Chapter 4
4
Sonny
T he darkness buzzes around me like a sentient being. There have been times it felt so thick—so present —I swore I could reach out and run my fingers over it.
And the silence . . .
The endless, screaming silence.
It warps all sense of time and perception.
I’m losing touch with reality. My mind is a torture chamber. My thoughts are weapons. And I’m trapped inside of it with no escape. No outlet.
There is nothing quite like being forced to sit with yourself and just feel . To think of every fucking thing you’ve ever done wrong. Every action that led to this moment.
To experience everything and nothing, all at once.
Staring death in the face has reduced my old priorities to nothing.
My anger has fizzled down to nothing more than a softly burning ember. The generational rage that ignited my entire being before no longer has the energy to feed it, and all of this feels so inconsequential. Pointless.
They don’t feed me on any set schedule. Whatever they do bring is usually something small and tasteless—likely something from the cafeteria that no one wants. It’s always brought in when I’m asleep and I don’t notice until I trip over the plate on my way to the waste can—something I’ve used less as my body desperately absorbs any nutrients given to it.
I’ve essentially become one with the wooden planks I call a bed. What’s the point of getting up? Of working out or walking around? It’ll only use energy I don’t have and force me into fatigue.
“Wake up,” a familiar voice rushes out, startling me out of a dreamless slumber. I hadn’t even heard her make her way down. “Sonny, so help me God, if you’re ignoring me just to make me feel like a fool—” She cuts herself off.
I sit up in my makeshift bed and try to peer through the bars in my door. Of course, I can’t. The bars aren’t even visible from here.
Nothing but pitch black.
Why hasn’t she used a light?
“ Sonny ,” she hisses again.
“Divina?” I ask, my voice nothing more than a raspy croak from lack of fluids.
This has to be a hallucination. Some trick my mind is playing on me after so much time in nothingness .
She sighs, and I can sense the irritation wafting off her in waves. I certainly have that sound down in my mind. “What have you been doing in there? Ignoring me?”
Anger quickly bubbles into my chest. Who the hell does this imaginary person think she is? As if she has any right to be angry with me for sleeping .
“What do you want?” I say each word with equal venom. She put me here. She let them lock me away in this fucking dungeon for crimes I haven’t even committed.
My own family.
“I don’t have a lot of time, so you need to listen to me carefully...”
“Doesn’t seem like I have a choice either way, now does it?” I scoff.
She ignores the snarky response. “They’re going to try to offer you a deal in exchange for your freedom,” she rushes out. “They’ll promise you something impossible. Something they’ll never be able to deliver. You can’t take it, Sonny.”
“Why wouldn’t I? No one else is coming to my rescue.” The accusation is clear in my voice.
“This isn’t the rescue you think it is. You have to promise me, Sonnet.” The use of my full name has a brand new wave of angry flames burning through my body. A hurricane of embers that light their way to my core.
How dare she speak the name she mocked for years?
How dare she ask me to promise her anything ?
How fucking dare she ask me not to take my only shot out of here?
“Get out of here,” I growl, my voice low and feral.
When I get out of this hell, she’ll be the first person I come after. The first victim hunted down like prey to pay the price for centuries-worth of rage. There will be no fucking mercy for what she’s done.
Her words come out in rapid-fire, faster than I’ve ever heard her speak. “You have no reason to trust me. I know that. But please, Sonny. Do it for your mother. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t fall for any of it.”
My mother ?!
“Get out. Get out ! Get OUT!” I scream, my voice raising to a harsh, broken timbre that echoes back into my ears until they ring. I cover them, squeezing my eyes shut and repeating the command. I hear her try to talk over me between breaths, but refuse to listen any more.
I refuse to take her abuse any longer.
I stay like that for a while, curled into a ball with my arms over my head. So long, my muscles stiffen in the position.
Once I settle back down, my ears ring louder against the silence. I can’t hear or sense her any longer. I hope that by some small mercy, she’s left me alone.
“You should have listened to her,” a new voice startles me.
This one sounds closer. Possibly inside my cell.
I spin around in a circle. Searching for what? Who even knows? Someone could be standing an inch away, and I wouldn’t know.
“Who’s there?” I call out into the black abyss.
“You can lower your voice,” the intruder replies agitatedly. Then I see a flash of something in the corner across from where I stand. “I’m right here.”
An apparition appears, casting a soft glow onto the stone walls and floor.
I gasp, my hand slapping over my mouth as I openly gawk at what’s standing before me. Or rather, who .
An aged up version of Finley Landry stares back expectantly. “She was trying to help you,” he finally says.
“You’re Finley,” I stupidly inform him.
“I prefer Fin,” he corrects in that odd accent I remember from the visions in the woods.
“You’re dead.”
He winces. “I mean, I’d like to think I’m living on rather well. And that’s no way to speak to your grandfather.” A finger jabs toward me in warning.
I’ve officially lost it. There’s no way I can see him here. No way he can talk to me. That’s not how my gifts work. I can only see memories—things that have already happened and I play no part in.
He doesn’t bother waiting for me to respond. Instead, he strides closer toward me, running his fingers along the wall as he passes. His upper lip lifts in disgust at the grime that transfers onto his ghostly fingers. “Your aunt was onto something. Never trust the Midnight Syndicate.”
“I doubt my aunt was even here. Her visit was probably just as real as yours,” I dismiss.
He places his hand over his heart in mock offense. “I’m real . And you’re in a foul mood.”
“Of course I am!” I shout, ignoring the wave of embarrassment that washes over me at the prospect that someone might hear me talking to myself like a madwoman.
“Well, shake it off,” he shouts back while shimmying with his shoulders. “We’ve got a lot to discuss, and I’d rather not do it with an ill-tempered grump.”
My jaw pops open. “You can’t insult me. You’re a part of my imagination.”
“Is that so? Then, how am I able to tell you how horrid you look?” he berates, giving me a once-over.
I could swear my eyes nearly fall out of their sockets with how wide I’m staring back at him. What the hell kind of upside down world have I landed in?
He doesn’t give me any time to recover. Instead, he snaps his fingers in my face and says, “You wanted to speak with me, and now I’m here. Let’s not waste any more time. The leaders of the Midnight Syndicate are debating the value of your life right now.”