Chapter 36 Nyx
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
nyx
The convoy is abandoned about a mile behind me, but not before I searched it rigorously for anything I could sneak onto my person.
But there was nothing to find, and that vulnerable feeling tried to sink its teeth into me.
I’m still biting back at it. I turn back to stare down the darkened treelined road, the leaves blending with the hazy night sky.
When I face forward, the building provokes me.
Its weathered bricks stand fearsome as they stretch into the distance.
The mesh gated fortress hugging around it as the north Pacific Ocean slams into the mixture of concrete wall and rocks that forms the base.
Two vehicles are parked inside the gates, but they're empty upon my approach. My heartbeat trips over itself as I wonder if either one belongs to my father. I push towards the gate, noticing the chains that kept away any unwanted visitors have been breached, the padlock lying forgotten in the gravelly grass. My hands wrap around the cold metal surface, slowly creeping the gate open, but the metal creaks wildly and the wind carries the sound, the reverberation yawning into the wide open space. There goes my stealthy entrance. I'm not sure why I tried to execute one. I’m defenseless against the unknown, all I have is my mind and my hands. And whilst they haven’t let me down before, this might be my biggest challenge yet.
The broken, iron-barred windows reveal the darkness inside the old factory.
Glass lies scattered from the missing fractions around the frames.
There's only one entry door ahead, its once white emulsion now yellowed and tattered by the salt air that’s peeled away from the sea.
A large grey, overhead coiling door dominates the center, and I drift my feet towards it, noticing its lifted just a couple inches above the ground.
A faint glow smokes out from beneath it, and I crouch on all fours to get a glimpse inside.
My body tenses when I see my father's boots about thirty feet away from me, still strapped to the chair and not moving.
My panicked eyes dart around between the slits, trying to identify any other movements.
I can't, but I'm no fool. Graves will be hiding in the shadows, waiting for his moment to pounce. I push my feet, stones dented into my knees and hands from the gravel, along with sharp shards of bricks that have fallen from the exterior building. A sudden force sears my palm into the ground, a black leather boot pressing into my skin, causing the debris beneath to pierce into me. I’m yanked up by my hair, and I throw my elbow into their gut.
A 'woof' of air brushes over the shell of my ear as I turn, but there’s a second individual.
Dressed in black with a mask only revealing his menacing eyes, a rifle in his hand.
A thick, Russian accent is punched around his words, making me grind my molars as he bites out “Move.” The guard I injured grips me by my hood, throwing me forward towards the door.
My hand reaches out to wrap around the handle, forming a fist as it trembles with the adrenaline coursing through me.
You can do this Nyx. And I will, for my dad.
Even if it means giving my life for his, and that Noc might hate me for it.
My heart pounds out a rhythmic ache, while thoughts fill my mind of how I might end up breaking our promise, that he'll need to wander the rest of this life without me.
But I couldn't live with myself if I allowed Graves to take another person I care for.
And If I die, so does Graves. A stone clatters from the sky above me, and my eyes glance to the roof to see another masked man, gun in hand, staring down at me like a peasant at his feet.
His gaze lifts over the vast area beyond, and I follow it.
A host of silhouettes mirroring the one on the roof now line the perimeter, edging out from the tree line. Graves has this place locked down.
I turn back to face the door, forcing down a swallow as I heave it open with both hands, a high-pitched metallic squeal echoing as the door grinds against the hinges - may as well make an entrance.
My mother always did. My trainers crunch over the various fragments littered across the floor, the only sound in the room as I approach.
I edge around a steel beam, and the sight before me roots me to the middle of the floor.
Seeing it through a screen was one thing, but with my own eyes, it wrenches a blade through my chest.
Dad’s head is slumped forward, his denim jacket soaked through with blood from the fresh wound, right at an area his vest wouldn’t protect.
I rush forward, collapsing at his feet as my hands grip his knees to shake him.
