Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
brETT
“So do we have a plan?” I ask, staring in awe at the massive gold-hued skyscraper. I’ve driven by this building hundreds of times on the way to work, and I never would have assumed something so sinister was going on within its walls. I guess there really is some sense to the whole “hiding in plain sight” thing.
Orion cuts his gaze to me, his shoulders shrugging in answer to my question. “I mean… the best thing I could come up with is just… fuck it.”
“Fuck it… alright.” I sigh, unbuckling my seat belt. “Let’s go with it.”
Orion and I jump from the truck, Rupert following close at our heels and searching for threats. The walk to the back alley is eerily quiet, but when we come to the secret back entrance Orion told me about, I nearly vomit as the metallic tang of blood and death smacks me in the face.
Four masked bodies lie lifeless in the alley—three by the hatch and one by the dumpster. All gruesome and bloody. I try to keep my eyes forward, keep my focus on getting to that hatch, but all that goes out the window when Orion races over to one of the bodies.
Orion crouches by the masked man’s shoulder, his shoulders quaking. “Oh my God… Steve? Aw, fuck. No. Noooo. Fuck, man,” he moans, cupping his face in his hands. A surge of awkwardness lights my veins as I pat the boy on the shoulder, which only seems to worsen his woes.
“I’m so sorry. Were you two… close?”
Orion looks up, his brows scrunched together, and zero sign of the tears I thought would be streaming down his cheeks. “What? No! The asshole owed me money. Now I’m never going to get that fifty buck…” he grumbles, standing and dusting off his shirt before casually strutting toward the hatch.
“What?” he asks, his steps halting when he realizes I’m not following. “Something wrong?”
Fucking lunatics. All of them. I shake my head, stumbling after him into the dark hatch. Rupert lags to sniff at one of the corpses, and I nearly pass out when his tongue darts across the bloodied white mask—as if he’s testing if the man is really dead.
“Rupert! Get the fuck away from that!” A large blue eye pierces me through the shadows, a few seconds passing before he decides to follow my orders. “Thank God,” I grumble. Rushing after Orion, who’s already halfway through the small hatch at the base of the building.
“How do you know about this place?” I whisper, fighting the urge to run my fingertips along the golden walls of the long—hallway?—we’re racing through.
“Ghost mentioned it once. Watch your step,” Orion whispers, veering left and racing toward an uncompromising-looking door at the end of the short corridor. “After you, love,” he murmurs, shoving me through the opened door and up a flight of wrought-iron stairs.
A gentle tink breaks the silence as a bullet dislodges, smacking a lower stair in its tumble to the ground, and for the first time, I let myself wonder what I’ll do if Ghost is actually dead .
“Orion?”
“Mhm?”
“Is it weird that we haven’t heard anything? Like, don’t you think we’d hear gunshots or something?”
Orion shrugs, gripping my elbow and hurrying me toward the landing. “Maybe everyone’s dead.”
Maybe Ghost is, too… I shake my head, deciding not to think of that as a possibility. Instead, I try to focus on the various hallways and staircases we pass through, trying not to grow despondent by the amount of death we pass by. But there’s just so much of it, and I can’t help letting my mind wander to that dark little corner shoved all the way in the back. And then I start losing a grip on my control. I start thinking about morbid things—things like, how could Ghost still be alive after all this? How could any of them?
By the time we reach the top, I’ve completely lost track of how many stairs we’ve raced up—how many hallways we’ve traveled through. The roaring fire in my thighs tells me it must be in the hundreds, but I don’t care enough to ask. All I want—all I’m consumed with—is getting to Ghost.
Alive or dead.
Shell casings crunch under my heels as I climb, and when we get about halfway up, I realize why we haven’t heard any gunshots. So much blood and carnage stains the way, it causes my stomach to turn. Bodies litter the stairwell like a trail of breadcrumbs, and Orion has to lead me by the elbow until we make it onto a bare, steel landing. There's another iron door with a hole where a handle should be, as well as spatters of blood along the rim alluding to what’s in store for me on the other side. More death. More blood.
The increasing probability that one of these lifeless, bloody bodies will end up being Ghost. I shake my head to cast the thought away, giving it a new home in the air of these hallowed halls. That type of thinking is better suited to die here, at home with all the other nightmares this building covets.
We step through the door into yet another golden hallway, lined with even more splayed, lifeless men. Some have masks the color of arterial blood—such a dark, rich shade of red contrasting ironically with the snow-colored masks of the others. That smell of rot is heavy in this hallway, and I have to breathe through my nose as I step over the countless bodies so I don’t lose my lunch.
