by Anne Russo
The comment stung. Ian recoiled, shaken. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he snapped.
Mei laughed out loud. “Oh, Ian, you’re making this way harder than it needs to be.”
“Just get them home,” Ian commanded, unable to stand her pitying look for a second longer. Before she could protest, he spun, and headed for the street, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the faint but obvious disappointment he’d caught in Mei’s eyes. Adam’s heated words, the taste of his lips still lingering on Ian’s own, haunting him with every step as he hurried away, disappearing into the night
* * * *
It had been two days since their encounter at the club. And in that time, Adam had avoided Ian at every turn, not that Ian went out of his way to seek him out. That night, Ian drove around until dawn, attempting to clear his head. By the time he returned, everyone was home and in bed. Ian retreated to his room and straight into the shower in a vain attempt to wash away the night’s events. Not that it worked; he’d laid awake for hours berating himself.
Ian was chastising himself even now as he sat through his and Katherine’s weekly dinner. Ian had been giving her a rundown of the group’s current activities when she stopped him.
“I hear Adam went on an improperly supervised extrusion last weekend,” she led off with, out of the blue.
Ian stiffened, hoping to gauge how much she’d heard without giving the game away himself. “It was a minor rebellion not even worth mentioning.”
“Anything involving my son, or you—is worth mentioning.”
“Of course,” Ian answered, a shade too quickly.
“Why?”
“Pardon?”
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing I can think of,” he answered. “He’s a little too soft, that’s all.”
“How so?” Katherine asked, calling the butler for more wine, gesturing with one red fingernail.
“He’s sensitive, takes criticisms to heart,” Ian explained, his gaze on the man refilling their drinks. His expression a faultless mask of indifference as if he wasn’t even there or hearing their conversation. Still, as much as the help gleaned of their activities, they made a habit of not discussing business, using code words instead when in their presence.
“So, what do you suggest we do?” Katherine indicated for the attendant to pour the wine and leave.
Ian waited until he left the room, busying himself, pushing his dinner around his plate. Overcome with a surge of disgust, for Katherine, the surroundings. The elegant trappings of luxury that didn’t disguise the rotten core at its center. The evil, black things bought and paid for with blood money. A fool sitting here as she set the scene, forcing him to play the part that she had written for him. He fought the urge to flip the table, sending fine china flying. Imagined the brilliant wine stains ruining the carpets, those ridiculous curtains.
“Ian?”
He glanced up, realizing he had taken too long to answer, as she peered up at him, waiting for him to speak. “Yes?”
“Don’t you agree? Something ought to be done with Adam?” Katherine’s calmness made him uneasy. “Something more drastic, perhaps?”
Ian pushed the rest of his food away. What few bites he had managed rose in his throat. He reached for his water, draining its contents in two sips. “How drastic?” Ian asked, swallowing hard around the question.
Katherine took her time explaining as he set his glass aside, failing to hide his shakiness.
“Oh, not that,” her inflection sharper now, eyes cutting through him, daring him to challenge her. “Something fitting the occasion.”
“Fitting?”
“Such a shame, it’s been a long time since we had someone so reluctant to get their hands dirty.” Katherine sniffed the air as if the sentiment itself offended her.
“Is he ready?” But the question was beside the point, whether Adam was ready. At this stage of the game, he needed to be.
Ian waited as she sat back, mulling over the matter. Katherine drew in a sharp breath before replying, “No special treatment, right?”
Those words filled Ian with apprehension. Ian shrugged and hoped she took the gesture as indifference on his part and not a vain attempt at keeping at Adam at a distance. He’d never had this problem with a recruit before, where the lines between student and teacher blurred. Where enemy and ally became without meaning, he’d trained him, allowed him in more ways than he’d ever admitted. So, Ian knew he hadn’t mistaken the quiet, steely determination he’d perceived in Adam more than once. There was an instinct there that existed, and despite Adam’s protests to the contrary, he had it in spades. But, to Ian’s disappointment, he also had the same stubborn arrogance that broke them all in the end.
“No special treatment,” Ian agreed.
