by Aella Black
He shook his head. “Incredible.” His voice echoed in the otherwise silent room. Then he snapped his fingers. “Medics.”
Good. Rocky still needed— “And guards.” Wait, what?
As the medics moved in to assist Rocky, Saul and Warrick hauled me to my feet.
Gasps and murmurs could be heard throughout the room. “Phoebe!” Xander’s voice cut through the commotion.
I tried to find him, but Warrick yanked me around, nearly wrenching my arm out of its socket. Mr. Fletcher stood in front of me, his eyes twinkling. “You are remarkable, my dear. Truly remarkable. Together, we’re going to change the world.”
I struggled against the guards, but it was useless. One of them alone was stronger than I’d ever be. “Let me go!”
“Let her go!”
My head swiveled in the direction of Xander’s voice. I saw him, desperately trying to get to me but being held back by—
Wolf.
Of course it would be him. Question was whether he was doing it to hurt Xander or to help him.
I turned back around to face Mr. Fletcher. “I don’t want to change the world,” I told him. “I just want to live in it.”
He responded by snapping his fingers, and then the guards dragged me away.
12
Xander
I knew exactly why Phoebe did it, but that didn’t make it easier to watch her being hauled away.
And by the two worst guards in this place.
I could take Saul… Warrick was going to be the problem. But even if I took them both out, there was a whole host of guards to take their place.
That was one of the many strongly worded reminders Wolf was whispering in my ear while he struggled to restrain me.
He was strong, but I was stronger. It was his words—not his body—that held me back. “I can’t save you if you go after Fletcher. And Chief, you know Warrick will have you flat on your back before you get within five feet of her. Come on, man, you’ve gotta stick with the plan. We can do this, but I need to you hold it together.”
Some words started to penetrate the red haze that had appeared the moment Fletcher called for guards to take my girl.
“What plan?” I asked him.
“I can’t talk about that right now,” Wolf said through gritted teeth. “Just know that you’re part of it.”
I shook my head violently… and then wished I hadn’t. My concussion was better today, but it wasn’t fully healed. “Not good enough,” I said. “Tell me about this plan.”
Wolf growled. “Your parents, remember? We need you to see them today. No one else can do that.”
I hadn’t forgotten, but it wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind right now.
“Where are they taking Phoebe?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked, my voice pitching high.
Wolf yanked my arm—hard. “It’s not like we get instant unlimited access when we arrive.”
“Okay, so what’s he planning to do to her?”
Wolf shook his head. “I wish I knew, man.”
My relative calm rapidly diminished. Phoebe had already been poked, prodded, and killed in the name of “science.” No way I was going to let them do whatever was required to produce tears for Fletcher’s world-changing scheme.
And speak of the devil…
“You’re dismissed early for lunch today,” he called out to anyone who’d listen. The room was buzzing with what had just happened. Even knowing about Phoebe’s healing ability, I could barely believe it myself. “Have a wonderful afternoon!”
The nerve of that man. He had no morals, no conscience… nothing stopping him from doing whatever he wanted to get what he wanted. Thoughts of her strapped down and locked in a room with him made me stop listening and start acting.
If I couldn’t get to Phoebe, I would go after Fletcher.
With every ounce of my power, I lunged forward, breaking Wolf’s tenuous grip on me. A nearby guard leapt into action and threw a punch at my face. I responded by picking him up and throwing him across the room.
“Stand down, Chief!” Heath spoke loudly, but his voice had a calming effect that had nothing to do with his power. But I refused to be calmed into submission.
Fletcher was moving toward the doors to leave and do who-knew-what with Phoebe, so I darted off in his direction. Guards swooped in from everywhere. I tried busting between two of them, Red-Rover style, but one apparently had powers I wasn’t aware of. It was a female guard, and one touch of her hand had me flat on my back.
A gun flashed in my vision. “Get up, and I’ll shoot!” another guard yelled.