I do, however, lose myself to my thoughts as Orion leads me through countless hallways, up hundreds—no, thousands—of stairs, to the point where my legs become numb from the strain .
It’s only when Orion tugs at my arm that I know we’ve finally made it to the top. He pries open the metal door ever so slightly, peeking around the door for potential threats. After a moment, he pushes through the door and into—yes, another—long hallway. Although, unlike the glowing gold of the others, the walls of this hallway seem to be lined with luxurious red velvet. Only, when I run my fingers along them, it feels like stone.
They’re bare, save for nine gold-rimmed portraits spanning the length of the right-hand side of the hallway. I step up to the one closest me, a small gasp falling from my lips as I take in the gruesome depiction.
My eyes are drawn to the disfigured bodies lining the foreground of the cavernous scene, several of them lying smashed and battered against the rocks. But the sight pales in comparison to the great winged beast emerging from the shadows, clawed hands wrapped greedily around a bloody, headless body.
The ninth circle of Hell: Treachery.
Goose bumps run across my arms, but try as I might, I can’t pull my eyes away from the picture. That is, until Orion pulls at my elbow, breaking my trance .
“Come on. We’re almost there,” he whispers, pulling me down the rest of the long red hallway. I carefully step over the bodies of the white-masked Reapers lying in the center of the floor, holding my breath so as not to breathe in the smell of death.
“Okay…” I whisper, trying to keep my eyes off the eight other pictures of hell we pass. Although none of them are quite as terrifying as that first one, each time I catch sight of a fucked-up depiction, my skin crawls.
When we make it to the end of the passage, there’s a square hole in the wall, almost like the secret stone doorways to Ghost’s house. Orion and I exchange glances before rushing inside, nary a thought for either of our well-being.
A maze of corridors ensues, twisting and turning in such a way that makes me dizzy. Just when I think the horrible tunnel of doom will never end, I catch a tiny dot of light at the end of the passage we’re currently racing down.
“Orion! We’re almost there!” I say, willing my legs to move faster toward that growing blip of hope. The same hope that stutters in my chest when we come across a heap of bloody, lifeless masked men. The angle of their bodies partially blocks the way, and we have to physically climb over them to make it the rest of the way.
My heart soars when we make it to the other side, only to be dashed on the cold stone walls when I make out two familiar, slumped figures toward the tunnels exit.
“Kain?” I whisper. When nothing answers, I clear my throat and dare a louder pitch. “Kain?”
One of the figures stirs, appearing to be trying to stand, and I race toward them before Orion has a chance to hold me back. The closer I get, the more I recognize the brutal panes of Kain’s masked face, his one good eye squinted in pain as he clutches his ribs on the left side of his body.
“Kain! Where’s Ghost?” I ask, crouching to shove a hand into his chest, forcing him to relax.
“I’m great, thanks for asking.” He lobs his famous glare my way, only for it to be replaced with a look of concern a heartbeat later. “You just missed him. He’s in there,” he murmurs, pointing a blood-caked index finger toward the large slab of metal at the passageway’s exit. “You can’t—can’t get in there. I tried,” he says, a rattling breath interrupting his sentence. The left half of his face scrunches in pain as he tries to sit up, and I shove him back down once more .
“I believe you,” I say, turning my desperate look onto Orion. “What do we do?”
Orion opens his mouth to speak when a horrible, rattling cough fills the air. Our gazes jerk to the other figure, nearly invisible with the way he’s curled in the fetal position at Kain’s hip.
“Oh, yeah. Mav’s dying.” Kain shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Meanwhile, my heart feels like it’s about to thump its way out of my mouth.
Orion is the first to move, stepping over and crouching by Maverick’s head. “I mean… he doesn’t look great.”
“I-it was… ne—necessary,” Maverick says, his voice cutting in and out due to his damaged voice box. With a shuddering sigh, he rips the mask from his face, only to let his arm drop limply to the pavement a moment later, the cracked black mask clutched tightly between his fingers.
“ Brett. You look so much like your mother.”
My chest seizes at the voice—so much older than I had imagined. So much pain lacing his tone, it causes a shiver to run the length of my spine. His eyes are the deepest brown I’ve ever seen—pools of molten chocolate that pair elegantly with the flecks of gold surrounding his iris. Though bloodied and raw, I can still tell he carries those raw masculine features most women find attractive. In another world, I could see my mom and him together, arm in arm strolling through the park. Perhaps if she had picked him, things would have turned out differently.
“I loved her, you know,” he whispers, struggling with the words like he’s struggling for air. “I love…loved?—”
“I know,” I whisper, reaching a hand out and placing it on his. “I know you do. Even now, I know.”
