27. Ripley
CHAPTER 27
RIPLEY
MY NAME IS HUMAN – HIGHLY SUSPECT
I startle awake to the sound of a man screaming. Deep, blood-curdling screams. The kind that only a few are unlucky enough to ever hear. It’s a barbaric sound.
My cheek is pressed up against something warm and hard. The earthy smell of burning wood lingers beneath blood and mildew lacing the air. It emanates from the sculpted chest I quickly realise I’m cuddled up to.
Our hips are aligned, legs tangled together and bodies conjoined. Not a scrap of fabric to keep us apart. The fact we survived the night pales in comparison to our current sleeping arrangement. Lennox’s face is spooned in the crook of my neck.
Lennox.
Fucking Lennox!
He didn’t release me for even a second as we drifted, shivering and near-hypothermic, through hours of misery. When the lights slammed on and the air conditioning stopped, he didn’t move to let go, and I didn’t ask him to.
We slept like this.
Entwined as one.
Bathing in the body heat of the man who should be my enemy, I let my thoughts stray. Raine is never far from my mind. I’m plagued by the image of him being dragged in here and tortured alongside us.
Xander’s almost-black gaze soon sneaks in too. Hardened diamonds of hatred and fascination. For once, he can’t follow me. I’m far beyond his reach now. He’ll never get the chance to break me—not before the clinicians do.
“Fuck.” It sounds like Lennox’s throat is coated in gravel. “That hurts.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
At the sound of my laughter, he tenses up. “Hey.”
“Hi. Comfortable?”
It seems to take him a moment to remember our conversation. The sordid truths we told in the dead of night. Even now, it feels like an immaterial dream. Lennox would never apologise for any wrongdoing.
Only, he did.
Perhaps I don’t know Lennox at all.
“Five-star luxury,” he grumbles. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“Be thankful for that.”
Every limb feels like it has been dipped in gasoline and set alight. A combination of hydrotherapy, beatings and sub-zero temperatures has left me feeling like a pack of wolves ripped me apart at the seams.
When he shifts, hissing in pain, I expect to be shoved away. Talk of redemption never holds up in the cold light of day—even when day constitutes fluorescent lighting and waking from agony-induced unconsciousness.
Yet the inevitable rejection and return to status quo never comes. Lennox stills, his handcuffed arms remaining curled around me, chiselled muscles contracting as he crushes me closer. I can hear his heart beneath his breastbone.
“We won’t be left alone for long,” he advises. “Better prepare yourself.”
“Why don’t they just kill us? It’s quicker. Cleaner too.”
“While we’re alive, we still have our uses. The Z wing repurposes every piece of discarded trash.”
I’d rather die than be treated like a lab rat. I don’t want to become another one of their creations. An experimental prototype rolled out to the highest bidder.
“What if they hurt Raine?” I whisper in horror. “Or Xander?”
“That’s why we have to keep them entertained,” Lennox replies like he’s given this some thought. “As long as we’re here, we have their attention. Our family will be safe.”
“Our?”
Breath stalling, Lennox’s head lifts from my neck. He looks down at me through vicious bruises. One seafoam eye is swollen shut, while dried clumps of blood are soaked into his thick stubble.
The necklace around his neck is still intact, stark against burnished skin. I’m surprised they haven’t taken it. Anything to dehumanise and antagonise. Perhaps that stage is yet to come.
“You care about Raine.” His eyes ping-pong between mine
“Yes.”
“Do you care about Xander?”
When I don’t immediately answer, he lifts a thick brow. Right. No pretences. We have nothing in here but our truth. Last night, Lennox gave me his.
“I… Yes. No.” I close my eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. “Look, it’s complicated.”
It takes him a moment to find the words to respond.
“Family isn’t who you’re born to. It isn’t blood or birth lines or adoption papers. It isn’t even a legality.”
“Then what is it?”
Licking his plump lips, Lennox’s stare bores into me. “It’s the people you choose to give a fuck about, through thick and thin.”
“You think it’s that simple?”
“I do.”
Considering this, I study the swell of his inflated cupid’s bow. “Then what does that make us?”
Lennox furrows his brow. “I don’t know. Probably not enemies.”