Since I wasn’t any use to Phoebe—or anyone else—if I were dead, I stayed down.
Yet another guard yanked my arms behind my back and cuffed me. Then they attacked.
With my hands bound, I couldn’t protect myself. A flurry of kicks to my stomach, legs, and back came in quick succession.
“Enough!” I heard Heath shout.
The kicks kept coming. One caught me in the jaw and another across the nose. Both were going to be sore by tomorrow, but better than a solid knock to the noggin.
Another kick cracked a rib. Maybe two. “He’s on the ground. Now stop!” Heath hollered, shoving away the guard who’d gotten the last kick in. “He needs a medic, not a beating, you morons.”
Two guards wrapped their hands around my upper arms and pulled me to my feet. The movement caused a searing pain across my abdomen. Yep, definitely some cracked ribs. And my nose was bleeding profusely.
As bad as my situation was, my mind was on Phoebe. Where had they taken her? She wasn’t hurt, so I doubt she was headed to the medical ward. Which meant I wouldn’t see her.
The guards yanked me forward, and I limped out of the not-so-“great” hall. We’d moved through two different corridors and were entering another when I heard nervous laughter emerge from a side passage. “Thank you for accommodating us.”
I halted in my tracks.
Mom.
“Yes, we’re grateful for the opportunity to check on our boy.”
Dad.
They were here. They’d really come to see me.
Which meant… Wolf was telling the truth.
“You have to do everything you can to make sure they see you.”
I doubled over and groaned loudly. With a few broken ribs, I didn’t have to act like I was in pain.
“What the—” When the guard on my left tried pulling me upright, I popped up, banging the back of my skull under his chin. He went flying back. Then I reared back and kicked the other guard so hard he made a dent in the drywall.
My head was now officially pissed at me, but I ran, hands cuffed behind my back, in the direction I’d heard my parents’ voices. “Mom? Dad?” I yelled.
I rounded the corner to the side hall, but it was empty. Glass windows lined both walls, and as I ran past each one, I saw the rooms they looked into. They were small but nicely furnished. Definitely for guests, which explained why I’d never been seen them before.
I heard the guards entering the hall just as I skidded to a halt. Because there, in the room on my right, were my parents, who sat primly on a sofa across from Mr. Fletcher. And beside him, sitting with a smile on her face, was—
Lucy?
She looked at my mother. “Everything’s great, Mom. I’ve taken on a leadership role and help the younger guys out, just like in football.”
I watched in horrified fascination as my father responded, “That’s my boy.”
“Boy”? I looked at Lucy and my parents beaming back at her, and it clicked.
Lucy was making them see and hear exactly what she wanted them to—or rather, what Fletcher wanted them to. Her hallucination tricked them into believing I was perfectly fine so they would stop worrying.
Except I wasn’t fine. Not even close.
And neither was Phoebe, or any of the other inmates here. We were all in danger, and the two
people sitting on the other side of that glass needed to see it.
The guards closed in fast, so I threw my shoulder against the glass with all my force. The window splintered, and a loud cracking sound reverberated through the hall. “I’m here! I’m right here, Mom!” I yelled.
Both my parents’ gazes snapped to the window, and I knew they’d seen me when the smiles froze on their faces.
The guards were on me now, pulling me back away from the window. But it was too late. The door swung open and Fletcher walked out, his face murderous. “Bring him in,” he snapped at the guards.
As we passed by, he breathed into my ear, “You’ll regret this.”
The guards followed me in, and Fletcher slammed the door behind us before sitting back down. Lucy stared up at me, her eyes wide with fear—of me or for me, I didn’t know. I looked over at my parents to see that both of their faces had gone ashen.
It couldn’t have been easy seeing me like this, cuffed and bruised and looking like an actual criminal. Unlike their previous visit, there were no hugs and smiles—fake or otherwise. Now they were seeing what I wanted them to see.
