Break Out (Supernatural Prison Trilogy Book 3)

by Aella Black

  I steadied my voice and then continued. “I just wanted her to get better, and she did. Maybe I made it happen by willing it?”

  “Nonsense.” Mr. Fletcher sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just because I wish for things to happen doesn’t mean they do.”

  What, like world domination?

  “Listen,” Dr. Venn interjected. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

  I scowled at the threat. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

  Fletcher sighed. “I’m really not in the mood to play around.”

  Without warning, he grabbed a small hammer from a nearby tray and slammed it down on my hand. I screamed as small delicate bones splintered.

  The pain from my hand traveled up my arm. Tears sprang to my eyes. I leaned my head back to hold them in place.

  “Go on, heal your hand,” Mr. Fletcher said.

  “I can’t!” I ground out. My hand hurt so badly spots dotted my vision.

  “Has she been able to heal herself before?” Dr. Venn asked.

  A pause. “Not to my knowledge,” he said. “Did she with you?”

  Dr. Venn sniffed. “Her body healed itself following each occurrence.” That was one word for it. She said “occurrence,” when what she meant was death. “But no, not otherwise. From what we observed,” she clarified. Then she grabbed my other hand and pricked my thumb.

  Mr. Fletcher looked annoyed. “We’ve already studied her blood cells.”

  “Not enough, it seems. If I’d been here—”

  “We have enough,” he snapped. “I want to know about this healing power now.”

  Dr. Venn looked pointedly at me. “We’ll need to study her using the ability.”

  Mr. Fletcher snapped his fingers. Oh no, not Warrick—

  “Heath. Come here.” Huh?

  Heath, the only guard who wasn’t unnecessarily cruel, stepped forward obediently. He was the one I’d suspected left us the notes, making it all the more disappointing when I found out it was Wolf. I had no idea why Mr. Fletcher would call for him when Warrick was standing right there.

  In a moment that passed so quickly I could have imagined it, Mr. Fletcher pulled a gun from beneath his jacket and shot Heath in the stomach. The guard let out a grunt of pain and fell to his knees, clutching his middle.

  I didn’t move or think or feel. I wasn’t even sure I could breathe. All I could do was stare in shock while blood began oozing between Heath’s fingers. Then his face twisted, and he toppled over onto the white floor.

  Mr. Fletcher turned to me and began unfastening the straps that bound my arms. “Go on. Heal him,” he said.

  My gaze rocketed back to Heath, whose breathing had become erratic. Blood was everywhere now. The one halfway decent guard in this place would die if I didn’t do something.

  But Mr. Fletcher wouldn’t let him die, would he? Heath’s powers were too valuable for that. Then again, Heath hadn’t stopped the riot before it started, so maybe his boss didn’t see the need to keep him around.

  I couldn’t risk it. Except…

  Giving away the source of my power meant tossing my one and only bargaining chip out the window. I couldn’t waste it. Not without trying something first.

  “No.” I balled my uninjured hand into a fist. “Not until you tell me where my dad is.”

  Mr. Fletcher heaved a sigh. “Not this again. Heath is going to die due to your stubbornness. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  No, I didn’t. But… “Take me to my dad, and I’ll heal Heath.”

  “That’s impossible,” Mr. Fletcher said curtly.

  My gut wrenched. “You killed him?”

  “No. He’s alive.”

  I searched Mr. Fletcher’s face for the truth, but he was impossible to read.

  “Take me to him,” I demanded.

  “I can’t do that, Phoebe”—he looked down pityingly at the guard—“and it appears Heath is running out of time.”

  He was right. Heath’s color and breathing indicated he wouldn’t last much longer. That, and his eyes were glazing over like Rocky’s did. Based on that, I was sure I had a few more minutes.

  I hoped so, anyway. It wasn’t like me to gamble with someone’s life, but my dad’s life hung in the balance as well.

  “At least let me see him,” I pleaded. “I need to see for myself that he’s alive.”

