Holly
I was exhausted.I shouldn’t be. Based on what time Jason said I’d fallen asleep at the club to when I’d woken up in my bed at our apartment, I’d slept nearly fourteen hours.
I wished I could remember more of the night before. It wasn’t that I’d forgotten or that I was under the impression that it hadn’t happened. But it was hazy, which was why I’d believed it was a dream until Jason told me otherwise.
The main thing that I remembered was the feeling of security. Between spacing out while killing Sam and then sleeping for hours, it was understandable that I couldn’t recall all the details. I’d never reached subspace before, and I wondered if that’s what this was. Jason was no help when I asked because it wasn’t something he sought after with his partners.
“You’d have to ask the special agent,” he told me before throwing a piece of paper at me.
I caught it, looking down to see the logo for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Next to it was:
Supervisory Special Agent Shawn Mallory
Juneau Headquarters, Alaska
It had a phone number and email address as well. I turned the card over to find a handwritten note.
Little Owl,
Meet me at 9 tonight. I promise to make you soar.
Master Mal
My heart started thrumming hard inside my chest. Jason had trained me to be ruthless, to never surrender. I refused to ever be a victim again. I was strong because I had to be. But there was true relief innothaving to be.
I might not remember specifics, but I did know I’d felt safe. Some instinct inside meknewMaster Mal would not harm me and would respect my boundaries.
“I can show you a world of pleasure without ever restraining you. I can make you soar higher than the clouds without ever tying your hands.”A memory of his words came back to me in a rush.
I wanted that pleasure. I wanted to know what it felt like to truly fly. Dancing was amazing, but I wanted more. And I wanted Master Mal to be the one to bring me there.
Foolish, selfish, crazy? Yes, yes, and yes. But after all I’d been through, perhaps I was due a little bit of that.
Jason came down the stairs. “Barrels are here.” He’d gone out to get some cake and pick up what we needed.
I pocketed Master Mal’s business card, Jason’s earlier threat ringing through my head. I wasn’t in love with the special agent. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of loving someone when I didn’t even know if I loved myself. Jason didn’t bluff, but I knew that Master Mal’s life was safe. Even if he fell, which I doubted hewould, but if he did, it wouldn’t bewith me. It would be with the façade I showed him, with the woman in the owl mask.Little Owl…
I decided Andy was the next to go. John was too out of it after yesterday for me to enjoy his death, especially after missing Sam’s. Plus, after what Jason had done to Andy’s back that morning, he was being a whiny little bitch and I just didn’t want to hear it anymore.
Amber’s cell was completely cleaned up and the tanning bed was gone. Jason had taken care of Sam’s body, though I didn’t know where it was or what he’d done with it. There hadn’t been much to clean up in his cell, so that one was ready too. Which was good because Jesse and Roman would be occupying the empty spaces by tomorrow.
Jason and I brought the barrels down. Fuck, they were heavy, but then they were fifty-five gallon steel drums of beer.
Andy was lying on his cell floor, his back ripped to shreds. Moldy piles of gluten-free bread and treats were stacked into the one corner of his cell.
Each cell had a sprinkler system, though none were set up with the intent to put out a fire. The idea was to be used either as a deterrent or an incentive. Or in Andy’s case, a murder dispensary system.
Once the lines were hooked up, I tapped on the polycarbonate wall. “Not looking too good there, Andrew. I brought you a cold one to cheer you up.”
With that, I turned the nozzle. The overhead sprinkler system in Andy’s cell started pouring out the cold beer from the first barrel. Andy yelled as the alcohol hit his back, but he didn’t stand until he realized just how much was being poured into his cell. It was ankle deep in mere seconds.
After the first drum was emptied, Jason undid the vacuum and nozzle before switching over to the second drum. Andy’seyes widened when he saw just how many drums were available to be poured into his cell.
He rushed over to stand on the other side of the clear wall from me. Fists pounding on the heavy polycarbonate, he cried and yelled, “I’m sorry! Please, please! Don’t do this, I’m sorry!”
I stared into his fear-filled eyes for a moment before walking to the cell on my right. On the left of his cell was John, who was too out of it to make this next question any fun. When I stepped up to Wyatt’s cell, I looked down at him sitting on the floor. He’d already gotten his shot of epinephrine before but was still looking ragged from the experience of once again eating a banana without knowing if I would let him choke or save his life.
“You have a choice,” I told him. “Do you see the air holes between the cells? They’re not wide enough for a lot of beer to come through, certainly not enough to keep the beer from rising but enough to slow it down. By leaving the holes uncovered, youcouldpotentially save his life.” I shrugged. “Maybe I miscalculated and I don’t have enough beer to fill his cell completely even with the constant drain into yours and John’s cells. It’s possible.”