My mother recovered first. “Griff, what is the meaning of this?” She had her give-me-one-reason-I-shouldn’t-destroy-you face on, and I was here for it.
“The situation with your son is highly regrettable,” Fletcher said, shaking his head. This should be good. “We had no idea he was mentally unstable. But as you can see”—he nodded toward the window—“we’ve had to restrain him for the safety of others.”
I scoffed. My parents worked with politicians on a daily basis. They could see through lies better than anyone. “Fletcher, that’s not going to work,” I told him.
“Do you hear the disrespect?” He clicked his tongue. “Frankly, Aaron and Kathleen, I know you’re as disappointed as I am. We had high hopes for this boy of yours.”
My father’s face said he wasn’t buying what Fletcher was selling. “The only thing I’m disappointed in is that I ever listened to you and the others regarding any of this. We just want Alexander back home with us where he belongs. He also needs to get back to school, so if you’ll just—”
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,” Fletcher interrupted.
No one interrupted my father. His face reddened and he stood, saying, “You see here—”
Fletcher snapped his fingers, and an instant later, I felt cold metal pressed against my temple.
Mom gasped, and Dad lifted his hands like the gun was being pointed at him. “There’s no need for this, Griff,” he said.
Fletcher sighed, like this was all an inconvenience to him. Then he leveled my parents with a caustic glare. “Unfortunately, there is. It didn’t have to be this way, but your son forced my hand.” I tensed, not only because it was true, but I had a bad feeling where he was going with this. “So, here is how things are going to work. You will tell no one what you have witnessed today. You will not go to the authorities. You will leave here and go back to your jobs and do them, just like you do every day.”
“Why on earth would we do that?” Mom said, her voice shaking with barely controlled rage.
“Because I will end both of your careers otherwise,” Fletcher stated.
“We don’t care about—”
“And I will end your son.”
My parents both visibly stiffened in their seats. The tension in the room was palpable. I didn’t think Fletcher would have the guard shoot me right now, but I knew he was dead serious.
Dad’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re a madman.”
Fletcher didn’t look offended. “People thought Hitler was a madman.”
“Hitler was a madman!” my dad shot back.
“No, he was a visionary. And, as he once said, ‘Leading people is a task that only champions can do.’ I’m trying to run a prison full of dangerous supernaturals—one of which is your son. It’s not for the faint of heart, I’ll admit, but it is for the greater good.”
Greater good? Hitler was responsible for the death of millions. Was that who Fletcher quoted like he was reciting Bible verses? Lord, have mercy…. we were in worse trouble than I thought.
“Let us take our son.” my mother said, her voice now deadly calm. “We’ll get out of your hair and never breathe a word of this.”
“No, Mom. Phoebe and the others are—”
“No deal.” Fletcher snapped his fingers again, and the unmistakable click of the gun’s safety pierced the silence. “Your son stays here where he belongs. Say something, he dies. Make a move to stop what we’re doing here, he dies. In fact, if you don’t walk out the door this minute, he dies.” Another snap, and goon number two walked to the door and opened it.
Slowly, my father extended his hand to my mother. She looked at it and then the gun pointed at my head before finally lifting her hand, regally placing it in my father’s palm.
My shoulders fell as I watched her stand by my father’s side. They stared at one another, a silent conversation passing between them.
They knew the truth. Had seen it with their own eyes. I had to believe they would find a way to help me. To help all of us.
“Mayor? Congressman?” Fletcher pressed.
My parents slowly moved toward the door. “You lay one hand on my son…” my father warned.
Fletcher didn’t hesitate. “Threaten me again, and I’ll have your son delivered to your home in a pine box.”
Mom trembled violently. At the doorway, she turned to me, tears in her eyes, and said, “We’re so sorry.”
“Stay strong, son,” my father said, his voice cracking.
“I love you,” I choked out, just as they walked through the doorway. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said that to my parents. I wished I’d said it more.
