When Nothing Is All You've Got

by Kirsty Dallas

  Then there was Shadow; another sharp jolt of pain and anger stabbed me right in the gut. Shadow had betrayed me. I’d allowed the walls around my heart to soften, and for a moment, I believed he really did care. Mine . . . he’d called me, and I believed him. Shadow’s want for me didn’t extend beyond anything more than basic human needs, touch . . . sex. His possessiveness was fueled by nothing more than self-indulgence. I thought—no, I hoped—he would understand why I had done what I had done. There were people locked in the Underworld who didn’t belong here, innocents, like Regan and Grace. Instead, he had run to his master like the worthless dog he was. That had been hours ago, possibly as many as a full days’ worth, and Kingsley still hadn’t come for me. That confused me. If Shadow had shown him the map and explained how I was the rebel spy, I assumed my father’s rage would outweigh everything else. He’d kill me himself, slowly, and with plenty of pain. And yet, here I sat in my room alive and breathing. Hell, they were even feeding me. Perhaps my father’s greed won out; he’d rather watch me go down in the cage and make a hefty profit in the meantime.

  I took a deep breath and tried to expel the hurt from my chest. Shadow’s betrayal cut deep and hurt far more than anything my father and his soldiers had ever done to me, and yet the thought of ending him didn’t fill me with the same savage satisfaction I gained from the thought of my father’s death. That confused me more, and in an effort to calm the panic and hatred that threatened to consume me, I began to rock. Back and forth, back and forth, all the while keeping my gaze firmly glued to the door.

  Voices, heated words, then mumbling came from the other side of that steel slab, and I stilled, my fingers twitching with the need to reach for my knife. When the door was finally wrenched open, Dejohn’s solemn face greeted me.

  Sparing my guard no more than a hard glare, he kicked the door closed behind him and stood before me.

  “I’m proud of yuh,” he finally murmured after a long pause.

  My head tilted to one side as his words sunk in, but they didn’t settle into the place his pride would normally settle. Instead, they drifted aimlessly, trying to find purchase in a heart too damaged to feel anything other than pain.

  “Yuh didn’t get dead.”

  I shook my head slowly from side to side. “I would have killed him. I wanted to kill him, but Shadow stopped me.”

  My voice was rough and husky from lack of use, and my throat tightened with pain at the mention of Shadow’s name and the memory of the events in that dungeon.

  It was Dejohn’s turn to shake his head. “Do yuh really tink Shadow could have stopped yuh?” Dejohn sunk into my old chair in the corner, his body moving stiffly with age. Some days, he seemed to age right before my eyes; today was such a day. Worry lines carved a deep path across his face. “Yuh would have kept going until one of yuh was dead. Yuh stopped, yuh held yourself in check, an’ used yuh head.”

  Leaning back against the wall, I considered his words. He was right. I had found calm because I knew I wouldn’t be able to kill my father in that moment. I would kill him, but I’d have to be smart about how I did it. Shadow had broken through the haze of rage, but it had been me who recognized the futility of what I had planned in anger.

  “Do you know what happened?” I whispered.

  Dejohn’s eyes softened, and with a single nod, he expressed the same sorrow and heartache I felt at the thought of Regan’s death.

  “Yuh know what mi always wondered?” Dejohn leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and looked me right in the eye. “Why yuh never used da map.” You could have poured a bucket of ice cold water over my head, and I wouldn’t have reacted with the shock that Dejohn’s words brought forward. I gasped, my gaze glued to his. “So many times mi wanted to tell yuh,” he whispered. “Mi could not, an’ it broke mi. Mi had to watch yuh suffer.” His face was full of anguish. “Why did yuh not use da map?”

  “I couldn’t leave the innocents.”

  Dejohn sighed and let his head fall into his hands. “So selfless. Yuh make mi proud, but frustrated.”

  “Dejohn, are you working with them?” I asked. He replied with a simple sharp nod. “Why would you give me the map to leave when you needed me here?”

  His cloudy gaze met mine. “De rebels needed yuh. Mi needed yuh to live more.” He shook his head in frustration. “Mi gave yuh da map ’cause mi was selfish. Da rebels were afraid of yuh. Dey wouldn’t let yuh go.”