“Well, it’s decided. Here’s to finding out what that son of mine is made of,” Katherine proclaimed, raising her glass in a toast.
Ian returned to his plate, cutting his food into minuscule bites, avoiding her self-satisfied smirk while he ate.
* * * *
Adam was in the gymnasium practicing his nonexistent knife throwing skills with Mei.
Regan and Vince sat on the sidelines, offering the occasional bits of advice. Not that they helped any. Frustrated, Adam tried over and over to hit the target and missed. Meanwhile, their cheerleaders shrieked in exaggerated fright each time the blade failed to sink. Instead, it bounced off and went flying, though, in his defense, they were landing nowhere near the pair.
“Now watch me,” Mei explained after yet another pathetic attempt.
She balanced the weapon in one hand and spun it back and forth. Until the only thing Adam could follow the silver blur left in its wake. “Think of it as an extension of yourself, like throwing a punch,” she clarified. “All the way through.”
Her hand shot out, sending the knife sailing through the air. With a satisfying thud, it sunk straight into the bullseye. Vince and Regan clapped and cheered while Mei bowed with a flourish and blew them each a kiss.
“You make everything look effortless,” Adam remarked, shaking his head, dismayed.
“That’s the point.” She rolled her eyes as she turned to him. “That’s what practice is. Over time it becomes second nature.”
“Now you sound like Ian.”
Regan chuckled from the sidelines. “I wonder why,” she giggled, and Vince quaffed in response.
“And you’d be wise to listen to him,” Mei replied, more serious now. “He’s saved my ass more times than I can count.”
Speaking of—
The door opened, and Ian stepped into the room. On the surface, he appeared calm, nonchalant even, but Adam sensed something was wrong. Ian didn’t bother to acknowledge the others. His eyes zeroed in on Adam, making him uneasy for no reason he could decipher.
“Come with me,” he told Adam in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Why? Where are we going?”
“Just get your stuff and let’s go,” Ian continued, ignoring his questions.
Out of the corner of his eye, Adam caught Regan and Mei, sharing a tense glance, one that did little to set his building anxiety at ease.
“What’s up, Ian? Is something wrong?” Mei asked, but Ian cut her off.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he responded sharply, turning back to Adam. “Come on now.”
Adam gave Mei one last pleading glance, her expression sympathetic as they locked eyes. He had no choice but to follow Ian through the hallway and to the elevator.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Adam asked as Ian hit the button for the lowest level. A floor Adam wasn’t allowed access.
Ian continued to ignore him as the doors whooshed open, revealing a long concrete hall. On both sides were several steel doors leading to a larger bolted one at the end of the corridor. Adam took a breath before beginning the trek, much like one’s stroll to a death chamber. The observation stop
ped him in his tracks as he screwed together his courage,
“Do I get a hint?”
“No, but if you do what I say you’ll be fine,” Ian answered as his gaze swept over him. A lingering look, Adam couldn’t decipher.
Ian stepped inside the room sideways, holding it for him to pass. It was pitch black and freezing as the door swung shut behind them.
Adam swiveled around in a panic, trying to gauge where Ian was as the light switched on overhead. He blinked, taking in a cell, stark and barren except for a metal chair. And the squirming prisoner tied to it, beaten and bloody and restrained.
Adam stunned to silence as Ian greeted their captive. Ian leaned in, hands digging into his victim’s forearms. His rigid focus frightened Adam. There was no emotion, no inflection, nothing alive in his tone as he spoke.
“Well, it appears our time together has come to an end. Can’t say I’m broken up about it. But you understand, right?”
Ian turned over his shoulder to address him as his prisoner pleaded through his gag for mercy. “Get over here,” he ordered.
Adam jumped at the command’s sternness but couldn’t make his legs work to obey him. His body was shaking with mounting adrenaline. Nerves pulled so tight his entire body a tether waiting to snap. Ian met his horrified gaze, his own so detached Adam swore he was in this room with not one stranger but two. In that drawn out space, Adam came to terms with the truth. His veritable nightmare had only begun.