“Dad.” My voice breaks, and I swallow down the bursting damn of emotions evoked by seeing him.
I bite my tongue at the sob that wants to penetrate straight from my heart.
I’ve never seen him in a state like this.
He has been hit from behind, likely upon entry.
He also doesn't answer me, doesn’t react to my voice, and my blood stills at the unwelcome thoughts prowling the back of my mind.
“Dad, It’s Brodie.” His breathing is deep, almost like he's sleeping.
When I was younger, I used to sneak up on him when he was taking a nap.
I never managed to scare him, because he always knew.
Was always aware of his surroundings and someone approaching him.
The fact that he isn't answering sends a glacial chill through me.
I hold his head up and use my other hand to lift his eye lid.
His eyes look glossy and unfocussed. He's been drugged.
I check over his neck frantically, until I notice a small red mark, irritation over the skin where he's been injected.
I reach around to check his bindings where his hands are cable tied.
The chair is also bolted to the floor, the metal clamp bright and un-scuffed.
Graves has been here for a while, but the minerals of the bolts still radiate that shiny newness.
My dad isn't fully restrained, which can only mean he's had a large dose, and combined with the head and shoulder wound - Graves isn’t looking at him as a threat.
My ears instantly tense, pulling back to the sound of footsteps thumping behind me.
Tiny needles start to prickle all over my back. There's two sets.
One belongs to someone heavier, taller. And the others are lighter.
I stand to my full height, fists cutting crescent moons into my palms as I stare down at father.
Vengeance. That’s what's strumming through my veins.
Graves has gotten him here, weakened him, and a lethal spike of anger rises around me, white heat now vibrating in my bones.
I shift to face Graves, but stop mid-way as I take in the spectacle.
He stands tall, still in his military jacket, a smug look across his face.
He puffs his chest out, hands clasping behind his back as the smile grows wider at my realization.
My eyes zone in on his accomplice. Natalia.
She's dressed exactly how I normally do.
The all-black tactical gear, right down to the fucking boots.
But the newest addition is the hair. She wears long, dark locks, mirroring my own in shade and length.
She peels the wig off her head, shaking out her wild blonde hair from beneath, making it look unhinged as her wild eyes glare at me with hatred, a snarl so hard on her expression, she looks a second away from growling.
Her hand reaches down, pulling off a prosthetic scar along her wrist.
It all pieces together, the fragments fusing rapidly in my mind.
Graves has used her to lure my father here, faking the outfit, hair and scar - just to add to the realism.
She throws the latex at my feet and it lands with a sick slap on the concrete floor between us.
It's the only sound to cut through the air as we stand staring at each other, while the tension soars between our trigon stance.
It’s the final straw for my inner demon.
A faint click sounds in my head as she's released from her cage, into the wilderness.
A sinister grin spreads across my face, the coldness within the factory walls draws itself to me, allowing me to channel who I need to be.
“You can try to be me all you want Natalia, he'll still never love you.” Her expression falters, wiping that idiotic smirk clean off as she lunges forward.
Graves throws his hand out across her chest, catching her.
“You'll have your time with her,” he grumbles, and her jaw clenches as she glares at me from head to toe. Graves edges forward, but I don’t move a muscle.
I hold my ground steady and firm, daring for him to get closer, my cheeks burning with the smile I keep plastered on it.
Not letting either of them think for a second that there’s an ounce of fear in my body.
“I’m here, Graves.” My hands splay out wide, rotating myself in a full circle, showing him my back as a dent to his ego that he’s not a threat to me.
“Let him go, you have no need for him. I’m here.
” His laugh booms across the room, feeling the vibrations whip back to ripple my ear drum.
“Now, where would be the fun in that? No. I'm going to have you watch while the life leaves his eyes. And then, we’re going to take you to your new home, and you’re going to be a good little pet from there on out.
” His words chafe the lining of my stomach, causing it to contract, my eyes grazing the two of them as he turns his head over his shoulder, nodding to Natalia.