Release In The Dark (DARK erotic romance series)

by Natalie Kristen

  Kylee is kneeling on the platform, gripping Dell's wrists. “You take his legs,” she pants.

  Together, we lift his body off the platform and carry him across the floor. At the window, as we pause for breath, I gulp and ask, “Will anyone...will anyone find...the body?”

  “These waters are not tame,” she answers, gazing out at the tossing waves with an unreadable expression. “And neither are the creatures that inhabit them. There will be no body to be found. No murder weapon either.” She looks pointedly at the leather collar still wrapped around his neck.

  I turn to stare at Kylee. Given the gruesome circumstances, she is strangely calm and in control. She has seen this before, seen someone die at the hands of a patron.

  As I sway a little on my feet, Kylee's trembling voice cuts through my thoughts, dragging me up from the quagmire of my guilt and indecision. “He killed her.”

  I swallow painfully. “Yes...” And that justifies what I have done. Or does it?

  I glance down at the white, limp body that we have dragged across the floor to the window. I did this. Kylee shouldn't be implicated.

  “Kylee...” I begin. “I...”

  She blows out a ragged breath. “On the count of three.”

  “Wait...”

  “One, two...

  I don't have time to stop this. And truth be told—I don't want to.

  Kylee is already straining against the weight, and I have to coordinate my movements with her to get this done swiftly, silently and successfully.

  “Three!”

  We heave the body up and tip it over the narrow window ledge. I lean forward, listening for the splash that never comes. Above the roar of the wind and sea, I vaguely hear Kylee say, “Don't you love the sea?”

  I turn back to the room and slide down the wall, sinking to a heap on the floor. Kylee bolts the window and stands over me without speaking, without moving for a long time.

  Finally, I look up at her. “How many?”

  She raises an eyebrow at my question.

  “How many girls have been killed...in these rooms?”

  She looks away. “I don't know.” She glances at Pam's tiny body at the corner of the platform and sighs. “You can be sure that she is not the only one tonight.”

  I lean the back of my head against the wall, suddenly feeling so exhausted and empty.

  “Has any of the girls ever...killed a patron?” I ask slowly.

  “No. But...”

  “But what?” I prompt when she falls silent. “Tell me!”

  “A wealthy business owner who had been contributing generously to the Emperor's coffers was found dead in one of the Rooms a few weeks ago. There was a huge uproar, and the military swooped into the Red Lantern to carry out a thorough investigation. Their interrogation tactics were...brutal, to say the least. Some girls were taken away, and—” She shrugs. “They never returned.”

  She turns and looks round the room. “But here, there is only one body. Not the body of a patron, so...they won't call in the military. They'll just get rid of Pam's body, together with the bodies of any other girls who have perished tonight.”

  She hugs herself tightly and mutters, “They won't interrogate us. They won't...”

  “Kylee,” I stammer. “You didn't do anything. You are innocent. If there is an interrogation or investigation, you just tell them the truth. I killed him. That's the truth.”

  “No, you don't understand. All the girls in the Room were taken away. Pam is dead, but we are alive. Both of us will be taken. We have to deny, deny, deny! Do you understand? They won't believe me if I say you did it! We have to say that...that...”

  “Just say that he knocked you out, so you don't know anything. You didn't see anything at all. You were unconscious throughout,” I say very slowly. “Okay?” My hands slide down the wall behind me. I can feel a long piece of wood lying against the wall. Soundlessly, I close my fingers around the wood and push myself up.

  “He knocked you out. You didn't see what happened,” I repeat, gripping the wood tighter.

  “But...”

  I raise my arms and swing the wood down. Her eyes widen but she doesn't even have time to scream.

  There is a dull thud as the wood connects with the back of Kylee's head. She lets out a muffled cry and drops to the floor.

  I unbolt the window and hurl the piece of wood out. Closing the window firmly, I walk calmly over to the platform and kneel at the corner. I take a deep breath and brace myself. This is going to hurt.

  With a sudden lurch, I smash my temple against the corner of the platform and register the shock and pain. I can feel blood dripping from my temple down the side of my face. Everything starts to blur and darken, and I manage to smile grimly as I blink at the hazy image of Pam's body.

  “My name is Zoey, not Ana,” I whisper to her. “I won't forget you.”

  With a sigh, I slump forward, dead to the world.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A blood-curdling scream cuts through the darkness, ripping away my flimsy cocoon of oblivion. I crack my eyes open and immediately clutch my head in pain. The piercing scream drives the pounding pain at the side of my head up several notches. As I double over, feeling the sudden urge to throw up, hands grab me and I am pulled to my feet. Blinking and staggering, I see faces gradually swim into view. The Warden's face is the first to come into sharp focus.

  Her eyes flash over my shoulder. “See to her,” she orders. I follow her gaze, and see Kylee lying in an unconscious heap on the floor. I blink hard as the events of the night reel through my mind. I knocked her out. And then I knocked myself out. Would the Warden believe that Dell killed Pam, attacked Kylee and me and then disappeared without a trace?

  The Warden begins speaking sharply, “Get the body out of here. I'll call for military assistance.”

  The military?

