Rapture

by Angelique Voisen

  “Free? Give me a break. Freedom is just an illusion.”

  I tore my gaze from the view outside, focused on Cel instead, who carefully kept her gaze on the road, to her gear carelessly left on the empty seat beside her. Black metal glinted at me. Unthinkingly, I lunged forward, grabbed the handle of the revolver. Hands shaking, I pointed the gun at Cel. She didn’t even flinch. Kept on driving as if it didn’t bother her that death stared at her right in the face.

  “Turn the car around. Back to the warehouse, or help me God, I’ll pull the trigger.” I angrily shoved the barrel against the side of her head. Any second now, she could let go of the wheel, make the car swerve, and I’d lose my hold on the gun. “Do you think I’m kidding around, bitch?”

  A crooked smile appeared on her lips, which only pissed me off.

  “Something funny?”

  “Oh. You’re capable of shooting me, and I won’t even try stopping you. Dying under your hands wouldn’t be that bad either.” Crazy bitch. “By the way, the safety isn’t even off.”

  Hands still trembling, I clicked the safety off. Cel could have disarmed me without blinking an eye, but she didn’t.

  “Why did you agree to help Kade? Don’t you dare lie to my face and tell me it’s because he promised you a small fortune.”

  “Dangle enough cash, and you can buy anything in the world.”

  “You don’t even like money, unlike Grayson. I don’t even think you like what you do.”

  Cel laughed then, and I didn’t even think she was capable of humor. “You think I did this for you?”

  “What does it matter in the end?” I turned on the safety and placed the gun back to its rightful place. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “One question. Why risk all to save a man like Kade?”

  “Because he’s my man, and someone has to love men like him.”

  “Never figured you for a fool.”

  “Says the even bigger fool who’s turning the car around,” I said.

  Cel muttered a curse in a language I didn’t understand under her breath, making me smile, but the gloating and self-satisfaction wouldn’t last for long. Convincing Cel had been the easiest part. Rescuing Kade from himself, tearing him from his bloody delusions of honor and self-sacrifice, would be a miracle.

  “Chase,” Cel said, rare impatience in her voice. I realized she had been calling my name for a while.

  “What?”

  “We’re here.”

  “Here?” I echoed dumbly, peering through the tinted windows to see had Cel parked the car in an unremarkable alleyway. “That’s fast. I didn’t even notice.”

  On either side of us rose two faded, red-bricked windows with boarded up windows. A dumpster with overflowing garbage stood at the end of the alley. The faint buzz of police sirens sounded in the distance.

  She must have chosen a spot a few blocks away from the Brotherhood’s main house. Cel grabbed her gear and got out. I numbly followed, feeling unprepared and way out of my league. My hands shook slightly, and I forced them to be still. I couldn’t lose my resolve right after making the decision to go after Kade, especially not in front of Cel.

  “Chase.” Cel’s callused fingers closed on my arm, the strength there surprising me.

  “I’m good. Just give me a second.”

  “If you want to get him back, it better be now.”

  “I know that,” I snapped. Shook my head in apology then pushed her fingers aside. “Give me a weapon.”

  Any other sensible person would show hesitation. Cel shrugged, withdrew the slender revolver from her shoulder holster, and offered it to me, palm up. I stared at the gleaming metal for a few seconds. Noticed she had the grips of the berretta modified. It was a smaller twin to the gun I pulled before. Lighter. I closed my fingers over the well-used grip, realizing this little tool of death had probably been baptized in blood and taken the lives of God knew how many.

  “Did you change your mind?” Cel finally asked. Her tone told me she was at the limits of her patience.

  Could one man, without any experience in combat, really make a difference? A sliver of self-doubt crept in. Shook the foundations of the reckless courage I managed to summon. Even if I somehow managed to wade through the chaos and locate Kade, could I convince him to change his mind after he didn’t even react when I made my confession?

  He didn’t even blink when I self-consciously uttered the three simple words I feared had been the by-product of his careful conditioning.