  Mr. Fletcher’s jaw tightened, and he raked his hand through his hair. “Fine. Five minutes. After you heal Heath.”

  “Done.”

  Without a second to lose, I kneeled next to the dying guard. My eyes were as dry as a bone, so I flexed my broken hand. The pain instantly brought tears to my eyes, but I needed more. Slamming my hand against the floor did the trick.

  I bent over, blinking rapidly over Heath’s bullet wound. After a couple of tears splashed in the right spot, I moved so I was directly in his face. I hoped it looked like I was checking on him. Dr. Venn and Mr. Fletcher would find out my tears could heal, but they didn’t need to know how they healed.

  Blocking their view, I leaned in closer when I realized Heath wasn’t moving… at all. I moved so close our lips were practically touching. When I felt the slightest trace of breath between his mouth and mine, I hoped and prayed it was his.

  Tears fell freely now, and a few dropped from my face into his mouth. Please let this work.

  I held my breath until I felt his expel in a shudder. I whispered, “Sorry I didn’t help sooner.” Then I straightened and collapsed against the wall, holding my throbbing hand.

  “I didn’t see that coming,” I heard Warrick mutter, a hint of a smirk on his face. From his angle, it probably did look like I was kissing Heath.

  The implications of his comment hit me. What if they thought Heath was helping us? What if he was?

  There was nothing to be done about it now.

  Within minutes, Heath’s color had returned, and he was breathing regularly again. His now steady gaze locked with mine, but he looked confused. “Thank you,” he said. It was as much a question as it was a statement.

  I nodded and then quickly looked away. It was safer for him if I appeared as disinterested as possible.

  “Tears,” Dr. Venn murmured. Typical of her to focus on the cure rather than the person who was cured.

  “Of course.” I could feel Mr. Fletcher’s gaze on me, so I turned to look at him. Sure enough, he was staring at me with a look of astonishment. “Why didn’t I see it before?”

  Dr. Venn rummaged around in a drawer and then produced a small vial. “‘We need to extract more tears,” she said, pulling the stopper.

  Was she kidding? I’d cried my eyes out twice today.

  She and Mr. Fletcher looked at me expectantly. “Well?” he prompted. “Go on. Cry.”

  I scowled. “I can’t just cry on command.”

  “You did with Rocky and Heath,” he said.

  I didn’t want to point out that I needed to feel something for someone to cry for them. Or be in extreme pain. Neither of those would end well for me.

  Growing impatient, he said, “Now, or I won’t take you to your father.”

  My heart stuttered. “You said you would if I healed Heath.”

  “And now I won’t if we don’t get some tears.” He crossed his arms. “I suggest you do it on your own before we give you something to cry about.”

  I swallowed thickly. In truth, my emotions were so close to the surface right now that it wouldn’t take much. All I had to do was think about the genuine possibility of never seeing my father again, and tears sprung immediately to my eyes.

  “Take them,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Dr. Venn hurried toward me and held the vial up to my face. Blinking, I let the tears fall.

  When she had what she needed, she put the stopper on and stepped back. “We’ll need to run some tests. See if we can create a synthetic copy.”

  Mr. Fletcher nodded. “You do that. But first…” He held out his hand, palm
facing up.

  Dr. Venn looked at his hand, and he made a ‘gimme’ gesture. Like a child.

  She handed it over, and I watched with disgust the way he caressed the vial. When he looked up at Warrick, there was a maniacal look in his eyes. “Take her to a containment room.”

  My stomach twisted. “You said you’d take me to my dad.”

  Warrick’s meaty hands wrapped around my arms, and he pulled me to my feet. “Wait, no!” I shouted as he dragged me away.

  Mr. Fletcher didn’t even look at me. It was apparent that the only thing he had eyes for was resting in the palm of his hand.

  Frantic, I looked over at Heath, who had managed to sit up but was still in rough shape. He needed to get to the medical ward, but did Mr. Fletcher care? No.

  He’d just played with Heath’s life like it meant nothing to him.

  Because it didn’t.

  So why had I thought my father’s life would?