“She deserved so much—so much better than she got. I just want you to have a chance at the things she didn’t. It’s why I agreed to help…” His sentence cuts off as he dissolves into a coughing fit, and I retract my hand as he cradles his to his oozing, bloodied chest. “It was supposed to happen this way. I would not have died for a less noble cause, Brett Evangeline.”
Piercing brown eyes capture mine, stealing all the breath from my lungs with the intensity swirling there. And though I’m sure it takes the last of his strength, Maverick's voice remains strong as he utters one last order.
“Make sure it was worth it.”
A wheeze sounds out, the last of his life leaving in a shuddering exhale, and Maverick's head falls to the floor, his eyes still half-open and staring at nothing.
“Well, fuck.”
I blink at Kain, something in my chest splintering at the sight of his indifferent expression. Just like with Ghost, I wonder what a person has to go through to make them so detached to the sight of death. I barely knew Maverick, yet it feels like holes are peppering my soul knowing that a life has just ended.
But I can’t think about that right now. I have to keep going. Swallowing hard, I tug Orion’s elbow and race to the end of the tunnel, only to find that Kain was right. There’s a giant slab of metal, where a door should be, concealing the entrance to Madam's chambers. I slam my palm to the wall in frustration, tears welling in the corners of my eyes. I look wildly around the space for something—anything—that could be used to unlock the door.
“Kain was right. There’s no way in,” I whisper, fighting the urge to claw at the stone till my fingers are bloodied. “Orion, what do we do? ”
He shakes his head, shaggy black bangs falling over his squinted eyes as he inspects the metal wall. “ I don’t know. There’s no fucking way we’re getting through this thing.”
The alarm fades to the background as my heart beats in my ears, an infuriated scream tearing from my lips as I lob a kick at the wall. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” I press my forehead against the cool metal, an idea forming in the back of my mind, trying to break through the cloud of desperation.
“Orion? Does this place have some kind of guard house?”
Orion turns, his brows drawn together as he thinks. “Maybe? It would make sense. We came through the service entrance, but I assume the main lobby has something like that… Oh!” he exclaims, a smile spreading his lips. “You think…?”
I nod, trying not to let my hopes get too high. “I think we can access the security panel from there. If you can disarm the system somehow?—-”
“Already on it!” Orion calls out, his voice fading as he disappears into the tunnel, leaping over the fallen bodies in his haste. “Stay there! I’ll be back in a….”
I don’t get to hear what else Orion was going to say as his voice gets swallowed by the maze of tunnels. With nothing else to do, I stalk back into the tunnel with Rupert to check on Kain, my hand twitching nervously over the handle of my gun.
As I near, Kain meets my gaze, his dark brown eye holding a coldness that's contrary to the way I’ve seen him look at Lillith, and I can’t help but question which is the real Kain.
“You and Orion figure something out?”
I nod, reaching down to run my fingers through Ruper’s silky fur, hoping it will calm my nerves. “Hopefully.”
Kain stares at the wall over my shoulder, seeming to be focusing on his breathing. “I’d offer you this, but…” his great chest heaves a sigh as he waves his empty gun in the air. “All out of bullets.”
“That’s—that’s okay,” I murmur, shooting a nervous glance down the tunnel and praying for Orion to hurry up. “Are you… gonna be okay?”
He shrugs, wincing slightly as he adjusts his grip on his ribs, causing fresh red blood to pool through his scarred fingers. “Probably. I’ve survived worse.”
I try not to look at Maverick’s broken body lying next to him and wonder if he will suffer the same fate. There’s already been so much loss today, and I don’t know how much more I can take.
“You know Lillith will never forgive me if you die,” I whisper, straightening when I’m sure he’s not going to try to follow. “So don’t. Okay?”
“You?” He chuckles weakly, some of the ice melting in his gaze at the mention of his love. “She’d never forgive me. Hell, I’m pretty sure she’d follow me to the dark just to whoop my ass for leaving her. She seems sweet and innocent, but the woman is downright vicious.”
A small smile tips my lips despite the tears welling in my eyes. “You really love her, don’t you?”
He nods, his eye glazing over with some unspoken memory. “More than life itself.” Suddenly, he faces me, his gaze telling me all the words he doesn’t speak. “Just like you do Ghost.”