  I could see the torment playing over his features, but it was unwarranted. The rebels had used me, but that use was given freely. I asked for nothing in return but the innocent’s freedom, and I knew I would never be released from the Underworld. I may have been born innocent, but it had been a long time since innocence flowed through my veins. I was a killer, a risk, and without Dejohn’s help, I would never have the chance to leave.

  “Now, mi don’t know how to get yuh outta here,” he finally growled angrily.

  “How did you end up here, Dejohn? You’re a good man; you’re not like them.”

  I had never seen Dejohn’s files; according to the computer, he didn’t exist.

  Dejohn smiled and sat back. “Mi was born in Jamaica, an island off de coast of America. Mi loved mi Jamaica, but den mi met a fine lady . . . Beautiful blue eyes, white skin. Jenny . . . Mi followed her to America. It was hard to get work, mi a foreigner. Jenny’s brother said ’im had work for mi.”

  “Jenny was your wife?” The smile on Dejohn’s face caught me by surprise. His mouth had spread into a genuine, wide grin, and his eyes filled with life and longing that stole my breath.

  “She was more den mi wife. She was mi heart. When she died, she took mi heart wid her. She got sick an’ was in much pain. De doctors could not help her; she was dying. Mi gave her peace, mi helped her cross over. It was den Jenny’s brother told mi ’bout de rebels. ’Im danked mi for helping Jenny, for lovin’ her. Den ’im explained how mi could infiltrate de Underworld. Mi told de police mi killed mi own wife. Dey saw de body, den mi came here.”

  Dejohn was a man of sacrifice, and as much as he didn’t belong in the Underworld, I was glad he was here. “That’s not true,” I whispered. “You must have had some heart left, because you gave it to me.”

  Dejohn’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Yuh were just a baby when yuh mother left yuh at Kinglsey’s door. ’Im wanted yuh gone. No one would kill a baby, but ’im would, so mi took yuh. Yuh were nobody to ’im . . . Nada. But to mi, yuh was everyting. Yuh was mi daughter, not in blood, but in heart.” I barely noticed the tear that fell down my cheek. “Whateva mi had left in here,” Dejohn pounded a fist over his chest, “mi gave to yuh . . . and now mi gonna break whateva’s left.” My brow furrowed at the terrified look on Dejohn’s face. “Dey moved it forward. De innocents,” he explained. “Dey want to get de innocents out while yuh fight.”

  It made sense; most the Underworld inmates would likely be at that fight. It would be easier to move the innocents out while Kingsley and his soldiers had their attention focused elsewhere.

  “Smart,” I murmured.

  Dejohn abruptly stood. “No, not smart. Dis is stupid. Dat monster will kill yuh!”

  “Maybe, but at least something worthwhile will come of it.” I stood before him with my head held high and my shoulders pressed back. “Promise me you’ll get them out, all of them, everyone on that list.”

  “Of course I’ll get dem out,” he huffed with indignation.

  Unable to hold my gaze, he looked away, shame and guilt easy to read in his eyes.

  “Why did you ask me for a list? You know the people in here as well as I do.”

  Dejohn shook his head. “Mi enter dem into de computer, but mi not see dem like yuh, mi not know dem like yuh, mi could not know dem like yuh cause mi with Kingsley.” His eyes fell to his scruffy boots. “Yuh need to use de map, girl.” The words were whispered and packed with pain and anguish.

  “I have to fight,” I breathed.

  Dejohn’s eyes clenched tight, and he
gave a stiff nod. He knew what needed to be done for him and his rebels to succeed, and distracting Kingsley with the fight was the perfect opportunity, even if fighting Beast would likely end with my death.

  “The people of the world above cannot keep doing this; they can’t cage people with such little care. They must be made to see the grey in their black and white world.” Dejohn didn’t answer, he kept his eyes firmly shut. Gently, I laid both my hands over his that were clasped before him. His eyes sprung open at the contact, disbelief at my awkward, foreign touch plainly evident. “Promise me you will keep fighting for this cause; otherwise, history is just going to repeat itself, Dejohn. There will be another me, another Regan, more innocents. Make the above world see they can’t just throw away a life as they might their garbage.”

  A smile cracked the corner of his weathered lips. “Sounds like de words of a leader.”