“Now,” Ian commanded, expression murderous as he stalked forth, pulling a handgun from the back of his jeans, shoving it into his hand.
Adam turned the weapon over, marveling at his heaviness. He glanced up at Ian, begging for mercy with his eyes, but Ian ignored his silent plea.
“One bullet. Do it quickly.”
A request. It floored Adam that Ian saw it as such, a mere request. The simplistic cruelty of it took Adam’s breath away. He’d been a fool. How could he not have grasped that he’d been hurtling toward this task since Ian brought him here?
“No,” the word a single fraught entreaty. “No, Ian.”
Ian remained unmoved. Motionless save for the tight clench of his jaw—a minuscule raise of one dark brow. “I won’t tell you again,” his gaze narrowed, lips pressed tight.
Adam refused to meet Ian’s rigid stare. His gaze skipped around the sparse room before landing on their captive. A short, middle-aged, white man. Soft and flabby, with a shiny bald head and wearing an expensive three piece suit. One soaked in sweat and blood. Adam struggled to shake the image from his mind, frantic. He wasn’t naïve enough to think this man, whoever he was, was innocent. Still, Adam wasn’t like the rest of them. Regardless of how hard they’d tried to strip the last vestiges of his humanity from him. This was one line Adam vowed he’d never cross, no matter the consequences. Or so he thought until Ian spoke.
“Allison Shepherd.”
The name a jolt to the senses, Adam froze, recoiling away from Ian. Only half-aware of lifting the weapon upwards until it was level with Ian’s chest. The move didn’t frighten or slow Ian down in the slightest.
“She’s engaged now. A lawyer—”
“Shut up,” Adam seethed, pressing the weapon into his chest, his hands shaking.
“Got over you quick, didn’t she?”
“I said, shut up!”
“Such a shame if something were to happen to her before the big day—”
Those malicious threats stung. Adam forced the tip deeper; his body rattled with unconcealed rage. “Stop it! You wouldn’t dare—” but even as the words tripped over his tongue, Adam recognized their absurdity. He’d learned enough of Ian, Katherine; they’d stop at nothing to further their agenda.
“Here you are, still burying your head in the sand, trying to pretend this isn’t happening.” Ian’s tone laced with disappointment. “This is happening, Adam. You either put a bullet in this man’s head, or I put one in your fiancée. Or Tim Martin’s fiancée if you want to be technical.”
Adam managed a few panicked steps backward. “Katherine, my mother—”
“Your mother?” Ian replied, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Your mother has made it known you’ve been coddled long enough. Trust me, Katherine is not that woman. This is not that place. You have two choices. Pick one and do it now.”
“You’ve forgotten a third,” Adam replied with as much conviction as he could manage. He leveled the gun to his head, pressing it to his own right temple. The shock of panic that flashed across Ian’s face only further encouraged him. Adam dug into flesh hard enough to hurt, finger on the trigger, itching with the desire for release.
“I mean it. I’ll kill myself and save you the trouble. Swear to God, I will.”
Salvation nothing more than a slight bit of pressure. And everything on this miserable planet would have ceased to exist. And he’d have done it, had a look in Ian’s eyes not stopped him cold.
“Don’t.”
Adam blinked, brow wrinkling as he tried to gauge his sincerity.
“I’m serious, Adam, don’t you dare.”
Adam came apart at those words, violent sobs tore forth, a flood. He wept, a desolate, broken sound. Struggling for breath, he couldn’t quite catch as it fluttered beyond his reach, hot tears streaming, blurring his vision. His panic accompanied by a twinge of embarrassment at how pathetic such a display made him appear in Ian’s eyes. Or even what their captive thought over such a sorry scene. A sorry would be killer. If he even cared at all as his forthcoming demise weighed heavily in the air.
“Listen to me. This man is not worth even one tear. Not one.”
Adam paused, choking back sobs as his hysteria abated some. As he found in Ian’s eyes not the disregard or pity expected but something he might consider concerned.
“I can’t—please, don’t, don’t make me—”
Ian surprised him by pulling him close by the back of the neck with both hands, gentle, but firm. “You can. You have to. Now get it the fuck together. You’re better than this.”