It hurt me to my core seeing them like this. I heard my mother’s sob, and then the snap of fingers brought my attention back to the threat at hand. But this time, the threat was behind me.
The butt of a gun struck the side of my head, and I crumpled to the ground. As I fell, a high-pitched squeal reminded me that Lucy was still in the room. I looked up through blurred vision to see her shocked face. It was the last face I saw before I blacked out.
But it wasn’t the last face I planned to see.
13
Phoebe
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it dragged on for what felt like days.
Sitting on the floor of an empty, windowless room, I hugged my knees to my chest. The tears were long gone, and at this point I didn’t care what happened to me. I’d saved Rocky, and that was all that mattered.
I wondered what was going on outside these four walls, though. Had Xander’s parents come to see him? Had he been able to? I hoped so. Whether Wolf was or wasn’t on our side, we needed them to be. People that powerful had a way of making things happen that others couldn’t.
Just when I was beginning to think Fletcher had forgotten about me, the door opened and he strode inside. “You will not believe the day I’ve had,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead dramatically.
I didn’t react, but I wanted to. Really? He’s had a rough day?
Instead, I sat rooted to the floor, trapped like a small animal within easy reach of a predator. Because that’s exactly what I was.
Mr. Fletcher looked down at me, his face serious. “We need to have a look at you, Phoebe. Time to get up and go.”
A snap of his fingers, and Warrick and Heath entered the room. Since I didn’t have a choice in the matter, I stood and followed Mr. Fletcher out the door.
We walked through the medical ward and made our way to an area of the prison I’d been in only once before. The night I found my dad, I’d run through these same halls, easily distinguishable by the rows of rooms filled with lab equipment. These so-called scientists and doctors spent their days studying us… and for what? I’d need all day—all year—and I probably still wouldn’t have a good answer.
Mr. Fletcher s
topped in front of a closed door and turned to me. The guards were at my back… as if I could go anywhere. “I expect you to fully cooperate,” he said. “The leader of this project is the best at what they do.”
He opened the door, and my heart stopped beating in my chest.
No. Not her. Not Dr. Venn.
I reared back out of instinct, smacking straight into the brick wall known as Heath. Suddenly, I felt calm, all traces of anxiety gone. Though I knew his power was behind it, I still succumbed and found myself walking into the lion’s den.
The evil witch of a doctor from Leavenworth was back. I’d have preferred an actual witch doctor to her any day. She was the one Mr. Fletcher said was “the best at what they do”? I hadn’t realized he was talking about torturing me.
Dr. Venn looked up from her clipboard, her eyes alight. I had a feeling she wasn’t happy to see me, only what I could do. “This is very exciting. I can’t wait to get started.”
Bingo.
“Take a seat, my dear,” Mr. Fletcher said, pointing at the chair in the center of the room.
I eyed the restraints. If I refused, Warrick would torture me and then they’d still do whatever they planned to do. Sighing, I sat in the chair.
After Warrick had strapped me in, Dr. Venn began taking my vitals. Just like the old days. The only difference was, Mr. Fletcher hovered nearby.
“Now, Phoebe…” he said, pulling up a chair.
I saw a momentary flash of annoyance cross Dr. Venn’s face and recalled from our previous encounters that she wasn’t a fan of anyone in her workspace.
Mr. Fletcher cleared his throat. “I want to know exactly how you healed Rocky in today’s match.”
I pressed my lips together. Either he hadn’t seen the tears, or he hadn’t made the connection—yet. That could work in my favor.
“I don’t know,” I said.
His face hardened. “You’re lying.”
Yeah, I totally was. Incarceration might not have turned Xander and I into hardened criminals, but it had made us proficient liars.
“I’m not. Rocky was dying. You were letting her die.” Just thinking about it caused a fire in my belly. No one—and I mean, no one—had intervened. Not before Hunter stabbed her in the chest, and not after. Mr. Fletcher only called for the paramedics after I’d healed her.