  Manufactured or real, what did it matter? I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I refused the golden ticket home and decided to cast my lot with my old captor and tormentor, with the man who possessed a singular way to show his brand of love and affection. What else could be said for me, who craved, embraced, and longed for his direction and dominance? I couldn’t even stand being apart from him for a few minutes.

  A therapist might call my condition Stockholm Syndrome. Label the words victim and brainwashed captive to me, but Kade and I are both conspirators, equally guilty and equally damned.

  “Teach me a crash course in basic shooting,” I commanded, glad my hand managed to stop shaking.

  Somewhat relieved, Cel did. She showed me how to hold the gun properly, unlock the safety, and pull the trigger. She even made me practice with the silencer on.

  “Need me to go over it again?”

  “No. I get it.”

  Theory was simple enough, but actually pulling the trigger on another human being was a different matter. It only took this one time for the lesson to sink in. I hated it, but I couldn’t deny the simple elegance of ending another life with such ease and efficiency. The longer I held the gun, the more I felt its weight and knew, with certainty, I wouldn’t be using it unless it was for self-defense.

  “Follow me. Don’t make unnecessary sounds or movements, and we’ll be fine,” Cel instructed.

  I swallowed a protest, made sure the safety was on before tucking the berretta in the inner pockets of my jacket, and nodded. She hugged the walls and shadows, hardly making a sound, so quiet my footsteps felt loud in comparison. Made turns and shortcuts through alleys similar to the one we parked and dubious side streets I never even heard of.

  Familiarity soon washed through me when the streets grew less narrow and cleaner, the walls noticeably painted with fewer death threats and graffiti. The streetlights actually worked. We had reached Reaper Brotherhood territory.

  Cel’s speed dropped. She gestured for us to stop and peered out the slit in the alley, then nodded at me for me to take a look. We switched places, and I poked my head out. Ahead of us, I spotted the unassuming converted industrial warehouse that the Brotherhood called the main house. Bright spray paint covered the walls of the large building that used to house construction parts, the mark of the Reaper Brotherhood stamped repeatedly, meant to keep outsiders out.

  Kade told me they bought the abandoned place dirt-cheap a decade ago. Now it housed apartments, meeting rooms, and a large hall to hold parties. Keith had sunk a large amount of funds and resources to wire its interior with state-of-the-art security, made it practically a fortress.

  The sight of it once made my stomach churn and line it with dread. The house was place of nightmares Marco lured me in with the promise of Rapture. My skin tingled at the mention of the drug. I dug my fingernails painfully into my arm, pushed out suggestive whispers. Even after living with Kade for half a year, the withdrawal symptoms never really went away. I pushed the thought aside and focused on the task.

  Seeing the police cruisers ringed the compound, I pulled my head back. “Are we too late?”

  “No. Did you see the officers standing around? They’re waiting for orders from their higher-ups or maybe for the DEA agents to arrive. Come on.”

  I followed Cel out, frowning when she led us a little further from the main house. “Where are we going?”

  Cel mutely pointed to my feet. Seeing the sewer cover, I looked back at her to see if she was joki
ng. No reaction.

  “Fuck.” I watched her push the cover aside.

  “I’ll go first. Use the rails, but be careful. They’re slippery.”

  “I’m touched you’re concerned about me,” I said, wary of the crooked line on her lips I guessed was a smile.

  She didn’t need to say the rest. Dying in the sewers because I slipped would help no one. After seeing her head disappear down the hole, I followed after. Scrunched my nose at the stink and watched for my footing. I let out a little sound of triumph after I got my foot off of the last rusty rung. Cel had a flashlight ready. I followed her through the narrow passageway. Tried my best to keep close to Cel, occasionally patting the wall for support and did my best not to think about what my feet stepped on.

  Cel took a left, and the path split into a small tunnel and a dead end. I stared at the rungs embedded on the wall for a moment.

  “Where does this lead to?”

  “One of the storage rooms. It’s an emergency exit. Few people know about it.” Cel went up first.