“No—I’m not that person. I’m not—”
But Ian was unshakeable in his conviction that this was a matter of integrity, not morality. For Adam, he had no such pains reconciling his stance. Shades of grey did not exist in matters of life and death. Only right and wrong.
Still, Allison’s face beckoned him to reconsider. For her, a voice within drove home. He had to be strong for Allison, his mother. He had to protect them, regardless of the cost. Secure knowing that somewhere in the world beyond this hell, they continued, safe. For that alone, Adam might have agreed to cut out his heart. But not someone else’s.
“This isn’t who I am—” He tried anew, but Ian dismissed his attempts.
“I know, but it has to be. Do you understand me? You have no choice, Adam.”
Adam searched Ian’s worried expression. What he’d hoped to find there he wasn’t sure, but he clung to it, secreting it away in the depths of himself—the faint glimpse of fear below the surface. A glint of truth which Adam anchored himself with, resigned to his fate.
“You have to,” Ian stressed, teeth gritted. “Now, don’t make me repeat myself.”
Adam released a shuddering breath, nodding as he eased out of Ian’s hold. He straightened, wiping the tears with the back of his hand before taking a cautious step forward. Another step, two, and each step stiffened his resolve as Adam continued, reluctant but determined.
Into his past he fell, recalling images of Allison’s face throughout their time together. Those memories locked away inside the dark for safekeeping.
Before him, the prisoner made a sharp whining noise through the gag, eyes bulging with panic, pleading for mercy. But Adam had none left to offer as he lifted the gun and aimed, deadening his heart to his plight.
“Forgive me,” he whispered as he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 10
Three months later
Another night, another nightmare; Adam searched, palms outs
tretched in a bleak, black landscape. A ceaseless void submerging his entire body, drowning him. Panic built as he stumbled onward, hesitant and blind. Aware now of a tiny pinpoint of light opening somewhere in the unknown distance, color formed until blinding white beamed brilliant crimson. The light of an enormous door painted blood red, rose out of the never ending dark.
Adam fell against it, a door with no handle, no lock. The surface was frozen steel under his hands. He leaned against it, his only anchor. Helpless as it grew brighter and brighter, now retreating from his reach, he couldn’t move. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Adam tried again and again until, at last, a name unraveled from his lips. A name he shouted into the abyss. As the blackness weighed heavier, crushing him under the weight of its vast emptiness.
“Ian,” he called. “Ian, help me! Help me, please!”
A thunderous bang! The world exploded, plunging him head first into wakefulness. His heart lodged in his throat as he lurched out of sleep, struggling for air. In the distance, a series of low booms, a passing thunderstorm. The nightmare half-remembered now, retreating as icy dread persisted. His anxiety kept him company as the minutes crept toward dawn. He counted his breaths, listening in the dark as the thunder quieted.
Every morning much the same now, Adam awoke fitful and anxious. During the day, the group kept him busy enough to forget. Adam threw himself into the routine desperate for the distraction it provided, working out for several hours, followed by solitary runs around the grounds. Afterwards, Adam practiced his hand-to-hand training with Kalifa, who Ian assigned to him. The first few days far from ideal as he struggled to decipher her and her ever present companion, Hector.
Hector, more often than not, accompanied her but stood off to the sidelines, watching him. He sometimes conferred with Kalifa in the room’s corner, but never said a word otherwise. Kalifa herself spoke only to correct his form or criticize his technique. Still, she taught him well, further sharpening the skills Ian had started him learning.
Adam also spent more time with Mei. Mei, unlike Ian or Kalifa, made no real effort to push him beyond his comfort zone. She continued being a calm, caring friend first. Thanks to her kindness, he had improved by leaps and bounds. It was Mei who helped guide through his revulsion at handling firearms. At first, reluctant to be near a gun again, let alone hold one, fire one, and possibly kill someone with one again. A sobering decision, but one Adam had no choice but to make. If he wanted to survive, he needed to learn to pull the trigger and fire, so he didn’t miss his target.
