Chapter 31
Indie
formula - labrinth
Two days have passed since Louisa showed me that video of Saint. Each time I blink, I see his bruised and bloodied body behind my eyelids.
I want to cry tears of relentless joy, scream at the top of the world that he’s fucking alive. But I can’t, because I don’t know how long it will last before he’s tortured to death.
And there wasn’t just one video; there were multiple.
A CCTV feed sits in the corner of the room they drag him into. Where he is before and goes after, I have no idea. Louisa didn’t mention it, and I didn’t ask, too caught up in the fact that his heart still beats.
She handed over the location of Clarke’s research centre where Saint is being held and gave us all the information she had. Well, that we know of. This is the only lead given, so we’ll snatch at it with greedy hands.
I don’t doubt they’d have either cells or padded rooms at the facility. They’re going to ensure he either goes insane or hands over the information they want from him.
What they don’t know is that Saint lost his mind a long time ago; that man really is the devil reincarnated. I’ve witnessed him drenched in the blood of his enemies, and yet, not once has it made me back away in fear.
Everyone else though? Yeah, they have every right to be terrified.
Saint may be all seven deadly sins wrapped up in inked skin and grey eyes, but I’ve glimpsed that angel that rests within him for me. He might no longer be God’s favourite, but he sure as hell is mine.
So I’ll be damned if anyone thinks they can take that away from us, even him.
When I get my hands on him, he’ll learn a whole new meaning to indulge in wrath.
Rex told me what he did to the Chief, how Saint left him with more holes than a damn sponge. Now I can smile about it, because Saint is nothing if not poetic in his wicked ways, seeing as the Chief tried to poke holes in my story when I reported Conrad.
The mere chance of luck on them crossing paths, Saint not even hesitating to take him out without a solid plan. That might have been what really threw me over the edge if I still thought he was dead, knowing I’d have to live with never thanking him.
Now it’s got a fire roaring inside me.
We’re all dotted around the meeting room of the Pit, Regina and Jenna at either side of me. Jenna seems more at ease being around people, which honestly just looking at her, fills my heart with something warm.
It might be down to the fact Rex is standing by her like a personal bodyguard, his hands gripping the back of the sofa at each side of her head, almost like he’s caging her in, just waiting for someone to get too close and make her uncomfortable.
Mom is thankfully still up in her room with Dr Beverley.
I went to go see her this morning and reassured her I was fine.
She doesn’t know Louisa was here, or that Barry is dead.
She thinks her other daughter is in hiding, that the government has her protected from whatever threats are outside waiting for her.
Little does she know that Louisa is the threat.
I still don’t trust her or what she said. She gave it up a little too freely for my liking, and I refuse to believe her reasons. She’s had years of practising lies and placing on masks; what’s to say yesterday wasn’t her closing performance?
Right now though, Saint’s life is worth more than the risks.
Malcolm places the phone on the desk, and just like the same aura his son owns, the room falls silent. Now that I know he has military experience, I see it now. The way he holds himself, barks orders at people who just follow them without hesitation.
These guys recognise the authority; they hang on his every word. “We’re going to be dropped off by air.”
“Air?” Rex repeats, dragging out the last letter as he stares over my shoulder at Saint’s dad.
Malcolm leans against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “Glad to see your hearing’s working, Rex. Yes, air.”
Rex goes to throw him the middle finger, then subtly thinks twice by dragging it through his hair instead, but Malcolm doesn’t miss it. Neither does Dawson, going by his hushed chuckle.
The images that are flashing through my mind have some Call of Duty scenario going on, people jumping out of planes and landing with parachutes.
I hope he knows that some of us in the room don’t have that kind of experience.
Whilst I’d go to the ends of the earth for my man, I’ll be useless if I break an ankle.
Malcolm continues when he glances at me. “I called in a favour from an old friend.”
“Who?” Rex asks, moving to sit on the arm of the sofa next to Jenna.
The corner of Malcolm’s lips tilts upwards; it’s fleeting, but it reminds me so much of Saint. My heart aches at the recognition. He clearly takes so much after his dad, that’s for sure. I never noticed it before, but I’ve also never spent this much time in his presence.
“He’s known as Nocturne, and he’s well equipped at moving around unnoticed. He had a contact who could help us borrow one.”
That seems to pacify Dawson and Rex, and they nod as if they know who he is. Meanwhile, I can feel Regina’s stare burning the side of my cheek. When I turn to look at her, her face says exactly what my brain is thinking. “He sounds…shady.”
Dawson rumbles a laugh next to her. “That’s one way to describe the mad bastard.”
“How do you know this guy? Can you trust him?” I ask, feeling like I’m missing the connection.
Dawson turns to look at me, a mischievous smile on his face. “Malcolm, Saint and I worked with him before.”
Malcolm claps his hands together, signalling the end of that conversation. “The facility is three hours from here up in the peaks. They’ll see us coming a mile off if we head in by the road. We’ll need to leave before the storm hits, travelling the rest of the way by foot. So dress warm.”
He swings his gaze to me. “I’ve scouted an area where we’ll be dropped off and head through the woods.”
My shoulders ease a little. My mind is too corroded to think how the hell I was sliding down a rope into the woods.
