by India Kells
The place that interested her most were Panem’s rooms. While Finch’s private quarters didn’t produce anything of interest, she had high hopes for his servant’s rooms. Although it was difficult to snoop when the sneaky man could pop up at any time.
Her breakthrough was unexpected and offered by the head of security. She didn’t know his name, but her first impression of him was that he was like one of the mercenaries portrayed on TV shows, a man you could hire to do anything if you put enough money on it. Not much taller than her, he was solid muscle that he wore like a shield. And Ellie didn’t think that with his neck disappearing into his oversize shoulders, he could turn his gleaming skull right or left. He was a scary-looking guy. Not that he ever gave her a second glance when she worked in the employees’ section, which made up most of her day as Finch deemed it would be more humiliating for her.
One afternoon, she’d just finished scrubbing the floors near the back entrance when the scary chief stormed in, cursing and snarling. From what she could see through the windows, several of the guards were trying to repair one of Finch’s cars. Something must have gone wrong as his front was covered with oil from his stomach to below his knees.
Ellie winced imagining the extra work as he stormed in, leaving a trail of oil behind him. Her thoughts were sidetracked when the man started shedding his clothes. He undid his boots before kicking them aside, throwing his utility shirt in a corner and undoing his pants. Down to his boxers, he stepped out of the room, muttering something foul.
Ellie, still on her knees, didn’t know what to think of it or if she should remove his clothes when her eyes landed on his key chain. It held several keys, but only one fob. Could it be the one that accessed the basement?
Unsure, but guessing it could be her only chance, she crawled over and grabbed the blue plastic piece and twisted it. As she’d hoped, or maybe she had extra strength due to her desperation, but the little plastic hoop snapped. In the palm of her hand and covered in motor oil lay hers and Sam’s potential freedom.
Before she could think what to do next, she heard a door slamming shut and booted feet coming over. In a panic, she slung the fob under the bench, and it disappeared into a pile of old boots when the head of security came back.
“Don’t sit there like a statue.” He snatched his pants out of her hands, removing his belt, the keys attached to it, and his wallet before shoving them into her hands again. “Throw those away and clean my boots. You can leave them here when you’re done.”
And on that dismissive tone, the man left again, but Ellie still felt as if she’d run a marathon, and was glad she was still on her knees. Trembling threatened to overcome her, so she gathered the soiled clothes and threw them away before starting on the boots and the floor.
Every few seconds, her eyes went to the hidden fob, her brain not quite realizing what she’d done.
At some point, the men returned with a change of shift happening, and Ellie had to leave the area.
Paranoia assailed her. Had anyone noticed what she’d done? Was it the correct fob? Would the head of security notice the fob was missing? How much time did she have before he did?
With a litany of questions clouding her mind, finishing her tasks for the day was a challenge, but moving helped.
The temptation to return to the vestibule and retrieve the fob was strong, but maybe leaving it there was wiser. If anyone looked for it, it would appear as if it had broken and would be found again, exonerating her and Sam from any wrongdoing.
Before she could change her mind, Ellie made her way back to their rooms. Sam would soon be released from Finch’s clutches for the day.
In the small hallway, the basement door beckoned to her and she slowed. Maybe she could work out if the fob and panel were linked. Her hand trailed over the door and the movement under her fingers made her jump. The door hadn’t been clicked shut. She could get inside. Was it a trick? Sam had told her that apart from the outside area, he hadn’t detected any cameras inside the mansion, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. On the other hand, could she let the opportunity pass? If she could go downstairs and see for herself what was there without using the fob, it meant she could use it later.
Faced with this now-or-never opportunity, Ellie pushed the door. When she saw it wasn’t completely dark, her second thought was that maybe someone was already down there. The staircase didn’t allow her to see past a certain point, and she had to move. Carefully, she closed the door so it wasn’t completely shut and as silently as she could, made her way down the stairs.
The light wasn’t as bright as she’d first thought, but a low humming noise increased as she approached. When she turned the corner it made sense. The area was vast, she estimated the room was about a third of the mansion in size, and from where she stood, Ellie wasn’t certain what she was seeing. Row after row of shelves that were taller than she was contained small, square machines that emitted a whirring noise. Each one had a steady blue light to show it was working. As she moved in a circle, the air moved, propelled from small fans within the cubes. To the side, bigger industrial fans moved the air between the rows.
The setup was impressive, but Ellie was clueless as to what it was. The impressive amount of wiring was artfully arranged into bundles as thick as her thigh and led to another machine at the end of each row.
The more she walked, the more perplexed Ellie became. What she was seeing didn’t make sense. If only she could take a picture to show Sam.
The heat intensified as she went down the row, and so did the sound. Her ears buzzed from the fans, but as she was already there, she wanted to know if there were more doors or anything she could identify.
Her plan came to a screeching halt when a metallic sound came from a few rows over. Ellie dropped into a crouch, trying to detect where it came from and if she could see anything through the thin spaces in-between the multitude of boxes. It was impossible for her to be entirely certain, but she swore she saw someone moving.