  I gasp and start to shake. “No...” I croak.

  May and Lilin are holding me up between them, murmuring questions to me and whispering theories and conjectures between themselves. All I can do is close my eyes and shake my head repeatedly. Deny, deny, deny. Deny everything.

  May and Lilin are no longer directing their low, urgent words to me, but still I shake my head back and forth. Gradually, I catch the drift of what they are saying.

  From their fervent exchange and the Warden's curt instructions to the rest of the girls, I begin to realize that Kylee and I are not being held as suspects. The Warden is giving commands for our injuries to be attended to. She has not ordered us to be handed over to the soldiers.

  We are being viewed as the victims in this gruesome scene.

  I almost sag with relief. And guilt.

  “...one dead, two injured. The killer may be on the loose. Request investigative and enforcement unit...”

  I turn to see the Warden speaking into the glowing flat screen of her watch. She pivots round, as if sensing eyes on her back. She regards me with a frown as she answers a query over her receiver. After confirming her location and designation, she clicks off and exhales slowly.

  “What happened?” she asks, striding over. Her eyes narrow ever so slightly at me.

  I open my mouth but can't seem to find my voice. A sudden commotion at the other end of the room snags the Warden's attention. Kylee's eyes are wide open, wild and unseeing. Her face is a mask of blind terror. She is panting and struggling as three girls try to help her up.

  “Don't...don't touch me, please! Let me go! Don't hurt me! I beg you, don't kill me. I don't want to die...like her!” she wails, collapsing to her knees.

  The Warden stands in front of Kylee and puts a hand firmly on her shoulder. “What happened? Speak!”

  Kylee stares up at the Warden and blinks. In a broken voice, she sobs, “He killed Pam! He attacked Ana, then he came after me. I begged him not to kill me, but he threw me against the wall. I couldn't see anymore after that...”

  Kylee's eyes flick to me. When I meet her eyes, I see they are clear and lucid. They fla
sh a stern warning at me. Stick to the story.

  The girls help Kylee and me out of Room Number Five, and the Warden seals the door with yellow tape. No one is allowed to touch anything in the room.

  “Get them to the medical bay. Attend to their injuries and get them dressed,” the Warden snaps. “The soldiers will be arriving soon. They will want to question them. Go!”

  As I stagger past the Warden, I turn to ask hoarsely, “And Pam? What about...”

  “Someone will examine her body,” the Warden answers tersely.

  I bow my head and turn to see Kylee being led down the corridor by two other girls. Their shoulders are hunched as they move swiftly and disappear round the corner.

  May wraps a towel around my shivering body, and once we are out of the room, out of the Warden's earshot, she whispers, “Did you kill him?”

  I start, and after a beat, shake my head.

  “Then it's Kylee,” she says. “The soldiers will take her away.”

  “They'll take you too,” Lilin tells me. “The last time it happened, all the girls in that Room were taken away. No one owned up, so everyone was presumed guilty. That's how it is.”

  “But...if...if someone owns up?” I ask quietly.

  “Then you'll save everyone a lot of trouble,” Lilin replies, shooting me a look. “Being interrogated by the soldiers is no fun. No fun at all. We—shouldn't have to go through that again. You understand?”

  I bite my lip and manage to give her a small nod.

  What she is saying—is not wrong.

  If our positions were switched, and she is the new girl here, while I have been here far longer, working night after night to earn my way to freedom and buy myself out of the Red Lantern, I might be tempted to say the same thing to her.

  In their minds and hearts, they are still clinging to the hope that one day, they will be able to earn their way out of here. Who am I to shatter this hope, which may be the only thing keeping them alive, and sane? I am the new girl here. Everyone here would have formed some sort of bond or attachment, however temporal and tenuous. Naturally, their attachment and loyalties would be with Kylee, not me.

  I should be the one to go.

  “I...understand.”

  May and Lilin exchange a look. “Thank you,” May whispers, without meeting my eyes.

  They stop in front of a white door tucked under the spiral staircase and press the buzzer. With a click, the door swings open.

  A lady with gray hair in a white uniform steps out and nods at them. May and Lilin turn away without looking at me. I can hear the sound of engines and male voices filtering down through the corridors. “The soldiers are here,” May gasps. Both of them take off at a run, leaving me with the elderly lady.

  “Come. I'm the nurse on duty. I'll see to you and then...the soldiers will want to see you.” She motions me into the medical bay.

  I step into the small, sterile medical bay and see Kylee lying on her side, with her back to me in one of the two beds in the room. She appears to be sleeping soundly.

  The nurse makes me sit on the other bed and starts to clean the dried blood off my face and temple. When she is done, she dabs some purple liquid onto my temple and hands me a set of tank top and shorts. “You can wear these.”

  “Okay.”

  When I have finished dressing, she says simply, “You can go.”

  “What about...her?” My eyes dart towards Kylee. “Is she okay?”

  “She's in shock. I gave her a jab, so she'll sleep for a while. I'll send word to the Warden once she wakes.”

  The buzzer sounds and the nurse answers the door. A black-uniformed soldier ducks in and says, “I am to escort them to the Commander now.”