Don’t do it, Ripley.
But not even Holly’s whispered warning can stop me.
“How about allies?”
“Allies,” he repeats.
“What do you think?”
“I guess… I can work with that.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite manifesting into a smile. We’re still staring at each other. Suspended in this flux-like state between life and death, our worlds torn apart, and futures gone. There’s nothing left to fight for. We both lost.
“Do we have to like each other to do this?” Lennox murmurs.
My breathing halts as his lips near. Lennox holds my gaze until his mouth captures mine, then nothing else matters but the feel of his skin on mine. Only this time, he isn’t trying to hurt me. This isn’t a punishment.
It’s a surrender.
A white flag.
An abdication.
My mouth responds to his without being told. I don’t know when hatred transformed into the most acute sense of need, but I couldn’t care less. We’re facing the unknown together now. At the end of this road, I can accept Lennox Nash for the monster he is.
He pauses to let me answer.
“No,” I breathe. “We don’t have to like each other.”
“Then I guess… allies it is.”
His mouth returns to mine, hard and insistent. The man who tried his damndest to kill me is breathing life into my lungs, one kiss at a time. I’m trapped in hell with an enemy, and disaster has never felt so fucking good.
Lips parting, I let his tongue seek passage. He tastes like blood and rage. Hope and fear. The perplexing tale of a man capable of inflicting so much horror in the name of love. But to Lennox, that is love.
Not the half-baked version of love that normal people proclaim. Nothing quite so ordinary or pedestrian. This is a man who will maim and kill to protect those he’s deemed worthy of his care. Those lucky enough to be loved in the fiercest of ways.
Not even the intensifying shrieks around us disrupt the moment. While some anguished soul loses his mind, I hand mine over to the devil himself. Yet even the devil once danced with angels. Lennox’s evil matches mine.
For we were both forged in the same hell.
And we’ll both die here too.
Our kiss breaks at the sound of the cell door being unlocked. Lennox pulls me in close, going on high alert. Footsteps enter before Harrison’s sneering voice shatters the morning’s relative peace.
“Well, isn’t this cosy. Survived the night, I see.”
“Afraid so,” Lennox retorts.
“Dress, Ripley. We’re going for a walk.”
When Harrison stomps over to us, I catch a flash of a black weapon before it presses into the back of my head. It takes a moment for the metallic coldness to register.
“Now,” Harrisons says tersely. “I have permission to paint your brains across this cell if you disobey.”
There’s a gun nudging my skull. Not a baton. Nor a taser. It seems that not even Harrowdean’s false pretence of being a safe, law-abiding facility can survive the evil of the Z wing. We’ve all been stripped to our bare selves, guard and patient alike.
“Move, Ripley.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper to Lennox. “Let me go.”
“No,” he clips out.
“He’ll only shoot us both, Nox. Let go.”
His jaw set in an unyielding line, Lennox eventually surrenders me. My cuffed wrists held to my chest, I slither towards my discarded clothing, utterly humiliated by the show I’m putting on. Harrison doesn’t have the decency to look away as I locate the wet pile across the cell.
“What about me?” Lennox asks.
“You’re staying right here, lover boy. Professor Craven will be along shortly.”
My blood freezes solid as fear takes root.
“The professor doesn’t want to see me?”
“Oh, no. Sir Bancroft would prefer to deal with you himself.”
Something tells me I shouldn’t be relieved.
With Harrison’s leer still locked on me, I pick through the wet clothing. Panties first. He rolls his eyes while watching me struggle with my bra, stepping forward to unlock my handcuffs. The metal chafes my raw skin and rips scabs open as it moves.
“Ouchie.” Harrison grins.
I blink away tears. “Had worse.”
“We’ll see how long that bravery lasts.”
Gingerly putting on my bra, I pick up the mud-stained t-shirt to pull on next. Something dislodges from the sodden fabric and hits the floor. The flash of white card captures Harrison’s gaze.
“What is that?” he demands.
Terror lashes against my insides. “Nothing!”
“Up against the goddamn wall.”
With the gun trained on me, cocked and waiting to be unloaded, I have no choice but to slip the t-shirt on and inch away. Harrison keeps his weapon pointed at me as he squats down to retrieve the business card.
