They all nodded, looking scared yet hopeful. The boys only had their clothes, whereas I wore a backpack filled with explosives connected to my controller, along with things I’d collected over the five years I’d been here. With the controller I’d stolen and rewired, I walked into the dimly lit corridors made of dirt and concrete. The boys followed me closely, stepping where I stepped. Tables, bookcases, racks of supplies, stacked chairs and boxes, and other miscellaneous items filled the corridors. It was easy to get lost in the tunnels as they all looked similar. They were designed to trap his victims. But I’d learned the path from memory—from pretending to get lost so many times that Tony showed me a map, confirming that one existed. I glanced at my forearm to double-check the direction.
I spotted the markings I’d left on the walls for my reference and darted toward freedom. When we made it outside, the boys and I inhaled a deep breath of fresh air and embraced each other.
“We’ll celebrate later,” I told them and pulled the compass from my pants pocket.
Before we headed out to the maze in the forest, I pressed a button on my controller. A loud boom erupted behind us. A flash of light flickered into the dark night, and the ground shook, rattling the trees and leaves around us. The tunnels and the underground complex were burning now. No alarm sounded, thanks to Razor.
I gave each boy a flashlight. “Let’s go.”
With my flashlight raised, I entered the maze and highlighted where vines hung like snakes. Dangerous obstacles were hidden within the maze. Razor and Tony had told me stories about victims who died trying to escape. Shining a light onto my forearm, I looked at the map etched on my skin and used it to navigate the maze. Razor had stolen the map of the maze from Andrew and given it to me. I could have saved it for reference, but that was too risky. Someone could’ve cleaned my desk or bed and discovered it. When I didn’t need it anymore, I burned it. Having the map tattooed on me was the safest place. Thorns, leaves, and rose designs surrounded the map tattoo, making the entire composition intricate. No one knew the meaning of the artwork but me. As we turned and avoided hidden traps, more explosions erupted in the distance, and fire lit up the night.
“Yes!” the boys cheered quietly, probably imagining Hawthorne and his men dead, the awful room that stored the dead bodies, or the refrigerator that held the chemicals to protect and preserve the organs.All gone.
Another boom shook the ground as fire blazed into the night. Terrifying screams echoed on and on, creating satisfying music to my ears. The guards at the main gate were probably dead now. I prayed Razor had escaped safely.
When we exited the maze, I threw several bombs into the tangle behind us, waiting for the remote activation from my controller.
“Can I throw one?” Godfrey asked.
“No, you’re too young.”
“They made us harvest organs from dead bodies,” said Timber. “Throwing a bomb is way less scary than that.”
“Please?” begged Hudson. “Victor’s a monster. That maze represents him. I want to hurt him however I can.”
I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing or not, but Igave them each a bomb, all remotely controlled just like the others.
With emotion gleaming in their eyes, the boys threw out the bombs.
I pointed to the controller in my hand, hopefully giving them the power they needed to move on from this moment. “Press this button.”
Then we ran for our lives.
Chapter One
Kain
I glanced at my watch, saw that it was four in the afternoon, and cursed.Where does the time go?The day was almost over, and I still hadn’t bought flowers for my mother. Today marked twenty years since her passing. The past few months had flown by, with one deadline after another.
Hire more help.
That wasn’t the issue, as I had thousands of employees under Kessler Corporation. Despite that, urgent matters required my personal review. A drunk driver had rammed his SUV into the ground floor of the twenty-story Kessler Building. Luckily, no one got hurt in the accident. But the ground-floor retail space and a portion of the second-floor gym, Kessler’s Studio, needed major renovations. I’d just approved the repairs for the engineers, laborers, plumbers, and electricians to start the detailed work. Details mattered to me. Details had helped me escape a hell no one should ever experience.
I had other gym locations throughout the country, but this one was in the building I lived in. The Kessler was one of four properties in Etched Square. My friends and I had purchased the land after a fire destroyed most of the original buildings. We had turned the square into a popular area in Brookline, a bustling town next to crowded Boston.
When I finished my emails, I got up and walked to the bookcase with a framed photo of my mom and me when I was sixteen. She’d just bought me a new sketchbook and colored pencils so I could start adding to my art portfolio. My dream of becoming an illustrator died with her.
“Any flower preferences today, Mom?” I studied the picture of her, loving emerald eyes with dirty blonde hair piled up high. The makeup had hidden the bruise on her cheek, courtesy of my fucking father.
Emotions constricted my chest as anger and resentment surged. If I had been home all those years, I could’ve protected her from the asshole. He’d broken her, literally and figuratively. Two days after my escape, I returned home and found her unconscious on the kitchen floor. By the time the EMTs arrived, they confirmed she was gone. That was why the police officers hadn’t been able to reach her when I was being examined in the hospital.
“You’re free now,” I had said on the day I released her ashes into the sea.
While I was trapped in the underground complex, my mother had been in her own prison too. My despicable father ended her life. This world was messed up in so many ways. So many evil deeds done. It was as though the devil gave out free tickets to join his legion.
It had been twenty years since my escape, but the darkness I experienced still lingered, often suffocating me. Healing from the trauma had been difficult, but therapy and keeping busyhelped tremendously. But today wasn’t the day to think about any of that—the devil wasn’t allowed to intrude on my mother’s memorial.
Every year I’d buy my mother flowers and place them on my dining room table along with all her favorites: meat lasagna, fried chicken, and chocolate cake. I placed the picture frame back onto the bookcase, grabbed my coat, and left my penthouse office, taking the elevator down to the first floor. Looking into the gym, I waved at Don Goodwin, the studio manager who also helped at Body Canvas, my tattoo parlor on the other side of the building.
