Page 115 of Deadfall

“Fuck you,” I stammered. “You’ll break at this—but, where were you the last five years?”

Tears burned my eyes. “You ignored everything! Damn you—do not say a fucking word! You owe me that much!”

Jamal stared, aghast at my outburst. “I’m so sorry, S—”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Hangman growled. “Jesus Christ.”

The man placed the gun against Jamal’s forehead. “So touching, really. Where’s the safe house?”

Jamal shook his head, his eyes still on me. “I have nothing to say.”

“Are you sure?”

Jamal closed his eyes. “It’s been an honor, brother.”

“A goddamn honor,” Hangman echoed quietly.

I wanted to close my eyes too, but I couldn’t. The man pulled the trigger, and Jamal fell dead. I inhaled sharply and fought through my emotions—I couldn’t show him anything—I couldn’t break. Hangman closed his eyes in pain at the loss of his friend. My heart ached for him.

A line of pain jolted across my back as the lashes resumed. I tried to keep eye contact with Hangman, but the intensity of the beating escalated. I knew the moment one of the blows broke my skin. I could feel the trickle of blood as it ran down my back. I couldn’t stop the gasps or whimpers, and tears blurred my vision. At one point I heard Hangman’s voice and I jerked my head up.

“No,” I whimpered. “Please, don’t—” I couldn’t speak again as another hit fell across my kidney and took all of my breath away.

The ground under my boots grew slippery with blood, and it was impossible to stand without slipping. My weight sagged on my wrists and blood ran down my arms. I wondered if I would bleed out that way.

At some point they dropped the chain and I fell to my knees. The world blurred, and my ears rang. The world dimmed dangerously and Hangman screamed my name. I tried to curse him for calling me by my name in this situation, but no words formed. I was dizzy and tired—so, so tired.

The ground rushed up to my face, and I heard Hangman yell the words I didn’t want to hear—the sound of the safe house address in Hangman’s broken voice and a final ominous gunshot.

54

EMERSYN

Present Day

I shoved away from the shower wall.

My chest heaved and I wiped water from my eyes as the present rushed back. I shrugged my shoulders and swore I felt every single scar on my back. I’d failed in a spectacular fashion that night and lost my entire team. But, my suffering hadn’t ended there.

Days later, I’d woken up in a boarding house surrounded by children in chains—convinced I’d died and gone to hell. Unfortunately, the reality was much worse. For the next three years, I had a front row seat to what my childhood could have turned into at Octavius’ hands, and witnessed the corruption of innocence he continued to spread because of my inability to kill him.

My time with Quarry was a hazy nightmare. I’d spent most of it protecting the younger girls as much as I could. I made plans to escape, but each time I went to execute them, we’d be moved or I wouldn’t have the opportunity to free the young ones, and I couldn’t live with myself if I left them to save myself.

Years passed and eventually I heard I was headed to the Red Auction. I wondered if that would be where I’d get a chance at Octavius, or Albatron, except before I could learn more, Mahoney had shown up and brought me to the island.

Adrenaline surged through me. If Octavius was coming here, I was going to get another chance to kill him and this time, I wasn’t going to fail.

The water ran black around me. I was filthy. The dirtiest I’d probably ever been in my life. Mud was places I didn’t know mud could get, and it took me a while until I felt clean. After I washed my hair for the third time, I decided that was as good as it was going to get and shut off the shower. I heard Griffin and Seven’s quiet voices and nerves shot through me. I still wasn’t convinced they weren’t going to make me pay for their kindness.

I wrapped myself in a large towel and with a deep breath, braced myself and opened the door. Both of their eyes flickered up briefly as I entered the room, but neither of them stopped what they were doing. Seven stood in the kitchenette while something that smelled mouthwatering cooked in a skillet. Griffin sat at the table, a cigarette balanced between his lips as he cleaned a few guns near a half-open window.

“There’s a sweatshirt on that chair, gorgeous,” Seven called out. “Food will be ready in a minute.”

I grabbed the sweatshirt and quickly put it on. It went down to my thighs, and I refused to acknowledge how content it made me feel to have it on again. I hung up the towel and slowly perched on the edge of the armchair across from Griffin.

“I’m going to shower,” Griffin grumbled.

He snubbed out his cigarette and disappeared into the bathroom.