Amidst all the carnage, I forgot about stashing it in my bra yesterday. The guard didn’t notice when he stripped me off, far too preoccupied with being a sadistic overlord. That goddamn card has just stamped my death warrant.
“Sabre Security?” Harrison reads in disbelief.
“I d-don’t know… how that got there.”
Lennox looks between us, as shocked by the presence of the business card as Harrison is. I may as well have walked myself in front of a firing squad.
Stomping over to me, Harrison grabs my bicep. I struggle against him until he smashes the butt of his gun into my head. Excruciating pain flares through my skull, reigniting the wound from my last act of defiance.
The handcuffs are quickly snapped back in place while I’m still reeling. It’s taking all my self-control not to hurl on his freshly cleaned steel-capped weapons of mass destruction.
“Ripley!” Lennox shouts, still bare and bloodied as he finds his feet. “Don’t tell them shit.”
“Silence!” Harrison barks.
“Rip!”
The bleak acceptance in his pale-green gaze offers the most twisted form of comfort. Lennox knows what’s to come. I suppose I do as well. Those two words inscribed on the luxurious card have ensured my suffering.
Lennox shakes his head. A clear message.
Don’t let them win.
Harrison tows me from the cell, tugging on the metal chain connecting my cuffed wrists. Each yank causes lava to shoot through my veins. My mutilated skin is now bleeding again, pulsating with heat and pain.
I’m barely able to stand, let alone march down the seemingly endless corridor of cells. He drags me beyond the rooms I last saw, including Bancroft’s office, stopping outside another door.
“Good morning,” a cheerful voice greets.
Harrison glances over his shoulder. “Professor. Your new recruit is waiting for you in cell seven.”
Dressed in a pale-grey suit and white lab coat, Professor Craven nods in acknowledgement. His ebony eyes are lasered on me behind square-framed glasses.
“Pleasant sleep, Ripley?”
I glower at him. “Toasty.”
With a barked laugh, he sidles away. “I’ll pay your cellmate a visit, then. Please do join us later.”
I don’t have time to let my dread for Lennox spiral. With a quick scan, the door’s lock disengages, and Harrison unceremoniously shoves me inside the unfamiliar room.
“I just have to share your little misdemeanour with the boss. Please do enjoy the facilities in the meantime.”
“Wait, please…”
The steel door clanks shut, sealing me in yet another cell, though the walls are white-washed brick this time. It’s the sloshing of water and rasping laughter that causes me to tense up.
“Ain’t this a sight.”
I have the displeasure of knowing who that voice belongs to. Slowly turning around to face the room reveals the deathly pale, almost-blue face of a ghost.
Rick’s once olive-toned face is gaunt, his skin sagging and cheeks shallow. He looks half-dead. Starved, bruised and broken.
“You’re alive.”
“Am I?” He coughs.
The set-up causes my stomach to bottom out. It’s a room filled with rusted bathtubs, the four metal shells evenly spaced out and each equipped with shackles at the edges. Rick occupies the nearest one.
He’s restrained inside the tub, a black plastic sheet buttoned up to his neck so only his head is visible. From the freezing temperature in the room, I can quickly connect the dots.
Cold water immersion.
An old asylum favourite.
“Christ.” A wave of nausea has my mouth filling with saliva. “This is insane.”
“Tip of the iceberg.” His voice is weak and flimsy. “Didn’t think I’d see you down here. Your luck ran out, then.”
“Something like that.”
Rick’s eyes scan over me, taking in the multi-coloured bruises, swelling, deep lacerations and more. His attention catches on the portion of my scarred arm visible through the blood pouring from my wrists.
“How’s the brand?” he jokes lamely.
“Sitting pretty. How’s the friend?”
“Carlos is dead.”
“I hate to say I told you so, but look around you... No one survives this place.”
Rick’s eyes sink shut. “Then I’m glad you’re here.”
I’m tempted to dunk him beneath the water and hold him there for old time’s sake, but Harrison’s return scuppers that plan. His smile seems even wider than before. I cringe as I stand against the wall.
