mouse, where both of us knew I was lying. He didn’t yet know that I knew he knew.
He curved his arm, an invitation for me to take it and let him lead me in. Plastering a happy smile on my face, I reached for his arm.
My tall heels caught on the edge of the rug, and I stumbled.
It was a second.
A breath.
A blink in time.
The folder slipped from the knotted layers next to my thigh, the fabric abandoning its hold, as if my dress itself was a conspirator against me.
My stomach plunged through the floor, everything speeding up and slowing down.
The file hit the floor, spreading out the documents across the rich, ornate rug. Dr. Rapava’s notes were in full view, the half-concocted formula on top. Istvan’s eyes dropped to the pages. His brows furrowed, taking in the papers spread on the ground before his attention snapped up to mine.
His cold blue eyes burned with fury, flaming with another emotion.
Not hurt or betrayal. It was confirmation.
I had proven myself the traitorous turncoat he decided I was.
There would be no explanations or attempts to plead my side.
I wouldn’t be able to deny I stole them from his vault.
No second chances. He didn’t work that way.
Our eyes met. Oxygen caught in my throat. A drop of time suspended as we both waited for the other one to act. With a flash in his eyes, a tug of his lip, I shifted from daughter to enemy.
“You foolish girl. I gave you everything.” Venom hissed from his mouth.
“Guards!” Istvan’s voice pierced the air.
My survival instincts slammed into me. I bent over, grabbing the top documents, leaving those out of my reach, and flipped around.
I had no idea what I was doing; there was no escaping, no getting out of here.
I knew where each guard was stationed, the amount covering HPF inside and out, their skill level. They were the best of the best.
It was impossible, but I couldn’t fight the feeling in my gut to run, to get outside the walls.
Tucking the pieces of paper into the fabric over my breast, I scrambled toward the stairs. Istvan’s shout collided into me as guards came from every direction. The handful of party guests wandering around cried out in disbelief, flooding out from the ballroom.
“Don’t let her escape. Traitor!” Istvan no longer kept up his pretense. The walls had been stripped down, showing the bones in our closets.
“Stop!” a guard yelled, his hands grabbing my arm painfully.
The Games at Halálház taught me to look at everything as a possible weapon, even when it seemed like there was nothing.
Hopping out of my heels, I picked one up, swinging it around with all my might. The sharp high heel Rebeka forced me to wear sank into his cheek.
There were sounds of breaking bones, flesh, and veins.
A guttural cry howled through the room, and he dropped his grip on me.
Guilt and grief warred in my chest. I knew him.
I knew all of them, at least by face, but my desperate need to escape rose in me like a cornered beast. My life took precedence over theirs.
The monster of Halálház, who murdered with her own hands, tearing into flesh, who learned to kill or be killed, burst through my conscience, taking over.
Another guard pulled out his rifle, pointing at me.
“No! Don’t kill her. She’s sick and confused,” Istvan ordered. “I want her alive.”
Alive so he could torture information from me.
Slamming through the growing throng of guests pouring out to see what was going on, I pushed through to the edge of the stairs. A dozen guards ran up for me like a human wall, blocking my escape. Terror constricted my lungs.
Panic could lock you in place, or it could turn you feral and pitiless.
With a grunt, I leaped over the railing, dropping to the floor at least one story down with a hard thud. My bones creaked and jolted at the impact, but adrenaline kept pain far in the distance as it poured through my veins.
Commotion pounded in my ears, all of it drumming together like white noise. Old friends, both men and women, became enemies as more leaped for me.
Hiking up my puffy dress, I kicked out at one, twisting myself around and slamming my fist into another, using my elbow to slam into the third’s nose, smashing it in pieces.
Trying to slip away, a woman guard seized the hem of my dress, yanking me back.
This dress was the epitome of what not to wear in a fight.
The sound of fabric ripping tore through the air, the delicate silk ripping away, making the soldier stumble. I dove for her stomach, plowing her into the few guards behind her, driving them to the ground.
A fist slammed into my jaw, stealing my breath, and I staggered to the side.
I had no weapon, and more and more soldiers were coming for me, but I knew if I stopped now, my life was over. I was only alive now because Istvan ordered them not to kill me.
Yet.
With a deep growl and my teeth bared, I punched, kicked, and fought everybody who neared me, inching myself closer and closer toward the door. Vibrations of pain volleyed through my bones.
“Kovacs!” A familiar timbre hollered through the noise, halting everyone, including me. “Stop!”
Following the voice, I spotted the man I had idolized for years, craving his teachings like a drug.
My mentor, Bakos, kept his eyes locked on me, heading calmly for me.
“Ease back, soldier.” He kept his shoulders back, his body tight, in defensive mode, but I saw a sadness in his eyes, a heartbreaking confusion.