  14

  Xander

  Phoebe wasn’t at the forced march this morning.

  She was missing, just like Venom and Anthony and God only knew how many other inmates who’d disappeared without a trace. None of them had come back, so I wasn’t sure why I let myself hope that she would. I should know by now that hope and disappointment went hand in hand.

  Regardless, I hadn’t been able to sleep last night. Part of that was because of Phoebe, but it was also because I’d been knocked out all afternoon and most of the evening. My sleep schedule was seriously messed up.

  At breakfast, I sat with the gang, stewing over yesterday’s events.

  “That was brave of you to go after Phoenix,” Birdie told me quietly.

  “More like stupid,” Rocky muttered under her breath.

  I glared at her. “You were there. Maybe you should have done something.”

  She scoffed. “Did you forget about the big honkin’ hole in my body?” Smashing her fork into the cafeteria’s poor attempt at pancakes, she shook her head. “I still can’t believe Hunter got the drop on me…”

  Cathy reached a hand to pat Rocky on the back, but she froze at Rocky’s death glare. Clearing her throat, she said, “It’s not your fault. Phoenix could never have lived with herself if you’d died.”

  I wasn’t sure that made Rocky feel better, but it was true.

  We all sat solemnly, picking at our plates while not making eye contact with one another. Birdie finally broke the silence. “What do you think they’re doing with her?” she said, so softly I could barely hear her.

  “I don’t want to even think about it,” Cathy said with a shudder.

  “What I want to know is why she didn’t do it before?” Tex asked, sounding genuinely curious. “I mean, it’s her power, so she can do whatever she wants with it. But I can think of a few times that would have come in handy.”

  My teeth clenched, though there hadn’t been a hint of accusation in his voice. If so, we’d be having a different conversation right now. And though I hated sharing Phoebe’s business, I couldn’t let our friends think she’d stood by and watched Oscar and Titus die.

  “She didn’t know,” I said. “The first time she knew was when she healed her father, and that was right after Titus was killed.”

  Rocky’s eyebrows bunched together. “She told us she found her father, not that she healed him.”

  That was all I would say about it. Phoebe and I had decided not to tell anyone about the healing tears, knowing what could happen. Which, of course, was exactly what did happen.

  My gaze snagged on a platinum-blonde head, and I stood from the table. “Be right back,” I said, abandoning my untouched breakfast.

  I slid in the seat next to Lucy, and she jumped. Good, she deserved to be on edge. I certainly was. “We need to talk,” I told her.

  She looked over at the guards nervously. Like I cared what they thought.

  I slammed my hand on the table. My voice shook along with it. “Why were you with Fletcher?”

  She ducked her head and fiddled with her fork. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said meekly. Oh no, that act wasn’t going to work with me. “Did he make you do it?” I demanded.

  Lucy nodded, her hand trembling.

  “How?” I asked. She looked at me, confused, so I spelled it out for her. “How did he make you pretend to be me? I didn’t see a gun held to your head.” Unlike me.

  “I tried saying no,” she breathed. “He… he told me he’d let me go when I turn eighteen. He said I’d be free.” The wistfulness in her voice was as clear as her treachery.

  “Lucy, that was a choice.” Controlling the volume of my voice was getting harder every second. “You wanted something, and you were willing to do anything to get it.” A cold suspicion settled over me. “Has he made you do other things?”

  She ducked her head again, hiding behind her sheet of hair.

  “Lucy, look at me.” My patience was shot. When she met my gaze again, I asked, “Has. Fletcher. Used. You?”

  She shook her head, but her eyes skittered away from mine. She was lying.

  Releasing a frustrated groan, I tried again. This time with understanding I did not feel. “Look, I know Fletcher is persuasive. And he always gets what he wants, one way or another. He wouldn’t have let you say no, even if you tried. I get that. Just please… what else has he made you do?”

  Tears formed in Lucy’s eyes, and they met mine. Finally, the truth. Except the truth often hurt, and this was no exception.