  From behind his back, Dejohn pulled out a knife, and a sigh settled on my lips as he placed it on the bed beside me. My knife, he’d gotten my blade back for me.

  “I’m no leader . . . I’m nothing,” I murmured, my gaze glued to my weapon.

  Dejohn shifted his hands until they were rested on both of mine, his warm, calloused fingers holding more than just my flesh. My soul felt split open and raw right now, and Dejohn was the only thing holding me together.

  “Yuh wrong. Yuh Nada. Yuh everyting.” He pushed my fingers closed, forming my hands into fists. “Move like duh wind.” He pressed a kiss to one fist. “Protect yuh face.” He kissed my other fist. “Keep yuh eyes on de target.” His gaze met mine. “An’ don’t get dead.”

  26

  SHADOW

  Every inch of me throbbed in beat with the music; my body was a map of brutal pain and torture. Kingsley had taken more than his pound of flesh from me, and if I lived beyond this night, the scars would forever remind me how close to death I had come. To say he was pissed off with my devotion to his daughter was an understatement; he was livid that my allegiance had shifted to the child he loathed so much. He also suspected I knew who the rebel spy was. Leaning to one side, I spat a mouthful of blood to the steel floor and grinned. If only he fucking knew. It didn’t matter what they did to me, I never said a fucking word, and when he tried to carve the truth from my body, I laughed in his fucking face. Now, I swayed in a shit-box of a cage suspended above the arena, my jeans caked in blood, my chest and feet bare, revealing the depths of the sadistic king’s brutality.

  I glanced down to the packed floor and noticed a few familiar faces, some observing me with pointed curiosity, others so consumed by the pending fight they didn’t even notice my grotesque appearance. Squinting through swollen eyes, I glanced to the fighting ring, lit up in all its horrific glory. The animal Nada was to fight was held in place by two thick chains, connecting his wrists to the brown-stained floor. He was wearing jeans that had definitely seen better days, and nothing more. His tattooed body pulled taut with rippled muscle as he screamed and fought his bindings. He was far from lucid, and I was sure Kingsley’s men had drugged him to ramp up his adrenaline high.

  Behind him, secured to the steel wall of the cage, was a sword, a katana if my memory served me correct. On the opposite side was a machete, also secured to the steel wall. For the first time in cage history, Kingsley was allowing blades in the cage. My hands were wrapped around the steel bars of my own cage, and I pushed at them, the fury and fear that coursed through my veins pushing me fast towards panic. My cage rocked, and my gaze rose to the thick chain that had me suspended high above the arena floor. There was no way I was getting through that. The padlock on the door, though . . . my eyes caught sight of a thin, twisted piece of steel in the bottom of my enclosure. On a subtle groan, I dipped to pick it up, ignoring the knife-like pain that heated my chest. Then I moved to lean against the locked door. I wasn’t sure what I would do once my cage was open. Glancing to the floor below, I considered the drop. It was a don’t-be-fucking-stupid height to fall from, but the people below would help break the impact. The thought of crushing an innocent forced my gaze to carefully take in the crowd. There wasn’t a speck of white to be seen; the arena was completely white free. There were always a handful or more whites who came out to enjoy the festivities on fight night; it was uncommon to have such a huge event and not a single white in the vicinity. It was then it hit me: the rebels were going to take advantage of the distraction; they were getting the innocents out tonight.

  Breathing heavily, I considered the ramifications of such a bold plan. There weren’t many, but the one that came to mind had rage turn my wounds to nothing but a background noise. They were willing to sacrifice Nada for their cause, unless she had already used the map. Just the thought she might already be on her way out of the facility made me feel lightheaded with hope. Hope, that fucking word I hated so much, was suddenly an emotion I clung to with greedy fingers.

  When the music kicked up a notch and the massive steel doors were pushed outward with a heavy groan, the tiny, leather clad warrior who greeted the humid room was hard to miss. Of course she hadn’t used the fucking map; she cared too much for the innocents to protect herself.

  The crowd went insane as a crude path was formed to allow her access to the cage. She walked alone, no Regan, no Dejohn. Occasionally, she was jostled as she made her way through the arena, and it pissed me off. I wanted to be down there. I wanted to be the menacing force of protection that stood behind her. My hands clenched even tighter around the steel bars as I spared Kingsley a quick glance. His sick, twisted gaze was glued to Nada, a morbid grin on his face, as he watched his daughter walk towards what would be a brutal, bloodthirsty death.