  I climbed as quietly as I could. At the last few rungs, Cel thrust a hand to me and hauled me up. Once back on my feet, I took note of my bearings. Cel pushed back the lid. Shelves filled with neatly labeled boxes rose all around us, boxes I knew contained R. Keith usually kept access to his stores to a limited few, but Kade once showed me to a storehouse like this from another facility owned by the Brotherhood in the city.

  “Only Keith and Kade can organize their drug cartel into a bloody neat and tidy factory,” I muttered, swallowing when Cel raised a finger to her lips. Hurried footsteps and vaguely familiar voices rose from a few shelves near us.

  “Fucking place’s surrounded by cops, and Keith’s gone crazy,” a gruff voice complained. Something about that voice bugged me, tugged at unsavory feelings and ghosts. “Won’t be long before they bust in with the DEA and take us all down.”

  “Keith won’t be happy we’re nabbing some of the shit with us,” said a nervous voice.

  “Who fucking cares? This whole place’s going down anyway. Marco says we get some shit, so we go get it. Besides, he says he knows a secret way out of here.”

  Every muscle in my body froze at the mention of Marco’s name. No wonder the first speaker’s name sounded familiar. Hard to forget the face attached to that voice, or the large rough hands that held me down while he licked his scarred lips and called me a dirty hole. Danny Santiago, Marco’s right-hand man.

  The other man’s name escaped me. Bernie or something, who was maybe a year or two older than I. Practically a green kid really by Brotherhood standards. He always looked away whenever they started on me. Only stood there, did nothing, no matter how much I pleaded or begged, which made him as bad as Marco and the rest.

  I didn’t realize my hand had reached for the gun or noticed the way my finger trembled over the trigger. Their voices came closer. My heart beat faster, and my head reeled with so much rage, it felt like it would burst.

  “Know them?” Cel asked in a quiet voice.

  “Marco’s men, members of his inner circle. We had some good times.” I shook my head, forced myself to crawl away from the past I couldn’t change or stop reliving in my sleep, even tucked safely in Kade’s arms. “Let’s go around and avoid them, less trouble that way.”

  Cel didn’t move from her spot.

  “Cel, they’re coming this way,” I hissed, tugged at her arm, began to panic when I caught sight of the profile of two men turning to our hiding spot.

  “What the—” Bernie began, didn’t finish.

  Cel must have had a silencer on her primary gun because there was no warning sound. I didn’t even see her raise her hand. Bernie’s entire face burst into a spray of skin, blood, and bone before his body tumbled on the ground like a doll. A little ragged sound of disbelief came out from my throat.

  “Fuck.” Danny didn’t waste another second.

  His hand whipped to the gun tucked in his belt. Cel moved faster. One second, Danny had his hand closed on his weapon. The next second, he shrieked. Danny’s gun clattered at his feet. I stared at his flailing hand and saw he was missing a couple of his fingers.

  Oh, God, Cel shot through his fingers clean. Severed them through the bone so neatly, you would think she used a pair of scissors.

  “You bitch,” he hissed.

  He moaned, reached for a second weapon on his belt with his good hand. I didn’t miss how his hand trembled, or the fact Cel could’ve easily finished him. It didn’t escape me, either, how little effort I put to stop Cel from shooting off his other fingers.

  “You sick mad bitch,” he howled, screamed loudly when Cel calmly shot him in the groin.

  A dark emotion swelled inside me. Triumph. Fierce and savage satisfaction at seeing Danny so hurt and finally feeling the agony he dealt to me and a dozen other boys and girls like me.

  “Aren’t we making a lot of noise?” I managed, licking my dry lips.

  Cel shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  Confused when she turned her back on her dying kill, I dared ask, “You’re just going to leave him like that?”

  Her cold, dead eyes met mine. Danny stopped screaming and starting begging. The shrill sound of his voice hurt my ears, scraped at my insides.

  “Please, just one more bullet to his head. Show some mercy. Even if he’s a heartless, sick son-of-a-bitch, we can’t leave him like this.” I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth.

  Jesus Christ. Where the fuck was this high and mighty morality sprouting from?

  “What is mercy?” Cel looked bored and disinterested again.

