Chapter 81 Gedeon
GEDEON
As the thick doors slammed shut behind us, I followed Ezra down the hallways of Ardaton’s prison.
Left, right, right, and then left again we turned, every new passage whiter than white and squeaky clean. Matching plastic doors blended with the surroundings, silent, not a rustle of clothing or a scrape of shoes behind them.
“Hurry up,” Ezra grumbled as we headed for an elevator at the end of yet another hallway. “We don’t have all day.”
Although I had allowed him to cuff my hands behind my back and transport me in the back of a military truck, his mood had soured by the minute the closer we got to Ardaton.
Any time I had looked wrong at one of the soldiers sitting with us—guarding Ezra—he would tsk in warning, reminding me he had Kali and Zion apprehended.
Yet my cooperation hadn’t lessened Ezra’s scowl. Seemingly, it had the opposite effect.
Curious.
One of three soldiers nudged my shoulder, and I had to repeat the exercise of inhaling for four seconds, holding my breath for the same amount of time, and then doing the same with the exhale.
If I hadn’t done it, the soldier would have ended with his face smashed into the floor despite my restraints.
Once you spent your life training for war, a couple of thin bracelets forged out of metal and a short chain connecting them could not hold you for long. Too many methods existed to break free of them.
We came to a stop before the elevator, and I smirked at my so-called brother.
The movement unsettled the swelling under my right eye from a punch I’d become a target to, but the smarting added a…
spice of sorts to my voice as I remarked, “Well, I have all the time in the world.” Leaning against the steel frame, I savored the chill permeating my clothing and seeping into my muscles.
“What’s the rush, Ezra? Is your new master so impatient he can’t wait for his servant to arrive? ”
His light brown complexion grew beet red. “You should watch how you speak to those above your station.”
“Hmm. Somehow, I think mine is higher than yours.” Adjusting my position, I stifled a groan from the fire blossoming in my fractured ribs.
“Otherwise, I would have either a bullet in my head or my throat open right now. Instead, I have you leading me to your boss. That makes me more important here.”
“We’ll see about that,” he sneered, rapidly tapping a set of numbers into the keypad. His nail-less fingers surely had to twinge any time he touched something.
Zion knew precisely how to aggravate the nail root to maximize pain.
A ding marked the elevator’s doors retracting and revealing what could only be described as a sterile box.
Ezra bit out, “Get in.”
War or not, you had to be ready for your plans to go to shit.
A good strategy meant you went in prepared, but it was the adaptability that swayed the outcome one way or another.
So, like a cooperative captive, I squeezed inside the elevator.
My three guards, as mute as statues, flanked me, serving as buffers between me and my brother.
The box enclosing us resembled a surgery room: all shining metal, smooth seams, the space optimized for cleanup, the fluorescent lights so bright they caused glints to leap around and scorch my retinas.
But before I could take a move from Zion’s playbook and taunt Ezra some more, we had already descended however many levels and were marching down another hallway.
Ezra entered a code into another palm-sized keypad installed in a wall, and the snow-colored door, as spotless as everything else in their containment institution, clicked.
Without waiting another moment, I kicked the plastic, swinging the door open and striding inside.
Remaining behind the threshold, Ezra drawled with unfiltered mirth, “Have fun.” A wave of goodbye, and he closed the door, locking me in the long, rectangular room.
No windows, no chairs, just a bolted-to-the-floor table and the man I recognized from the broadcast that he and his colleagues had transmitted back in Ilasall.
The large mirror spanning the length of the room reflected the tumble of his black curls, each coil a snake poised to strike.
As I sauntered over to the Head of Ardaton, I could feel the eyes of the venomous creatures tracking me. I knew they weren’t real, merely a figment of my imagination, but I couldn’t deny the aura of rot hanging around him.
Halting a few feet from the leader of the city, I inclined my head. “Adder.”
“Gedeon.” He graced me with a smile. “Though you should probably know that my subordinates don’t call me by my name.”
Paying no attention to the twinge in my abdomen, I widened my stance. “I’m not your subject.”
“For now.” Adder plucked a white tablet off the table, and the device instantly came to life. Before I could begin to wonder what his plan was, a faint beep echoed in the room, and my handcuffs loosened. “Here. We can talk like equals now.”
