Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
brYN
The yawning emptiness inside me is all too reminiscent of my time in Wargate.
I sit on the cold, damp floor next to my siblings, Milo and I each with an arm wrapped around Zara as we huddle against the only solid wall in the cell and try to hold ourselves together through the searing agony.
It’s exactly as I guessed—there’s a ward here just like the one around the prison.
Our dragon sides are missing and along with them, all the abilities that protect us.
I’d pushed my memories of this feeling away, stuffed in a box at the back of my mind, never to be revisited. Yet this feels like my first day in Wargate all over again, when the ragged chasm felt so immense I didn’t think I’d ever recover.
Within hours, someone had offered me drugs. It was the only way many of the inmates coped. I never took anything, mainly because those who did were so addicted and dead-eyed that it seemed worse than the pain. My dragon is who I am, who I was born as. I never wanted to numb myself to that.
My sister’s body shakes with the force of her sobs. Milo is trembling and glaring at the concrete floor.
The other five cells are occupied just as Ember showed me on her phone, with one occupant in each. We’re in the last cell in the row, and with nothing but bars between us, I can see the state of each person.
The fox shifter was the first to go missing around three months ago. I’m guessing he’s the small redhead in the furthest cell. He cowers in the corner, shivering, his hair lying in matted strands in front of his face.
The smell in here is extremely pungent and none of them look particularly well fed.
Even Jay in the cell adjacent to ours looks like he’s lost weight, his clothes hanging loosely on his frame after being down here for several weeks.
He stares at the steady drip of water in the corridor outside the cells, his eyes more alert than those of the others.
Val, who has petite features and a wiry strength, is in the cell next to Jay. She has dried tear tracks down her dirty face, her vacant eyes show no glimmer of recognition when she looks at me, and she’s tapping her fingers rhythmically on her legs.
Next to Val is a woman with dirty blonde hair hanging in greasy clumps. Her head is tilted at an odd angle, her green eyes staring at me with an emptiness that’s haunting.
The remaining cell houses a tufty-haired person splayed out on the floor. Their chest is rising and falling rhythmically, their eyes closed, with skin so pale I’d be concerned for their continued aliveness if it weren’t for their regular breathing.
‘You shouldn’t have let them bring you here,’ Milo signs with jerky hands, his glare now directed at me. ‘You should have gotten help.’
I let go of Zara to reply, my hands shaking. ‘I wasn’t going to let them hurt either of you while I tried to figure out where you were being held. It’s me Lance wants.’
Milo’s hand movements get wilder. ‘But by coming here, you’re just playing into his hands! How is anyone supposed to find us now? You should have contacted the task force.’
I look away, my heart aching. Could Milo be right? He doesn’t know that Dhiren is actually Raj, and that I’ve been working with the task force all this time, but should I have gotten away from Aire and Ember instead of allowing myself to be captured?
There’s no way to be sure what the right move was. I just hope Raj or one of his pack have found my message and I’ve not fucked this up completely.
Either way, I’ll get us all out of here. Somehow.
Zara lifts her tear-stained face. ‘Did you have to deal with this pain every day? In prison, I mean.’
I hesitate, then nod. ‘Twenty-four seven. There was no reprieve.’
There’s a flash of fresh agony in her eyes before her jaw hardens. She dries her tears and wipes her nose with her sleeve. ‘Lance needs to pay for what he’s done to us.’
I lean my head back against the concrete wall. ‘This is bigger than just Lance.’
Before the conversation can continue, both my siblings look over at Jay.
Milo switches to SimCom, his eyes narrowed. ‘Two of us are hearing.’
I reposition myself so that I can more easily see Milo, Zara, and Jay at the same time.
Jay says something and Milo glances at me, eyes still hard. ‘Want me to interpret?’
‘Yes. Please.’
I know Milo’s not happy with me, but we can at least chat to Jay and find out as much as possible. It’s what Raj would do, and perhaps Jay has information that’ll help us come up with an escape plan.
‘Why do they want us?’ I ask.
Jay’s lip curls. “Some sort of fucked-up experiments. Not sure why they want all three of you, though.”