  “I didn’t want to do it!” she cried. “You don’t know how awful they were for me. I know it’s terrible to say, but I’m glad she’s not around so I can get some sleep again. I’ve been so tired and stressed, and all I want to do is leave this horrible place!”

  She sobbed in earnest now, and I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Lucy was the one giving Phoebe nightmares. Or hallucinations… whatever they were. I didn’t even want to think about what Phoebe had seen that made her lose so many nights of sleep, all because her cellmate wanted a shot at freedom she would never get. Not with Fletcher, anyway.

  “I can’t believe you,” I seethed. “Did you really think Fletcher would let you go? Because news flash, Lucy. He won’t. Ever.”

  She cried harder, but I couldn’t find it in me to feel sorry. Not after what she had done.

  A guard approached. Nodding at Lucy, he said, “Why’s she crying? You bothering her, Chief?”

  She sniffed. “No, uh… I was telling him how homesick I am.” Lucy implored me with her eyes to understand.

  And I did. I also knew that Phoebe never would have done it if the roles were reversed. She and Lucy might not have been on good terms, but she wouldn’t have intentionally hurt her.

  “Oh, well…” The guard shifted uncomfortably.

  “No worries. I was just getting up, anyway.” I stood and left the table without looking back.

  On the way back to my table, I spotted Wolf chatting up a female guard. Maybe it was lingering anger over Lucy’s confession, but red clouded my vision.

  Was Wolf flirting with a girl, while mine was locked away somewhere? He talked about some big plan, but that was yesterday. I even saw my parents like he asked me to, and not a peep since then. Now what?

  If he was really helping us get out of here, I needed answers and I needed them now. But to get him alone, I would need the help of a friend. One who should be in the know, anyway.

  I strode straight over to Tex and punched him in the face—but not too hard. The big guy went flying backward, arms flailing everywhere. Oops. Maybe it was too hard.

  Birdie and Cathy screamed, and Rocky swore violently.

  Tex scrambled to his feet. “What gives, man?”

  In response, I punched him again, this time in the stomach. He doubled over with a loud grunt.

  Cathy’s voice popped into my head. “Xander, what the heck are you doing?”

  Birdie stared at me like she didn’t even know me. I hated that look. But I’d explain later… hopefully. If t
his plan of mine didn’t backfire.

  As expected, guards approached us. Wolf, who I’d hoped would recognize my behavior was completely out of character, was the first on the scene. “What’s going on?” he hollered. Before I could spout off some half-baked lie, he said, “You know what? I don’t even care. Let’s go, you two!”

  Perfect. The guy might have been a rat, but he was a smart one.

  My heart slammed against my chest as he led us away. Some of it was the adrenaline, but fear was mixed in as well. So many things could go wrong, and now I’d roped Tex into it.

  Phoebe had taken a risk, though. It was time for the rest of us to pull our weight.

  When we reached what appeared to be an interrogation room, Wolf slammed the door. “You’ve got five minutes, Chief. What do you want?”

  “Wait, what’s going on?” Tex demanded. And rightfully so.

  Even though it would cost precious time, he deserved to know. I spoke quickly. “Wolf is working with Warden Will and others to get us out of here. He’s the one who’s been leaving us notes and is supposed to keep us informed.”

  My gaze flicked over to Wolf to make sure he’d gotten the message I was not happy with the radio silence. He scowled. Good. Message received.

  Tex stared at me like I’d lost my mind. And maybe I had. Trusting Wolf like this was a special kind of crazy.

  “Whoa, slow your roll,” Tex said. “Wolf is working with Warden Will to free us… how?”

  “Good freaking question. That’s why we’re in here.” I turned to Wolf. “We need to know what’s going on and how close they are to getting us out.”

  “Seriously?” he growled. “You pulled that stunt for intel I don’t even have?”

  My adrenaline plummeted to the concrete floor. And then I got mad. “You told me to see my parents, and that’s what I did. How can you not have anything else?”

  Wolf glanced nervously at the door and then back at me. “Word around the block, it didn’t go well.”