  If he thought I was going to hang in this fucking cage and just watch my woman be brutalized by the animal in the ring, he was crazier than I thought. I slipped a hand out and used the wire to begin picking away at the lock. All those years living on the streets had taught me a trick or two.

  I carefully watched Nada as she reached the cage, slipping Kingsley and his crew a quick glance now and again to make sure they didn’t notice me picking the lock. When Kingsley’s voice filled the arena, I almost dropped the fucking piece of wire.

  “Good evening, inmates of the Underworld,” his booming voice rang out, and the music was at once lowered. The crowd immediately quieted. Only the sound of the bellowing animal in the cage broke the formidable silence. “Tonight I have something very special in store for you.”

  Kingsley nodded toward the arena, and my eyes quickly moved back to Nada, who was suddenly pushed up the stairs and into the brightly lit cage. I didn’t think it was possible, but Beast became even more feral, trying to surge forward to get at Nada. The chains pulled so tight I wondered how his fucking shoulders stayed in their sockets. Nada didn’t retaliate against the soldiers that pushed her forward. Four men remained warily at her side: two wielded long poles with Tasers attached to the ends, one man held a key, and another was probably there for moral support. From the shit scared look on his face, I didn’t think he’d be much help.

  “In the white corner, weighing in at one hundred and ten pounds, five feet, six inches of speed and agility, with a record one hundred and fifteen cage wins—the girl.”

  The crowd let out a roar and jostled against each other as excitement fueled by alcohol, NIM, and the promise of bloodshed turned them into crazed animals.

  “In the black corner, weighting in at one hundred and ninety-seven pounds, six feet, seven inches of brutal strength, and with no cage wins to date—Beast.”

  The crowd went even more insane.

  “Tonight’s fight is open to bets, and you have only a few short minutes to place yours before the spectacle begins. Let this be a lesson to those of you who inhabit Underworld,” Kingsley paused as the crowd again went quiet, “If you think to defy me and my law . . . you will die, painfully, and it makes no difference who you are, where you are from, or how irreplaceable you think yourself. In this world, my word is law. I.OWN.YOU!” He was scr
eaming by the end of his tirade, and the inmates below shuffled with unease. “Now, let the fighting commence,” he concluded with renewed calm.

  My gaze flew to the cage again, where I became lost in Nada’s steady, dark eyes. She had somehow found me, and the confused crease between her eyes made me want to explain everything that had happened since I had left her room. I shook my head with frustration; she could have been long gone from here, safe. Instead, she was about to face a fucking mad-man who almost doubled her in size. While the four soldiers stepped forward to tackle Beast into submission long enough to remove his chains, Nada stared at me. She had lost focus.

  Ignoring the lock for a moment, I stepped forward and gripped the steel bars.

  “Move like the wind, protect your face, keep your eyes on the target . . . and don’t get dead,” I roared out over the noise that practically drowned out my cries. I don’t know if she heard me, but she appeared to understand what I was saying. That mask of defiance and strength slipped back into place, and reluctantly, her gaze left mine as she studied Beast who bucked and writhed under the men trying to release him. With one arm free, the animal threw one of the soldiers aside. The guard’s body slammed into the cage wall with a sickening crunch. When his other arm was free, he lunged for another soldier, grabbing his shirt as the man tried to escape the cage. It gave the other two men the chance they needed to get to safety, and the door was quickly locked shut as Beast pulled the soldier back and slammed a fist into his kidney. Nada took advantage of the feral beast’s preoccupation and moved around the edge of the cage, keeping her eye on the fight taking place right in front of her. As the soldier fell to his knees, Beast gripped either side of his head and ripped hard in one direction, snapping his neck and almost decapitating him in the same breath. Slowly, Beast’s big, meaty head turned to take in Nada. Realizing she was now the center of the insane man’s sole focus, she ran. The soldier, who lay crumpled on the floor, was directly below the katana that had been hung just out of reach, and I knew Nada was going to use the listless body as a platform to reach up and gain the use of the weapon.