I tossed the pair of shackles onto the table. “We will never be that.” The rattle of metal striking metal reverberated, forging a symphony of uncertainty and peril.
“I see you’re not one for introductions.” The Head of Ardaton rubbed his dimpled chin, his appearance more rugged than what it had been in the broadcast. “But we can skip that part. I believe you have already figured out where you are.”
“Ardaton’s prison. Underground.” The most logical conclusion was typically the right one.
Adder hummed. “Correct.” Unhooking his shining cufflinks shaped like raindrops, he noted, “So your brother can follow orders. Good to know.”
“He’s not my brother,” I sneered as I rubbed my right wrist. Ezra had secured the restraints purposefully too tight. “Our…relation aside, I wouldn’t mind knowing why I’m standing here instead of being used as fertilizer for your soil.”
Adder rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt, the garment a copy of what he had donned in the broadcast. “I don’t kill those who are useful to me.”
My eyebrows rose of their own accord. “And I am?”
“I don’t speak empty words, Gedeon.” The Head of Ardaton pulled up some program on his tablet, and as the screen flashed, the room-length mirror became matte. “First, take a look.”
Gradually, the glass grew transparent, and—
My knees wobbled. I had to clutch the clear surface to keep myself upright. Cold tickled my palm as I stared at two identical rooms divided by a thin barrier made out of the same material as the screen I was pressed against.
Dread seized control of my limbs, and I ceased blinking.
Because in the room to my right, Zion was secured to a chair in the center of the space, his head hanging forward, his golden-brown strands too short to conceal the numbers written on his nape.
Strings of chains clung to his ankles, wrists, elbows, and torso like vines set on suffocating him.
If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, you would think he was—
No. He was breathing.
His chest was expanding in shallow bursts. Though how was the question, as his right arm, from hand to shoulder, looked far from right. The binds didn’t lay properly against his flesh—the swelling made them dig into his muscles, framing the bits of ivory protruding from a dozen gashes.
His limb had been shattered.
“Please.” Kali’s plea trickled through the speakers. “Let him go,” she croaked out, secured to a chair like Zion, but in a separate room.
Only, while he had been stripped to his pants, she was fully naked.
“Don’t worry.” Adder’s assurance kindled the rage balling my fists. “They can’t hear us.”
My pulse ebbed and flowed, roared and whispered, its pace as erratic as a winter storm. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Kali straining to watch the door in her cell.
Gauze wrapped around her hand lured cold sweat to soak my soldier’s shirt.
The drenched-in-blood medical fabric couldn’t conceal the lack of two fingers.
Or distract me from noticing the uneven contours of her body.
Localized swelling told me she had been hit, and repeatedly.
The blows had been carefully doled out, but the bruises would appear in a day or two.
And the cities circulated rumors we were the savages. Their own cruelty had reached levels so high, they caused my fists to clench so hard they creaked.
“I’ll stay here.” Kali faced the barrier separating her and Zion, a few strands glued to her glistening cheeks. “Just please…” Sniffling, she cleared her throat. “I will comply with whatever you ask of me if you let Zion walk out of here.”
My intact ribs crumbled at her request. She was ready to give herself up for him.
But I couldn’t lose either of them.
“Can they see each other?” My inquiry came out hoarse, more of a rumble than a sentence.
I knew better than to ask Adder to free them.
“If we allow it.” Adder tapped the glass. “This wall, like the one separating them, is made of special glass. We can make it opaque, one-directional, or adjust it to be fully transparent.”
So the answer was no.
Though I didn’t doubt they were goading Kali by having shown her a glimpse of Zion sometime before my arrival. And then had turned the glass back into a mirror, using the device as a torture method.
Schooling myself, I shoved the need to break things deep inside me. I couldn’t let instincts rule over logic. Not when Adder had yet to state what he wanted.
I couldn’t lose my only bargaining chip—myself—before I had a chance to use it.
Loosening my fists, I demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”
Adder stuffed the tablet under his armpit.
“I want you to join my forces and assist me in taking over Coriattus.” His hands slipped into the pockets of his black slacks.
“If you help me, I will allow you and your people to either join Ardaton afterward or live in the ruins of the other two cities,” he said, and then added, “Free and unbothered.”