  I was suddenly angry. Pissed she couldn’t just leave Bernie or Danny alone, and why I couldn’t take complete satisfaction in seeing them suffer and dead. I wanted her to challenge me. Question me. Was she testing me? My resolve and how far I would go to save my man?

  I slowly drew out my borrowed gun. Did my best to ignore Danny’s shrill cries even though I knew we couldn’t afford to linger and debate what was right and wrong. The longer I stared at the piece of metal, the clearer Cel’s cryptic message became.

  If you want to be the judge, if you want to show mercy, then do it with your own hands. Be the executioner as well. Every action has consequences, Kade once said, and he was right.

  Head feeling lighter, I walked past Bernie’s corpse, careful to avoid the blood soaking through the concrete. Stood a close enough distance from Danny, ignored his sob of relief, and pointed the gun at his chest.

  Would I miss? Did I know what I was doing? Did I ultimately decide to show mercy because the old Chase, the pathetically naïve innocent young man, would’ve have done the right thing? Or because Kade believed the captive he fell in love with would never ever enjoy something as base as revenge?

  “What are you waiting for, bastard?” Danny hissed, lunged for my ankle, or tried to.

  I fired, expecting the gun to recoil, to feel the heavy weight of the weapon designed for murder. Instead, I felt nothing. Disappointingly empty, and I wondered if that was what Cel felt when she killed.

  “Let’s go.”

  I couldn’t read Cel before. Her expression remained unchanged, but I didn’t mistake the approval in her voice. I walked up to her, offered the gun back. She raised one eyebrow.

  “I’m not like you. I can’t, I mean,” I faltered, unsure how to explain or how she’d interpret my actions.

  What if she thought I was handing the gun back because I thought I was better than her? I wasn’t morally upright, not better than her or anyone. I was a simply a coward who couldn’t stomach violence or handle having the power of life and death over another human being.

  “Fucking hell, what’s taking you two retards so long? Marco asked for one simple thing,” a new voice said, sounding pissed.

  I whirled, frightened I never heard his footsteps coming. We had wasted too much time already, but I knew we were in trouble from the way Cel’s entire body tensed up. Grayson’s large frame came into view.
He had something like a mini Uzi resting against one shoulder.

  “Well, well. Look what I found.” Ignoring me, he looked at Danny and Bernie’s corpse, quickly lost interest, and focused all his attention on Cel. “Everyone said you’ll betray me in the end, but I said they were wrong. No matter how hard you try to domesticate a rabid dog, feed it, train it, fuck it, the bitch will eventually bite the hand that fed it. Guess they were right.”

  “Master.” I always saw Cel as fearless. An unstoppable force, a killer without conscience who didn’t even fear death, but now I knew better. She pushed something at me and said in a low voice, “Go.”

  I looked down at the hunting blade she shoved at me then glanced uncertainly at Grayson. He simply stood there, did nothing yet, but among all the monsters I met, he terrified me the most. The first time he lay his colorless gaze on me, what I saw made my entire skin crawl. Kade once said a beast lurked in every man, but the undisguised pleasure Grayson took in cruelty was beyond abnormal.

  “I can’t leave you alone with him.” I gripped her arm, suddenly terrified for the only friend I ever made, but she brushed me off.

  “Find Kade. I’ll be fine. He won’t get in your way. He’s only interested in me.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” I hissed back.

  Cel pushed me again and repeated, “Go.”

  Grayson finally looked at me, then smirked, his pale eyes glinting with undisguised amusement. “Go on, boy, unless you want to see a professional at work. Skinning another human being is one of the most wondrous things in the world to behold.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Chase

  Feeling sick, I stumbled out of the storeroom. Nothing I could do now, but pray to God Cel could finish off Grayson before he got his hands on her. I ran past empty corridors and locked rooms, flew past tiny cluttered groups of Brotherhood members too worried about saving themselves to see me, and headed straight for Kade’s room on the second floor.

  No guards. I turned the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. Seeing the lights were on, hope lit inside of me. A hand roughly gripped my wrist and pulled me in. The door clicked shut behind me.