We walk into a room that has bright lights. I close my eyes and I'm dropped onto a table.
The hood is pulled off. I can see a bright light behind my lids.
“Is that?—”
“Yes. Scan him and check him for any devices.” The goon is impatient.
I recognize the other man's voice. He's a doctor my father has had on payroll for as long as I can remember.
I feel the doc's hands patting me down, my belt is removed and they continue moving up.
There's some sort of scan done for any tracking devices.
Typical. Predictable.
When I first enacted this plan with Lucian, a prototype his own team had been working on was just completed. And I was now the guinea pig.
“All clear,” the doc confirms.
“Great, thanks doc.” The goon grunts out and I'm thrown over his shoulder.
If I’m correct, we should be entering an elevator.
I hear the telltale ding and smirk.
They throw me in one of the cells underneath the shitty office building Gideon is clearly hiding in.
As soon as I hear the men leave, my eyes are open and I'm scanning my surroundings.
The cell is what you'd imagine a jail cell to look like. Metal bars upgraded with an electronic lock, a thin cot on a bed frame that's bolted to the ground. A built-in toilet and sink. The shitty fluorescent light flickers at a constant rate.
Fucking hell.
I sit with my back against the wall, my arms resting on my knees. Nothing else to do but wait for Gideon to show his face and confirm hispresence.
I know my father's game. He wants me crawling the walls, losing my mind.
But I'm not like the others he's captured before. He's forgotten that I'm his son, and he trained me to endure these situations.
Which I also know he anticipates, cause he makes me wait in the cell for about three days before he decides to show his face. In which I've only been able to drink out of the single water bottle they've given me, and a sandwich from the first night.
I prepared for all of my father's usual tricks.
My head is resting against the back wall when I hear the elevator doors open and the rhythmic beat of my father walking toward the cell.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
I lift my head and meet his cold, calculating gaze.
I know all his moves before he even decides to make them. I'm watching him as he looks over my appearance, and I'm doing the same. He's wearing a fitted suit, his hair is done, but his eyes have circles around them. He's trying to look like he's put together but I know what he hides. I grew up under his roof.
Gideon enters the code to the door, each key beeping in the silence before I hear the mechanical sound of the lock unlocking, and he pulls the door open. Two large men are standing behind him.
“You don't trust that you could take me on yourself? You had to bring help?” I know I'm egging him on, poking the bear. But I know it’s needed. I need him to be angry with me. To take out this anger on me. I deserve every single thing coming my way.
His face doesn't show anything, but I can see the clues that he can't hide.
The slight flare of his nostrils. The almost-imperceptible twitch in his jaw. The way his eyes track over me like he’s cataloging every failure he thinks I’ve made.