These guys might have travelled all over the world and been in high-intensity situations; I literally sneak into these corrupt assholes’ homes and put a bullet in them, a knife if I have time.
“Get ready. We’re bringing my fucking son home.” And with that, Malcolm leaves the room, followed by the remainder of the Ultio members who joined in.
“I know I said before I was going to join you guys at some point, but this seems a little in the deep end for me. I’m gonna stay back with your mom.” Jenna nudges me. “Besides, someone needs to keep her distracted whilst you go fuck shit up.”
I feel my face light up for the first time in days, glad the two of them seem to be finding comfort in one another. Out of the three of us, my mom was the one Jenna, Regina and I spent time with the most. “You know I’d never ask or expect it of you, Jenna. And thank you…for Mom.”
She squeezes my hand. “She’s doing more for me than I am for her, to be honest. Once this is over, she’s going to help me reach out to my parents.”
Regina leans forward. “Oh, Jenna. That’s amazing.”
Jenna’s eyes glass over, but she blinks them away quicker than it arrived. “Just another step closer to our new normality, right?”
My hand squeezes hers back. “The old one was boring anyway.”
She throws her head back and laughs, and God does it feel good to hear it. “Yeah, I tried telling Grace that. She hasn’t quite warmed up to our dark humour just yet.”
A few hours later, we manage to survive the seedy helicopter ride and land at a viewpoint about five miles off from where we need to be. I can safely say that I will make my way back to the Pit on foot if I need to, because that descent? My ass is still clutched to the seat of the chopper.
My gaze focuses ahead. White’s Psychiatry Research Centre is written in big bold blue letters across beige panels of wood, perched atop of the building’s roof.
A large structure wraps around in an octagon, almost giving the impression it’s built into the side of the mountain, some levels dipping lower as it edges near the cliff side.
The complex is modern, but the months it’s been left abandoned since Clarke’s death show, the exterior grounds unkept, damp eating away at the once pristine paint with the storms we’ve had.
I didn’t even know this place was here. When Regina and I checked his file all those months ago, the facility was kept ‘hidden from the public eye for patient confidentiality’.
That should have been the first red flag he was hiding something even more sinister.
My fingers regrip the handle of my gun, and sweat slicks over every inch of my skin, despite how cold it is at this altitude.
We’re hidden in the treeline, and the storm is beginning to pick up since we landed; rain clashes down all around us, battering the trees and sending them sideways as they shudder above us. There’s an unsettling aura moving around like a wraith in these woods.
Jenna’s been told about this place, and the way she described it, I’m assuming it’s because this is where people were brought to break their minds. The chill in the air is likely their trapped sanity, brushing past my neck as they reach out to remind you they once belonged to someone.
The inside is littered with guards; some are on the roof, and two stand huddled near the entrance as the rain pelts down on them. A few are doing rounds as they walk past the bay windows, dipping out of sight once they reach the corner.
The floodlights are on, lighting up the entire front of the small car park, where three SUVs sit in a row.
My hand grips my gun tighter, and I pray that everything the guys at the Pit have taught me over my time with them has stuck.
I turn to look at Regina. I’ve been glued to her side the entire walk through the woods.
When we took out marks, it was always me going in by myself. Whenever she asked to join me, I always said no, too scared in case I lost her. When I look at her now, I don’t think I had anything to ever worry about.
“You okay?” I whisper, leaning up close to hear her response as the leaves roar louder in the wind.
She turns, nodding her head. “Never thought my first time would be like this.”
My lips tilt at the corners. “Technically it’s mine too. At least we’re together.”
Malcolm, Rex and Dawson are just a couple of feet ahead of us, crouched behind the trees as they wait for the signal to go in.
“What’s it like?” Regina asks, her thumb grazing over the rifle in her hand.
If she’d asked me the same questions weeks ago, I’d probably have given her a different answer. Fluffed it to mask who I really am deep down.
Echoes of gurgles, skin bleaching white and fear diluting eyes fills me. I’ve had a taste of what real revenge feels like, and now I don’t think I’ll ever change my mind.
I hold her gaze as I answer, “Liberating.”
The woodland around us has dipped in complete darkness from when we first set off, all bar the lights ahead beaming down and illuminating the horizontal rain. It feels like it’s growing heavier by the minute.
My legs are cramping up from the time we’ve spent huddled in our hiding spot, and if my dad could see me now, I know he’d be appalled.
“How much longer?” I ask, my bones letting off a rattle with the cold and the anticipation. Saint’s only hundreds of feet away, and God knows what they’re doing to him right now.
For the first time in my life, I’m ready for some bloodshed. I don’t want to feel the relief that once graced me after I took one of them down. I want to be laced with the unforgivable high.
“Any minute now,” Dawson answers, pressing his finger into his earpiece.
They have a group working their way up the trails, and it’s the reason we’ve been sitting here for so long. The road up is long and tortuous, and cameras are hidden within the treeline. They’ve been blocking them to avoid any detection.
I can see why Clarke chose this place; anyone who ever manages to escape will either get caught running, or die before they make it to civilization with the elements.
Just as I go to shift and get more comfortable, everything plunges into black.
It sounds like a distant thunder rumbles in the air, but when the awareness of everyone standing up sounds around me, I follow the sound of Dawson's voice. “They’re down, cameras are cut. Let’s go.”