So it’s exactly as we thought: Far Out Freight has been kidnapping shifters and using them to test weapons on. No wonder they all look so traumatised.
‘What kind of experiments?’ Milo asks.
I’d prefer Zara never find out the answer to that question, but it’s too late to take it back.
“You think your other half is gone right now? Wait until they try to rip it from you completely.” Jay jerks his head towards the other shifters. “They come day after day until you end up like that.”
My blood runs cold. Have they been developing a weaponised version of this ward? The mere idea that they’re trying to make the effects permanent is horrifying on a level that’s devastating to comprehend.
Before any of us can respond, the door at the far end of the corridor outside the cells opens.
Lance strides in, his glamour removed to show his pointed ears and stationary wings.
He should still be in a holding cell in the neutral zone, although I’m not surprised that his solicitor managed to get him out already.
Hopefully that means Raj has tried to contact me by now and realised something’s wrong.
Of course, it’s possible he won’t see my message so won’t know where to find us.
Even if he does, my words may have been too cryptic—I didn’t know the cells were beneath the warehouse until I arrived and was marched down here.
Lance reaches our cell, a new manic gleam in his eyes. ‘It’s fitting that you will enable the final phase.’
The chill in my veins intensifies. Their new weapon must be nearly ready.
Shit. I have to stop them, have to prevent its completion somehow. Even my extremely capable tiger and his pack of warriors might be defenceless against it, so I need to do whatever it takes to make sure they can do their jobs when they locate us.
I cling onto the certainty that they will find us.
I get to my feet, clenching my jaw against the pain. As crippling as being without my dragon is, I survived three years like this. I can do it again.
‘The final phase of what?’ I ask, hoping he’ll confirm my theory.
My siblings get to their feet as well, both of them glaring at Lance as Milo helps an unsteady Zara. Once standing, she shakes off his hand.
Lance smirks. ‘A plan so grand it is beyond your comprehension. Suffice it to say, three dragons are more than enough for our needs.’
It’s not one hundred percent confirmation, but it’s likely all I’ll get. My body buzzes with the need to do something, to find and destroy this weapon before it’s too late.
Lance’s attention locks onto Zara. ‘Now, shall we start with the failed soldier?’
Milo and I immediately step in front of her, blocking her from view. ‘I don’t think so,’ Milo signs with sharp movements.
‘Don’t even think about touching her,’ I sign just as fiercely, my gut tightening.
She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes hard, so I step to the left enough that she can see.
‘Such a disappointment,’ Lance signs with careless hand movements, watching her. She flips him off, a fiery hatred in her eyes. He smirks and turns his attention to me. ‘In that case, let’s use you.’
The handcuffs he pulls from his pocket are the same style of supernatural-grade restraints used in Wargate. They’re one of several layers of confinement in place in addition to the ward.
Since getting out of this cell is the first step in destroying their prototype weapon and escaping, I step forward.
Milo blocks me, his expression fierce. ‘No. I’ll go.’
‘There’s no point,’ I sign with a firm shake of my head. ‘He has no personal issue with you. You could go with him, come back in the same state as the others, and he’ll still take me and do the same next. Try to find a way out instead, okay?’
I move towards the cell door but Milo shoves me back, eyes blazing. ‘He’ll hurt you worse than anyone else; you know that. Whatever these fucking experiments are, he’ll repeat them until your dragon is gone forever or you’re dead, and then what? I don’t want to be without my brother again!’
My heart breaks at the fear hiding in his furious eyes. I understand why he’s scared for me, but there really isn’t another choice. ‘Please, Milo. I’ll need you when they bring me back.’
If they bring me back, that is. He’s right to fear my death, because unlike all the other earth shifter species, who are born in the same way as human babies, we hatch in our winged form. There’s a very real chance I won’t survive having my dragon permanently ripped from me.
I just have to stop Lance before that happens. I refuse to accept that I might never see my treasure or my siblings again.
Milo steps aside, his glare sharp on Lance, tension in his frame like he’s gearing up for a fight.