I open my mouth to disagree, but Kain’s knowing squint has the words dying in my throat. “He needs you, Brett. He needs you to save him from himself. I couldn’t—hell, now that I’m sitting here, I realize I never even tried. But you did. You are. You don’t give up on him, even when he’s given up on himself. I’ve never seen him so passionate, so…” He looks off again, lost for the words he needs to describe the change in the masked assassin. “He’s doing this for you, you know? He doesn’t think this world deserves you—doesn’t think he does. What he’s doing now—he thinks he’s removing every rotten thing from the earth to make it better for you. He’s sacrificing himself because he views himself as one of those things.”
“How do you?—?”
“Because it’s how I used to feel when I first met Lillith,” he murmurs, his gaze softening with a faraway look. “I wanted to burn the world down, even if it meant I forfeited my life. For her, I would have done anything. But she showed me that you can’t force the world to its knees—instead, you must let go. More importantly, she taught me that the best things bloom when given the freedom to do so…”
A long pause ensues as Kain peers up at me through a drooping eyelid, his chest heaving erratically as he finishes with, “But that was advice for me. Not for that masked maniac on the other side of the door.”
I choke on my surprise, but Kain continues undeterred, giving no reaction other than a slight lift in his brow. “Ghost views things in extremes. To him, letting go means death—not so different from what he’s trying to do now. He can’t see any other way to protect you.”
“But that’s… fucking insane.”
“He is insane,” Kain mutters, chuckling low under his breath. “He’s always been insane, Brett. And I’ll bet money that’s part of the reason you love him so much. Because you know you’ll never find that kind of devotion in another human being.”
I shake my head, even as his words drill into that little space in my heart I keep locked in an iron vault. The bastard is right, and I know it in every part of me. Ghost has bound himself to me in a way I can’t describe—like there’s a thread of light knitting our souls together, weaving the threads of our beings in a way that seems predestined by fate.
I look desperately toward the metal wall as if will alone could make it rise. I don’t know how the fuck Orion is going to find the main lobby or how long it will take, but I pray it’s soon.
I’m opening my mouth to respond to Kain when the alarm cuts off mid-wail, causing my words to die in my chest. I stare wide-eyed at the metal wall, waiting for something—anything—to let me know Orion was successful. For a moment, I think the plan failed, but then, a screech fills the small space, and the wall starts sliding up.
I jerk my gaze to Kain, who nods, reaching into his pocket and placing a bloodied silver dagger in my palm. “Go save the bastard, Brett.”
Tears fill my vision as I palm the dagger, not having the time to wipe them away as I race down the tunnel with Rupert hot at my heels. We come to a halt inches away, and I gaze down at the lower half of a glowing gold door, bouncing on my toes as I wait for the wall to raise enough to expose the handle. The seconds feel like hours, but eventually, the wall rises enough for me to wrap my hand around the golden knob.
Crouching down to Rupert’s level to squeeze under the metal gate, I throw the door open, a powerful wail piercing my ears as soon as the barrier is removed. The noise is so powerful and full of dismay that it reverberates to the marrow of my bones.
From my position, I can only see a woman sitting in the middle of an elaborate circular sitting room, the entire space cast in the most expensive gold-veined marble I’ve ever seen.
The woman herself looks like an installment in the room. Elaborate golden robes hang from her body flow to the floor in a shimmering golden pool, the color clashing brilliantly against her ivory venetian mask. The intricately carved headpiece covers the entirety of her face and hair, the only thing visible being a set of cold green eyes peeking through the diamond-lined eye slits .
“MURDERER!” she screams, pointing a shaking finger at something I can’t see past the doorframe. “MURDERER!”
Without thinking, I charge into the room with Rupert at my heels, taking stock of the situation with a single glance. Twelve men stand in a circle around the Madam, their wide eyes barely visible through the slits in their gold bird-beaked masks. In the commotion, no one’s realized I’ve entered the room—too busy staring at the thing in the corner to notice.
And that thing is Ghost, crouched over the body of a slain snow-white tiger. Wait— a fucking tiger? My mouth falls as I take in the sight, shock replacing all the fear flowing in my veins. And it’s not just me—the older, important-looking men in the bird masks look truly paralyzed at the sight.
Ghost raises his head, his body jerking as his eyes meet mine. A wave of electricity flows through me, tickling my scalp as the rest of the world fades, and it’s just the two of us in this room.
“ Brett…” he breathes, seeming to lose focus as he stands on wobbly legs, leaving his dagger lodged in the beast. “ Darling Brett…”
From the corner of my eye, I see another tiger. Except this one is very much alive and very much about to launch itself toward Ghost. I charge forward at the same time the beast lowers to the ground, its powerful muscles tensing in preparation to launch.
And I know—even as I raise my dagger, even as Ghost finally looks away from me, toward the great beast about to end his life—I know there’s no way I can react in time to stop it.
This is the end.