Zayden
Aslow drip hammers against my brain, the sound drawing me out of darkness.
My head is bowed, my breathing slow, and I open my eyes slightly, but even the shadowed room feels too bright.
I close them again, counting slowly, then open, close, open, close, repeating the motion until my vision adjusts and the thud in my head becomes somewhat bearable.
I try to shift my shoulders, but my hands are cuffed behind my back, arms threaded through the wooden slats of a chair, which means escaping it’s going to be a real bitch.
I’m underground. A basement, maybe, but if it is, it hasn’t been used in a while.
The floor is uneven cement, puddles dotted about, the drip that woke me coming from the far side of the room.
A pipe, or a leak from outside, maybe. The room is fairly large, a set of wooden stairs to my left, some sodden cardboard boxes to my right.
It’s freezing, and I’m barefoot, still in my jeans and T-shirt from the house.
I grit my teeth against the reminder of how I ended up here.
The world collapsing around me, the heat, the noise, the smoke and debris.
I had tried to get to the second floor—tried to get to her—but couldn’t.
Buried beneath rubble, I could hear Yale and Bullet, but my body wouldn’t let me do anything other than listen.
Once the sound cannon went off, I passed out. I can only guess that Ryker found me and brought me here.
Xavier was with Silence. He’ll have gotten her out. Unless they’re still in the panic room, but he knows to keep moving. Yale does, too.
A door opens at the top of the stairs, and a man comes into view, around my age, light hair cut short. He’s clean shaven and in dirty jeans and a thick sweater.
Ryker.
My memory of him is warped from what I now know, and it’s jarring to see him looking so … approachable. The kind of guy you’d smile at if he passed you in the street.
“You’re up,” he says simply, not looking at me, instead searching for something on the far side of the room.
He lifts an old tape player from a plastic box and walks over to me, placing the device at his feet, a good six feet from the chair I’m in.
“Nice to meet you, Zayden Silver.” I say nothing.
He can’t use my words against me if I don’t say a fucking thing.
He smiles. “Always in survival mode, eh?” I track him as he goes to the other side of the room and finds a second chair, dragging it behind him.
The noise claws at my brain, at a concussion that is probably one for the fucking books, but I hide my wince.
He places the chair by the tape player and sits.
“Do you know how long I looked for you? For all of you? It was like whack-a-mole. You’d pop up, or one of your victims would, and I’d get there and …
” He clicks his fingers. “Gone. But when I finally fucking found you, you got me a gift, didn’t you?
Our beautiful girl.” My fingers curl into my palms, but I remain expressionless.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of white, silk panties.
A small, gold crown is embroidered on the front, and I know that because I bought them for Silence.
“Are you crowning my pussy?”
“These are my favorite.” He lifts them, the garment dangling from his finger. “Pretty, right?” He presses them to his face and inhales, closing his eyes.
A flash of heat has me gripping my fingers so hard my knuckles crack. “I’m going to cut you in fucking half.”
“No, you won’t, because you’re handcuffed to a fucking chair. You have no power here, Z. You give me what I want, or I take it. And if I take it, I’ll destroy it at the same time, and you don’t want that.” He pauses, his breathing picking up. “You owe me.”
Disgust curls my lip. “Why? ’Cos I killed your brother? He’s one of fucking many.”
“You wanna do this the hard way? Fine.” He takes his phone out, resting Silence’s underwear on his thigh again, and dials. He puts it on speaker, running his fingertip over the crotch of the panties as he waits. The call connects, but no one speaks. “Silence? Is that you?”
“What do you want?” she asks, and I relax at the sound of her voice. She’s okay, at least, and hopefully far away from here.
Ryker smiles. “One of two things. You or the business. It’s really up to you which I get.”
“How about neither, fuck face?” Xavier says, and my lips twitch into a smile.
Ryker rolls his eyes. “You give me one, or I kill Zayden.”
“No,” Silence says quickly. “Please.”
“Ooh, she’s begging, Z. I like the sound of that.” He stands, swiftly closing the space between us, and takes something out of his pocket. A flick knife. The blade flips out, and he buries it into my shoulder. I bite down on my cheek, turning my face away, refusing to let Silence know I’m in pain.
I squeeze my eyes closed, grinding my teeth together as Ryker twists the blade. “Don’t give him anything, X,” I grunt. “Not a fucking thing.”
“You okay, Z?” Xavier asks.