Lance just looks amused as he reaches through the bars to fit the handcuffs to my wrists. His wings begin to shimmer as he readies his magic, then he unlocks the cell door with his hand outstretched towards Zara while he says something.
It’s a familiar tactic, one the prison guards used whenever they had to be in the same space as us. Fae magic isn’t affected by the ward, so they’d hit us with a spell if we stepped out of line. Without our supernatural abilities, the spells impacted us as severely as if we were human.
I shake my head at Milo, urging him not to try anything. He steps in front of Zara, body quivering, but stays where he is as Lance relocks the cell behind me.
Lance immediately unleashes his magic on me, trapping my arms against my torso with ugly black vines, their sharp thorns piercing my skin viciously.
I suck in a sharp breath but make sure to not react to the pain in any other way, despite the blood trickling down my chest. I refuse to give Lance the satisfaction, and shake my head at Milo and Zara who are now at the front of the cell, their hands moving wildly as they threaten all sorts of things they’ll do to Lance for hurting me.
Lance smirks but otherwise ignores them.
Every step along the corridor sends a painful vibration through the ragged edges of where my dragon should be.
I’ve had a lot of practice at never showing weakness though, so I walk calmly in front of my captor, turning down another corridor when he pushes me in that direction.
There’s nothing but concrete walls broken by the occasional plain white door until we reach a doorway to a heavily warded room, Lance’s muddy brown magic in evidence in the ward layers. He shoves me through the open door.
I stop dead at the sight that greets me.
It’s a lab setup, including a stretcher complete with leather straps etched with runes, a steel trolley covered in syringes full of a translucent yellowish liquid, and an array of screens hooked up to three different computers.
There are thick cables on a table with sticky pads on one end, the other ends disappearing into the nearest wall.
But the thing that steals the breath from my lungs is the man standing next to the syringes.
Nyoka Muroyi, the former head of the task force and notorious serial killer.
There’s a crazed gleam in his eyes, his greying hair forms a huge afro, and he has a white lab coat on over the grey joggers and jumper that make up standard BSG prison-issue clothing.
His presence lends a whole new perspective.
Raj was always concerned that Nyoka was working with Far Out Freight, but it was past tense.
It didn’t occur to us that they could still be collaborating with the mage after his conviction and the subsequent stripping of his magic.
We naively assumed he was in the prison he was sent to.
Lance shoves me towards the stretcher. I stumble and take the opportunity to catch the trolley with my foot, sending the syringes flying. He tightens the vines around me, squeezing until the razor-sharp thorns have my back arching with the pain, blood now running freely from the puncture wounds.
I gasp and barely keep my feet. Shit, I have to stop them, but I can’t do that when I’m restrained like this. I’m already weakening from the blood loss, and without my dragon side my supernatural healing won’t kick in.
I need my dragon more than I ever have in my life.
I search internally, finding the edges of the jagged void and tracing them with my mind.
I always shied away from it when I was in Wargate, unable to bear examining it too closely, but my dragon is the original me.
I refuse to believe that I can’t reach him.
I search, sending my mind deeper as Lance manoeuvres me onto the stretcher.
He unlocks the handcuffs and uses additional vines to move my wrists where he wants them.
It doesn’t matter how much I try to fight against them, he’s still able to shackle my wrists and ankles using the runed leather straps before connecting the cables to my bare chest with the sticky pads.
I should have spent more time reconnecting with my dragon. If I had, maybe I’d be able to find him now, but as the cables start to wrench something vital from my body—a part of me that I immediately know I won’t survive without—I realise I might not reach him before it’s too late.
I ignore the searing agony. Deep inside my mind I picture Raj, the one person my dragon has never failed to respond to.
My tiger, my treasure, the man I love, with his attempts to hide his amusement at my terrible kitchen skills, his frustration every time he goes to run his fingers through his hair only for it to be too short, and his intense determination to never let people down.
I can’t let Lance and Nyoka kill me. I have to get back to my treasure. I want to bond with him and spend the rest of our lives together.
I’m not ready for life to be over. There’s too much to live for.
My dragon surges.
My nails turn into talons.