Swallowing hard, hanging onto her nerves by her fingertips, it would be so easy to collapse into a puddle of fear and despair, but she reminded herself how far she had come. And deep down inside, Ellie knew what was down there would be of interest to Sam, and maybe hold the key to getting out alive.
Now, as a stranger moved through the rows, she had to face her greatest challenge, for Sam’s sake.
Chapter Twenty
It was increasingly difficult not to look at the clock and curse at how slow time was moving. In this mad situation, Sam found incredible strength in the routine, with the expectation of returning to their room. Their room. The concept brought him incredible warmth and strength and for the first time, even in this God-forsaken house, he looked forward to what came next, which gave him something to fight for and conquer.
Finch paced behind him on the phone again. Most of the time they were together he was on the phone, trying with a tone bordering on desperation to forge an alliance or renew his network of contacts that wanted nothing to do with him.
Sam always kept an ear out for useful information and could piece together identities even if he didn’t know if that knowledge would be worthwhile. With each passing day, he tried to find a way to contact Lazarus, but he only had access to such tools when his father was around, and he watched him like a hawk.
What was even more frustrating was everything he touched, everything he looked at was inconsequential information. The more he saw, the more he suspected that it was trickery, a veil of lies and deceit. Jamieson Finch was grasping at straws, with only the appearance of power—not that he wasn’t dangerous still. It was the money that made him so. If only he could dig deeper and see where all that money came from. Sam feared their time was almost up, and his mind was itching to escape.
Loud curses brought him back to the present, as Finch kicked a side table in anger. He was becoming more volatile, and that worried Sam as it could impact Ellie’s safety.
As the beautiful fairy filled his mind ag
ain, his eyes went to the window. The sunlight was dimming a little, which told him that he’d soon be able to leave for the night and return to the only light he’d ever known.
“You’re distracted again, my son. More and more I see your mind wandering to your woman. Be careful, Sam. I don’t have a problem with her warming your bed, but she can’t take your focus from me.”
Sam nodded when all he wanted to do was cringe and deliver a well-placed punch, but that would have to wait. “You have my full attention, Father.”
Finch circled him. “Don’t make the same mistake so many before you have. Don’t let her influence you, even with the pleasures of the flesh. Don’t let someone weaker than you take any of your control. Especially this Ellie McLaren. You should always be careful of women harboring a secret.”
Every muscle in Sam tightened, and he prayed it didn’t show as Finch would see it as a weakness and pounce on it like a hyena. Instead, he waited a few seconds to make sure his voice was steady enough before giving an answer that would satisfy his father. “It’s not as if I talk to her that much. But she doesn’t seem to be hiding any secrets from me.”
Even though he didn’t turn, Sam could feel Finch move and open the liquor cabinet. One thing that had changed was how much his father drank. Sam had hoped that it would get to the point where he’d be drunk enough to let something slip, but it hadn’t happened yet.
When he returned, Finch had a glass in hand and put one beside Sam in an unusual gesture. “I think you’re getting too attached to the woman. I was thinking of offering you more options, but you’re like me. Stubborn, determined, only willing to change your mind if confronted with cold, hard facts.”
Wary, Sam was tempted to take the glass of amber liquor, but again, everything Finch did was a question of tactics and far from being straightforward. Maintaining a clear head was critical. That’s why he had to sound detached, even if he felt anything but.
“I have to admit that I find the girl interesting, and sweet in many ways. I even thought of testing her myself, but I find her too fiery. Also, I don’t like people who dwell on the past as she does.”
Sam turned to his father with a frown, ignoring the taunt to focus on something else he’d said. “Dwelling? What do you mean?”
It was clear by his quick grin Sam had given Finch an opening he’d use to his advantage. “I guess you didn’t do a complete background check on her, but as someone who is of some importance to you, I did my own investigation. It’s tedious work, but I prefer to know who is living under my roof. Did you know she never knew her parents? She was abandoned at birth and never adopted. I know she lied about it, said her parents weren’t able to take care of her, but that’s bullshit. Isn’t that somewhat interesting?”
Even though he knew he shouldn’t answer, Sam’s heart went to Ellie. Even if a part of his life had been hellish, at least he’d had the anchor of his tribe to start him in life, and then the fellowship of the army. He may have felt alone in his pain, but he was never lonely. Not like Ellie must have felt as a child. “It only revealed she was alone. Not much more.”
Finch walked around him as if circling his prey, Sam recognized that as his way of playing with him. “At least she was determined not to end her miserable life and instead chose to study. Dead-end jobs and a miserable life, but there are so many caught in that vortex I wasn’t surprised to see another one. After all, my son is a capable man who’d be a catch for anyone wishing to escape their squalor. But I guess even you would’ve seen that coming.”
Sam had heard enough and with what remained of his control, started shutting down his computer. Finch was pouring himself another glass and Sam hoped he could make a quick exit. A wish that was squashed by a hand on his shoulder keeping him seated, and another pushing the glass he’d ignored toward him. “Sit and drink, my boy.”
