Page 131 of Desecrated Saints
“What about our protection with Sabre?” I bite my lip.
“For now, it remains. We will do our best to ensure a deal is made.”
They begin to pack up their supplies, leaving me staring at the blank white wall. I’m still walking away empty-handed. We’ve spilled our souls and received nothing but empty words in return.
“Hey,” Enzo says under his breath. “It’s going to be okay, Brooke. We will always keep you and the others safe. That won’t change.”
“Until they come knocking with handcuffs and straitjackets.”
His smile is tight, unhappy. In the many tiring weeks we’ve hidden out here, I never expected to make friends. Especially with the people we once saw as threats. They welcomed us into their home and gave us hope. This new world we’ve re-entered has been devastating and surprising in equal measure.
Before the agents can finish packing up their paperwork, our meeting is interrupted by a blaring alarm. Our sessions moved to Sabre HQ last week, once the threat from Incendia became clear to the task force. They quickly changed their tune and wanted the assurance of Hunter’s team on hand.
“What’s that?” I shield my ears.
Enzo presses the comms in his ear, listening to someone speaking on the end of the line. His face transforms, overcome with concern and urgency. He briefly looks at me before turning to the agents.
“We have a security breach. It could be a false alert, but I don’t want to risk Incendia catching wind of your presence. They can never know about this investigation.”
The two men sitting behind Agent Barlow and Agent Jonas both step forward, unveiling holsters beneath their pristine grey suits. Their quiet attention becomes determination in a split second. Once packed up, all four agents move in a practised formation towards the exit.
“Stay here,” Enzo commands me.
“I can’t just sit here! Let me help.”
“If Incendia are here, they’re here for you. Don’t move. I’ll get Hunter to send a team up to retrieve you.”
Ignoring my protests, he pulls his own gun out and leads the way for the others to follow. Hunter has already vanished from outside the door. I’m left standing in the middle of the interview room like a fucking lemon. I’m not going to sit here and wait for rescue.
Sneaking the opposite way down the corridor, I find the exit door to the stairwell. The fluorescent lights have all switched to dark red, indicating the emergency alert. Blaring drills into my head, but I easily tune it out. After months of white-noise torture, a stupid alarm won’t slow me down.
My legs race up the concrete-lined stairwell, all the way up to the level with the temporary apartments. I’m breathing hard by the time I get to the top. The hallway seems undisturbed despite the alarm. Reaching Lucia and Two’s door, I hammer on it with both fists until my hands ache.
I nearly fall inwards when it opens.
“Eight?” Lucia’s eyes peek around the door.
“It’s me. Are you both okay?”
She sags from relief. “We’re both here. Two’s freaking out. What’s happening? Are we under attack?”
“I don’t know. Keep the door locked and get in the bathtub. Don’t open it for anyone. You still have that gun Hudson stole for you?”
Lucia nods frantically.
“Good. I’ll come find you when I know it’s safe.”
Letting her slam the door in my face, I move to our apartment next. My voice bounces off the walls as I scream for the guys, flying between each empty room like a bat out of hell. Nobody is here. I think Kade mentioned something about a boxing match with the new recruits this evening in the training room.
Fisting my short hair, I try to gain control of my spiralling fear. There’s no way Incendia could breach this fortress. It would take an army to get past Hunter’s precautions and countless employees, all sworn to defend us. A team of well-paid thugs wouldn’t stand a chance.
But a sole person?
That’s a possibility.
My heart seizes at the thought. I’m moving fast before I realise it. Instinct is driving me towards the eighth floor, where the detention cells reside. I first woke up in one such prison. These days, it’s home to our favourite psychopath, the affable Professor Lazlo.
Stumbling down the freezing stairwell, I’m sweaty and panting as I get to the detention block. It’s eerily quiet on this level, the offices cleared out and abandoned. Nobody comes here. Around several twisting corners, I reach the long stretch of corridor that holds the cells.