“Change of plan,” he singsongs. “We’re going to have a little chat while the boss gives your friend a call.”
“I don’t know anything about Sabre or that number,” I blurt out. “I never called them!”
“I couldn’t care less. Now, Rick here has been cooling down after his last bout of defiance. Shall we reward him with a show?”
I try to run, hoping to somehow duck past him, but I’m easily captured and plucked off my feet. Harrison tosses me like I’m little more than a trash bag to be discarded. My tailbone screams as I hit the floor and roll.
Striding after me, his playful expression evaporates. I hate knowing that Rick is watching as Harrison begins a violent campaign of kicks, punches and slaps to punctuate each deafening question.
“Who gave you the business card, Ripley?”
Kick .
“Answer me!”
Punch .
“Where did you get it from?”
Slap .
The pain is relentless. Blow after blow. Strike after strike. There isn’t a part of my body left untouched. Already bruised and battered skin feels like it’s ready to rupture and spill organs across the floor.
Harrison’s hand grips my chin to wrench me upright. His eyes are a curious blend of amber and chocolate-brown, like volcanic magma trapped beneath the earth’s crust. Rage sealed in nerve tissue and skin.
“Did you contact them? Promise to give those nosy bastards all the juicy details?”
“No,” I cry out.
“Lies.”
With a swift backhand, he drops me again. I collapse, too feeble to even spare our audience a glance.
“Not so loyal after all.” Harrison chuckles to himself. “Are you?”
“I’m l-loyal… to myself.” I spit out blood.
“So ungrateful. It’s a pity, all that wasted potential. But your loss is our gain.”
When he boots me in the face, the pain is too unbearable. Finally, my consciousness snaps as I black out. Eventually I come to again, finding Harrison now talking to a suit-clad pair of legs, visible through my unsteady vision.
My mind has turned to soup, but I can make out a few words. Enough to tell me that something is afoot. They sound tense, on-edge. Like troops perched on a hillside, preparing for enemy fire.
“Sabre… video sent… retaliation.”
“Phoenix?” a voice responds.
I recognise Bancroft’s regal tone.
“Tank,” Harrison answers.
“Fine.” Their footsteps are muffled. “And her?”
“Nothing, sir.”
I hear the shuffle of clothing before a hand strokes over my tangled hair. Peeking through tear-logged eyes, I look up at Bancroft. He’s crouched beside me, darkness filtered across his aged features.
“All empires fall, Ripley,” he croons softly. “But not this one.”
“I d-didn’t… The number….”
“Hush, dearest.” I want to recoil when he pets me like a dog, but I’m too weak. “It’s no matter. They’re coming for us regardless now.” Bancroft smiles shrewdly. “We have their plaything.”
Their… plaything?
“I’m still mightily disappointed in you, Ripley.” He sighs dramatically. “After all I’ve done for you. But it’s no matter, your uncle already issued his consent. You’re ours to repurpose now.”
Desperation barely registers.
“Please.” My whisper comes out frail and paltry.
“It’s a little late to plead for your life, isn’t it?” He tuts under his breath. “You should’ve thought of that before you betrayed us. I do hate disloyalty.”
Straightening to his full height, Bancroft smooths a hand down his front. He casts a critical eye around the room, taking each iteration of horror in.
“Your friend Rick here is learning his own lesson about not sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. But I think we have something more suitable for your level of transgression.”
“Sir?” Harrison prompts.
“I believe Professor Craven requested both Ripley and Lennox. Let him have his fun. I am sure she’ll be returned as a clean slate, ready for sale.”
I groggily watch Harrison unleash a grin. “As you wish, sir.”
Bancroft casts me a final look of disappointment. “Goodbye, Ripley.”
This time, I’m a lifeless flop in Harrison’s arms. I don’t even have the energy to acknowledge Rick as we exit. My head lolls, the steady patter of blood dripping from multiple lacerations leaving a trail behind us.
Flashing in and out of consciousness, I startle when the clank of a metal door opening permeates my mind fog. We’re in yet another cell. The scent of spilled blood rushes up to meet me, so thick and cloying it makes me gag.
“Ah.” Craven’s voice is a featherlight tenor. “Right on time.”