“I’m fine.” Ryker pulls the knife out and plunges it into my other shoulder. Hot blood pours from the wound, and he twists again, smirking down at me. I wet my lips and breathe. “Where’s Yale? And Bullet?”
“Right here, Z,” Yale says. “We’re fine.”
“Good. Leave.” I pant as Ryker continues to twist. “Get Silence as far away from here as you can.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you!” she insists.
Ryker tuts and pulls out the knife, then sticks his finger into the wound.
Now, I shout. I can’t help it.
Silence whimpers. “Stop it, Ryker. Please.”
Ryker grins. “Beg me again, baby girl. I like it.” He pushes his finger deeper and I roar, trying to twist away, but it only makes it worse.
My heart thuds, the beat focused on the pain points, and I clench my fists. Sweat dots my brow and I fight the dizziness that threatens to take me away from the moment. I have to focus.
“Ryker, stop!” Silence screams. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“No, Silence,” I breathe.
Ryker removes his finger, wiping my blood on his jeans. “That depends. What am I getting? You or the Agency?”
“Not me,” she whispers, her voice tight. “We’ll sign it over to you. You bring him back to us and you can have it.”
I’m dizzy from pain, sweat pumping out of me. “Silence—”
“Shut up, Zayden. I don’t care about this fucking business. I care about you. I need you.”
Ryker takes his seat again, balling up the panties and gazing at them longingly. I’m clenching my fingers so intensely they’ve numbed, leaving a trace of tingling behind that I try to focus on so as not to pass out.
“Perfect. But I want you to be the one to meet me.”
“Not a fucking chance,” Xavier says.
“Either she does it, or I start cutting things off your brother. It can be public. I’m not planning on snatching her.
” His grin widens as he sniffs the panties.
“Something tells me Silence might want to come with me, anyway.” Even through my pain-filled haze, I focus on those words.
“I’ll send you a time and a place, Q. I love you. ”
“Rot in hell.”
He laughs and disconnects the call. “She’s so feisty.
She looks like a decent fuck, too.” He pulls something up on his phone and shows me the screen.
It’s footage of that night, of all of us.
Of Silence writhing in ecstasy. “I was coming dust by the time I’d finished playing with myself over this.
She’s such a filthy whore, isn’t she?” I raise my gaze to him, breathing fast through my nose.
“Did you really think I’d know all I do and not know where you were?
How do you think I got the explosives in there, Z?
They’ve been there for months, because I knew that would be where you’d run to, and I knew I’d want to watch while you thought you gained control. People-watching at its finest.”
It was an illusion. All of it. I was always going to end up here, and he was always going to get what he wanted. “Why? Why fucking play with us?”
“Because you killed someone who meant something to me.”
“Your brother was a rapist piece of shit.”
He shoots out of his seat and hits me. It’s a weak punch, and it snaps me out of the pain I was dangerously close to sinking into. A low laugh leaves me and I exhale deeply.
“No wonder you tied me up. If I got even one hit in, you’d fucking fold.”
He hits me again. Again. And again. Between each punch, he rolls his shoulders and his face reddens, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth. He’s mumbling almost frantically, and I can’t make out the words—I’m too focused on his position. Another hit. He gets close … closer …
I kick my legs out, wrap them around his knees, and yank him toward me. Slamming my head forward, I break his nose, and he shouts. His blood drips onto my face, and he tries to wriggle free, but I lock my legs around his waist. His arms flail, and one final pull has him falling on me.
I bite down on his cheek.
He screeches, trying to pull back, but I hold firm. Thick, soft skin splits between my teeth, and blood pours into my mouth as he screams and slaps at me, eventually sticking his finger back into the knife wound. I release him and he falls back, trying to cradle his cheek.
I spit his own blood at him, red saliva landing on his sweater. “And that’s me restrained. Imagine what I’m gonna do to you when I get out of here.”
His eyes bulge as he stares at his palm slick with his own blood. “You might be strong, Z, but I don’t need to physically hurt you to destroy you. I can just tell Silence the truth.”
My chest seizes, and despite the agony I’m in, my skin chills. I stare at him, my lips parted, the taste of iron clinging to my tongue.
There’s no way he knows that.
He can’t.
“You hid it well. But no secret stays buried.” He drags himself to his feet, body trembling. “And I have a feeling that when I tell Silence what happened, she’ll hate you forever.”
He presses a button on the tape player, screeching sound effects booming from the old device. He stumbles back up the stairs, leaving me tortured by the music and my lies.