Page 60 of Shai

I nodded. “I figured that was the case.”

Shai’s hand landed on the small of my back, encouraging me to start

walking. Our pace across the bridge was slow. We’d taken quite a few steps before there was movement from the other side of the bridge, all four car doors opening and two men climbing out of the back. Then the unmistakable figure of Taylor was dragged from the back seat. Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that he wasn’t in a good state, his body bent over as if it was impossible to stand upright without a great deal of pain. I remembered that state. I’d lived it for months. And it wouldn’t be long before I’d be right back there.

I ground to a halt, Shai’s voice urgent in my ear as he told me to “keep

going” in a tone that brooked no argument. I started forward again. Last to leave the car was McIntyre, the sight of him as he heaved his bulk out of the car making me want to vomit. I assumed we were going to be doing most of the walking because if we waited for McIntyre to cover half of the distance we’d be there all day.

Sure enough, by the time we reached them, we’d covered about eighty

meters in comparison to McIntyre’s twenty. Taylor looked even worse close up, one eye so swollen that there was no way he could see anything out of it, and something not quite right about his jaw.

McIntyre’s gaze fastened on me and it was like no time had passed at all between us, the usual antagonism rising up to wrap me in its fiery tentacles. His scrutiny was all-encompassing, but I had no idea what he expected to see. I glared at him, not bothering to hold back. McIntyre gave a disdainful sniff as he turned his attention to Shai. “I’ve got to say that I’m disappointed. I thought you might have tamed him, but he seems just as feral as ever.”

Shai’s fingers twitched against my back where they still rested. “It would seem that you don’t bring out the best in him.”

McIntyre smiled, but it was a cold, evil smile that didn’t go anywhere near his eyes. “Maybe I should fuck him. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong.”

I balked at that, Shai’s fingers curling around the fabric of my hoodie the only thing that stopped me from launching myself at McIntyre. In contrast, Shai’s voice was the epitome of calm when he spoke. “I guess crushing the poor boy to death is one way of killing him.”

The clenching of McIntyre’s jaw said he was barely keeping himself in check. He motioned for Harris to come forward and grab me, Shai holding up a hand in protest. “Not so fast. We do it at the same time. You let Taylor go, and I’ll let Elijah go. And don’t even think about trying anything.”

McIntyre shook his head in a parody of sadness. “As you wish.” He gave the signal, a man I didn’t recognize giving Taylor a shove forward. Once he’d taken a step, I received my own shove, Harris swooping in to grab me, my arm immediately wrenched behind my back. I twisted round in an effort to take one last look at Shai, but his back was already turned.

I was thrown against the side of the car, McIntyre bellowing the order to “search him.” Hands immediately went into my pockets, justifying my decision to have moved the bottle of cyanide. As long as they didn’t check my socks, I would be okay. I just had to pray I’d get the opportunity to use it, even if it was the last thing I did.

Elijah

I’D ALWAYS THOUGHT that McIntyre’s compound was a shithole, but after spending weeks in the contrasting opulence of Shai’s home, it seemed even worse. The stench hit me as soon as we walked through the door: body odor and fast food, with an underlying aroma of something that I could only describe as the scent of death. A shove in the back had me stumbling over the threshold, the clang of the door behind me signaling something far more profound than just the sealing of an exit.

My old friends, Harris and Jones, marched me through the corridors

until we reached a familiar room. Like Shai’s compound, there was a large central space that acted as a nerve center. I smirked at the sight of McIntyre’s throne. Shai hadn’t needed a throne to make it clear that he was the leader of his empire. He’d simply exuded it from every pore.

Men spilled from the adjoining spaces, congregating around the edge of

the room to form a silent audience. There seemed to be even more than I remembered. There were certainly faces I didn’t recognize from my last stint under his roof. Had McIntyre been swelling his ranks, and if so, why? Was he planning something?

The man himself made his way over to his throne, lowering his bulk

into it and resting his chin on his hand to subject me to a silent scrutiny that seemed to go on forever. “Welcome home, Elijah.”

Home! Jesus, was he for real? It was all I could do not to cast a disparaging look around the room, the place littered as it always was with various items of rubbish.

I forced myself to stay still, to breathe, to wait, staring at McIntyre without blinking.

He laughed as if there was something amusing about my silence. “I have to confess that I expected you to be different.”

I raised my chin, unable to resist asking the question. “In what way?”

He gave the tiniest of head shakes. “Just different. But you seem exactly the same as the man who left here under”—he paused as if he was picking his words carefully—“such unfortunate circumstances. Am I right?”

I shrugged. I was different, but not in any way that would influence my feelings toward McIntyre. Nothing short of a miracle or a lobotomy would achieve that. I risked taking my eye off McIntyre for long enough to take a proper look around. It was as if time had stood still. Absolutely nothing had changed. There was even a McDonald’s wrapper I could have sworn was there during my last period of incarceration.

McIntyre lounged back in his chair, his head tipping to one side as he ran his gaze over me in a considering fashion. “Imagine my surprise when a little birdie told me that you’d been seen when you were supposed to be lying at the bottom of the river. And with that smarmy fucker, of all people.” He cracked his knuckles, a flush slowly spreading up the length of his neck. “He must have thought he was so clever to get one over on me.”

So that was it. He’d wanted me back because of some sort of perceived notion that Shai had only kept me as a personal slight against him. McIntyre shuffled forward on the seat, his eyes narrowing. “I suppose you think you’re invincible, don’t you?”