Another order he had to follow. As his fingers closed around the glass, Finch’s grip loosened, becoming a caress. Sam swallowed bile when his father kneaded his shoulders, running his fingers through his hair. His body remembered too well where this had led to when he was an innocent, vulnerable boy. It messed with him on a cellular level, scrambling his brain, his memories, his sanity. Only thoughts of Ellie pushed back against it all, preventing him from returning to that dark place he’d fought for so long.
Oblivious, Finch never broke contact. “I found a psychiatric evaluation on your little Ellie, one that was done before she was released from the foster home when she became of age. It’s interesting to be able to pick your way through someone’s brain. Especially her. She was diagnosed as independent and an introvert, but with a strong savior complex. Do you know what that means, son?”
Sam drank that liquor, welcoming the burn.
“It means she chose the perfect line of work don’t you think? Trying to save people, over and over again with each call she took. Until a few weeks ago.”
At last, Finch stepped back, allowing him to relax a little, or was it the liquor? Or maybe his mind was finally disintegrating from all the stress and fatigue.
“Another interesting bit of information was in her file at the call center. Did you know on December thirty, a man called 911 seeking help, wanting to end his life? Your little Ellie kept him on the line while the police tried to track him down. Five hours she stayed with him, pleaded for him to stay alive, and just when she thought she’d saved him, he blew his brains out on the other end of the line. As per her boss’s report, it broke her. She was put on administrative leave and had to report for an evaluation because her boss thought she was suffering from depression or worse. I’m sure you know what that means.”
Sam tensed and this time got to his feet, wanting to run out and hear more at the same time. “What are you saying? Stop talking in riddles and just spit it out.”
“How does it feel to be considered her pet project, my son? Your dear Ellie is more twisted than you think if you believe she likes you only for your good looks. What do you think happened when you called, and she detected your distress? Because I know you had every intention of ending your life. I’d had someone following you for a few days, and their report couldn’t have been clearer. And then you made that call. Don’t look so surprised. Do you think I wasn’t aware of your plans, ready to intervene if need be? But another white knight jumped in and did all the work for me. Ellie McLaren found her own reason to live when she heard your voice. Another person to save and, oh yes, she’d do anything to save you, but does she really love you? If I were in your shoes, I’d have doubts. Kidnapped, in danger, your dear little Ellie certainly needs you to save her, but once you’re both safe and back in the real world, and the risk of you hurting yourself is gone, what will remain? I was curious and what I found confirmed it. She can’t help but save people in distress and once her little stray is all good and well, she just leaves them. She’s beautiful yet alone. Didn’t it ever occur to you that there was something wrong with her? Ellie can only bond with someone she has to save. Don’t you see that?”
Lies, all lies. The man couldn’t help himself and that would only stop when he drew his last breath.
Another gulp of alcohol made Finch sway and retreat, and Sam took the opportunity to leave.
He needed some distance between him and Finch... and everything else.
Sam only realized that he’d stepped outside when the cold made his skin tingle. The air was freezing but he didn’t care. He felt like a caged lion with no escape.
The sun was getting lower, almost completely hidden behind the pine trees, but it was still light enough to know the guards were nearby, looking at him, assessing him.
For the first time in weeks, Sam felt close to the tipping point. He wanted to scream and hit something, but it was the dark void of despair that scared him the most, the one he’d thought would never appear again.
All of him wanted to run to Ellie, but Finch had planted a seed, a poisonous one that had taken root, and Sam didn’t know if he’d ever be able to pull it out.
Chapter Twenty-One
How she got out of the basement unnoticed, Ellie didn’t know, and she didn’t want to question it.
The last hour had been pure hell, her heart pumping in her chest with such force, she swore it would burst, killing her on the spot.
At one point she’d caught a glimpse of a man who seemed more interested in each and every one of the boxes. He carried a tablet in his hand, his eyes lost to what he was examining. In a slow dance between him doing his work and Ellie trying her damn best not to be seen, she tried to gather whatever bits of information she could about the place. It was only when he’d completed his work, whatever it was, and shut off the lights that Ellie risked climbing up the stairs and getting back to Sam.
When she finally entered their room, night had fallen, and none of the lights had been switched on. It was unusual for Sam not to have returned by this time.
Shaky, Ellie switched on the light and tried to gather her wits so she could coherently explain the situation. Washing up quickly and changing clothes, Ellie was just exiting the bathroom when Sam stepped inside.
Even though she wanted to tell him what she’d discovered, the look on his face, withdrawn, dark and edged with pain, stopped her. Since they’d been forced into captivity, this was the first time she’d seen him looking that way. “What’s going on? What happened?”
She’d never seen Sam with that expression on his face. When she almost leaped at him, his slight movement back told her to keep away.
Sam only shook his head. “I need a shower.”
It was how his silver eyes avoided glancing her way that squeezed her heart with fear. “Wait!” He stopped but didn’t turn to her, and Ellie knew deep down that if she pressed him, he’d only shut down more. So instead, she decided to reach him another way. “I went into the basement.”
