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Chapter 3
OAKLEY
The tunnels are just as daunting as I remember, long and winding with every footstep echoing off the cold walls around me. I’ve been down here three times now, and I haven’t enjoyed a single one of them, and something tells me this time is going to be no different.
A chill sails down my spine, infecting every cell in my body, and my only saving grace is that Harrison, the cell guard, had an unfortunate incident with Zade’s gun, and I doubt with everything that’s been going on, they’ve had a chance to replace him. Or hell, they probably aren’t even aware he’s dead yet.
Reaching the security gate, I grip onto it, trying to figure out how to bust this fucker down, when it moves under the pressure of my hands. My brows furrow as my eyes widen, and I push a little harder, sucking in a breath as I realize it’s been left unlocked.
Not wanting to wait around to figure out why, I push it open just enough to slip through, all too aware of just how loud this fucker can be when the old hinges are pushed to their limits.
Hurrying down the old metal stairs and to the cells, I try to ignore the images that assault my memory—the man the boys killed when they broke me out of here, the blood splattering over my body when Zade shot Harrison, the fear during the darkness and silence of the night.
I wasn’t built for this world, and yet here I am trying to break my father out of prison.
Maybe I’m exactly what this world is all about.
Finding the row of cells my father and I were locked in, I slow my pace and creep down them, peering into all the cells on my left, knowing my father was along here somewhere. The whole thing was a rush of mixed emotions. I have no recollection of just how far down his cell was, but after coming to the end and finding nothing, my heart races.
He’s not here.
I quickly turn on my heel and look around. Could I be in the wrong place? The wrong row of cells? No, definitely not. I know I’m fuzzy on the details, but there are only so many wrong turns I could have made and I’m certain I’m in the right place.
I double back, looking again, taking my time and really peering into the cells, searching in the shadows just in case I missed something. “Dad?” I whisper through the darkness, my voice sailing right up the long, chilling corridor. “Dad? Where are you? It’s me.”
I get nothing. Dead silence.
Where the fuck is he? Did they take him somewhere?
All of the cells are neatly put together, the beds made with empty shelves, yet one cell has me stopping. The sheets are crumpled as though someone spent hours on end lying in them. There’s a single picture of a woman who looks like an older version of me, and a tray with food scraps at the end of the bed.
This has got to be my father’s cell. So where the hell is he?
Stepping right up to the bars, I peer in, shaking my head as I try to piece it all together when the security gate at the top of the stairs squeals through the cells. My heart thunders in my chest and I go to run when the voices sail down the long corridor.
There’s got to be at least three of them, all men, and moving way too fast to make any kind of getaway.
Out of time, I step back into the cell that used to be mine and hide in the shadows as I peer out into the hallway, the sound of footsteps sending a raw fear pulsing heavily through my veins.
“Find her,” one of the men rumbles, something eerily familiar about his tone.
“Of course, sir,” a different voice responds. “You have my word, she won’t escape us again.”
The first guy scoffs, now so much closer. “She has evaded your every attempt,” he says. “However, with Zade DeVil out of the way, that shouldn’t be quite so challenging for you.”
The men all but storm down the cells, and as they get closer, I shrink back into the shadows, my heart pounding. They come to a stop outside my father’s cell, and I inch back to get a better view, finding all three of them in suits, each looking disheveled and bloodied as though they’d been victim to the explosion at the ball.
Their backs are to me, but it’s clear their suits are expensive, exactly what one would expect from the men of Empire. That ball was like a fucking men’s fashion magazine, and while the women looked incredible, it was nothing compared to the men. Especially my men.
They hover in front of my father’s cell, and the longer they remain there, the more my brows furrow. What the hell are they doing?
