Page 42 of Wreck and Ruin
Airlie is up there in that cathedral, and it's all my fucking fault.
I should have done more, anything to keep that oxygen thief from taking her, and now, she’s in their hands, not mine. I don’t know where they’re keeping her, but I will tear this shithole apart brick by fucking brick until I find her.
‘Murder without love is just murder, Ezekiel. But in the name of the one you love, death is something else entirely.’
Titan’s words fill my mind as I round the corner of the cramped, weathered shack, waiting for the perfect moment to take out the guard. I wasn’t sure what Titan meant by his words at the time. Growing up alone with no family, the idea of love was foreign to me. Since meeting my siren, I’ve imagined life in ways I never thought were even possible for a man like me, and now, love has become my driving force.
My reason.
Before her, I was inconsequential in every sense of the word. In my career and in life. And now that I’ve found Airlie, even though it’s obvious that I don’t deserve her, I don’t want to imagine a life without her in it.
I will do anything, be anything for Airlie, and I won't stop until she's safe in my arms again. The gut-wrenching ache that sears through my heart from thoughts of what they could be doing to her is visceral. If they so much as scratch her perfect, delicate skin anymore than these assholes already have, I'll set every last one of them on fire.
My fingers blanch, my knuckles white as I tightly grip the knife's hilt. I crouch behind the tall figure. His back is turned, his eyes fixed on the sea, unsuspecting of the predator close behind him. I stand abruptly, my left hand reaching for the scruff of his hair, then I tilt his head back toward me. My face is inches from his as I slice the blade across his throat without a single sound slipping from his lips. Blood gushes from his neck, spilling over both our bodies, and I gently guide his now dead, slumping frame into the seat that overlooks the window. If anyone glances down from the cathedral, they won't notice that he's dead, not unless they can see the blood pooling on the floor surrounding his body from that distance.
I don’t know how many Royals there are here in Atlantara, but I suppose I’ll find out in about five minutes or less. I frisk the guard, searching his pockets for anything that could help me gain entry. I pull out a large set of rusted keys and pick up the axe he dropped to the floor in the attack.
Hurriedly, I exit the boathouse, sprinting back along the dock and out of sight of the windows that tower above. I hit the stone hard, my bare feet almost skidding against the slippery surface as I race up the staircase carved into the rock formation that leads to the only door I’ve seen into the building.
Waves crash around me everywhere, and sea spray clings to my hair and skin as I reach the iron door. My ragged breaths are heavy, my shoulders tight with awareness as I pull the keys from my pocket and try every key there is before it finally unlocks with a click, and I slowly push the door open.
It's the smell that hits me first.
The familiar, acrid stench of rotten flesh and shit blends with the putrid, metallic scent of blood, old and new, burning all of my senses. It's all I can do not to vomit. My eyes start to water, blurring the corners of my vision as bile rises in the back of my throat, threatening to make an appearance. There must be another entrance that I’m not aware of because there is no way anyone would come down here.
I cover my mouth and nose with my free hand, the other still holding the axe, as I silently walk through the stone hallway that opens onto what looks like an old church foyer. The floor is made out of concrete, blood-stained and wet in places, and I notice garden hoses woven around rusted taps, fixed along the walls every few meters. There is only one reason for those hoses, and that thought makes me sick and terrified of what I might find here.
My eyes scan the dark space for signs of movement, and I stick close to the walls and as out of sight as possible. There are doors lined up like old hospital rooms, and I don’t need to look to know what's behind them. Tightening my grip on the axe handle, I raise it as if holding a baseball bat and quietly walk toward the first door on my left.
I reach out and twist the handle, but of course, it's locked. I risk everything by leaning my weapon against the stone wall and searching for the key that will likely fit. The door opens on the third try, and I pick up the axe and stand back, allowing enough space between me and whatever,whoeveris on the other side.
I kick open the door and mentally prepare myself, but no amount of training could have ever prepared me for the horrific sight before me. Small, naked bodies are huddled in the corner of the tiny, dilapidated room. They cower, holding onto each other for dear life as I stand, unmoving in the doorway. My stomach twists with something unrecognizable, forcing me to lower my weapon.
“Hey, it's okay. You’re going to be okay. I'm going to get you out of here,” I whisper, taking a few steps into the room, but I immediately regret it when my eyes flick to the other corner. The rotten smell is much more pungent now, and it’s coming from the decomposing body lying on the concrete floor to my right.
Godfuckingdammit.
Biting my tongue, I hold my breath, lowering to my knees. I keep a safe distance from the victims because the last thing I want to do is scare them any more than they already are, and I can’t have them making a scene, or alerting anyone that I’m here. I hold up my free hand, surrendering to them, a gesture to let them know I’m not a threat.
“I'll help you,” I whisper again.
The woman, holding a child, peeks up through, long, unruly hair, hiding her face. Her eyes, almost swollen shut, blink slightly when her hair falls away, revealing her bruised features.
“H-help,”is all she says, and I bite back the emotions clogging my throat. Memories of my childhood flood my mind, but I push them aside.
This isn't about me.
Airlie, baby, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I can't leave them here like this.
“I am going to close the door. It will be unlocked. I will come back for you. I will come back for everyone. Nod, if you understand me.”
The woman nods, weak from starvation and who knows what else. I don’t know how long they’ve had to live beside a dead body, but they’re going to need to see a doctor.
I am way out of my depth here.
“Do you know how many guards there are?” I ask.
Any information would not go astray right now. She looks into my eyes, and I look away on instinct, trying to give her privacy. My stomach churns, mixing with anger and hatred at how anyone could let this happen.