  “Oh. I just gave her an injection. She'll wake in a while.” The nurse points to Kylee. “The...”

  “Another soldier will be down to guard her until she wakes. I will escort this one up now.” The soldier taps a message on his watch and pivots to face me. “Let's go.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I sit alone in Room Number Two, at the edge of the large oak table. To distract myself from my coming interrogation, I study Room Number Two in detail. Room Number Two is furnished to look like a swanky, spacious office of a chief executive. There is a coffee table, and a lounge flanked by two armchairs. A plush oriental rug decorates the middle of the room. The desk I am sitting on is made of rich, polished oak, with gold trimmings and legs. The desk is wide enough for two people to lie on, side by side. I note that the leather swivel chair behind the desk doesn't have armrests. Makes it easier to straddle the “boss” I guess. I can imagine the patrons in this room bending the women over the desk, or the lounge. Or doing it on the rug on the carpeted floor. Room Number Two is where the patrons come to experience “an office affair”.

  Absently, I raise my hand to rub my temple, and immediately wince at the jolt of pain. The interrogation is being conducted in Room Number Five, the scene of the crime. I don't know if I can step into that room again.

  Kylee's words echo in my mind: Pam is dead, but we are alive. Both of us will be taken. We have to deny, deny, deny! Do you understand?

  I squeeze my eyes shut as I recall my recent tensed conversation with Lilin.

  But...if...if someone owns up?

  Then you'll save everyone a lot of trouble. Being interrogated by the soldiers is no fun. No fun at all. We—shouldn't have to go through that again. You understand?

  My eyes fly open.

  I do understand. I understand it all too well.

  Kylee, May, Lilin, all the girls here are innocent.

  They don't deserve to die.

  Neither did Pam.

  I ball my fists at the memory of Pam's small, naked body lying in a corner of the bedded platform, like a discarded, broken toy. Is this what will ultimately happen to all of us? But this present Warden has proved to be demanding, but fair. She has called in the military investigative unit, instead of just sweeping the matter under the carpet.

  I bring my head up with a jerk when the door opens suddenly. A soldier steps into the room. “Ana Zen.”

  That's me.

  I slide off the table and follow the soldier out into the corridor, which is now lined with soldiers of the Imperial Army at regular intervals. I am struck by a sudden thought and with a gasp, I duck my head lower. Would any of these soldiers be from the Palace? I know that the soldiers and Commanders are rotated for palace duty. Would any of them recognize me as the Siren who escaped from the Emperor's chambers?

  I keep my eyes on the ground even as I am ushered into Room Number Five. I stop at the edge of the platform and stare. Pam's body is gone. But my blood stains are still on the corner of the platform.

  “Commander, Ana Zen is here,” the soldier reports. At a grunt from his Commander, the soldier retreats and closes the door behind me. I peek up cautiously and see a pair of combat boots walking slowly towards me. Holding my breath, I lower my face further, dreading the moment when I will have to look up and face my interrogator.

  The boots stop inches in front of me. The Commander is standing so close to me I can almost feel him breathing down my body. He takes another step towards me, and stands almost toe to toe with me.

  I hear him suck in a shaky breath, and he breathes a single word which turns my blood to ice.

  “Zoey.”

  My name.

  Not Ana. Zoey.

  He called me by my real name!

  I stagger back in shock, but the Commander grabs me and crushes me against his chest. I try to struggle, but my arms are pinioned to my side. Releasing me suddenly, he cups the back of my head and forces my head up.

  I stare into those angry, emerald eyes, at his white hair and scarred face. “Owen,” I gasp.

  “Zoey,” he growls, tightening his grip on the back of my neck. He leans in suddenly and presses his lips against mine. I try to turn away, but he is holding me too tightly, too viciously. When he squeezes my neck, I gasp in pain and his tongue plunges int
o my mouth once my lips part. I blink furiously as his mouth ravages mine. His lips and tongue are relentless, seeking, probing, demanding.

  He moves his large hands all over my body, even as I pound my fists into his chest and back, digging my nails into his neck to try to pry him off me. But Owen is too strong. I have seen him kill another Slave in the Palace with his bare hands. He had enough strength and stamina to satisfy the rapacious Empress, enough to become the Empress's pet Slave.

  With the Empress's permission, he had tried to take me by force in the middle of the Great Hall, before the drunken, lustful eyes of the Emperor and his debauched guests.

  Owen Vesparr, favorite Slave of the Empress.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  As I grab a fistful of his black uniform, my eyes round even further. He is wearing the black uniform of the Imperial Army. He is a soldier, a Commander in the Emperor's Imperial Army! Not a Slave. A Commander.

  He finally releases me and I lurch backwards. I am breathing and blinking furiously. I stare at him from head to toe. He looks the same with his closely cropped white hair, piercing, predatory green eyes and scarred face. I can see more scars peeking out from his collar on his neck, and I know that underneath that black uniform, his chest and back are covered with rippling scars. I have seen his powerful, muscular body, and his lethal speed and strength in the Great Hall when the Emperor ordered a fight to the death between two Slaves as entertainment for his guests.

  My eyes fall on the stripes on his broad shoulders and the Commander's insignia over his heart. “A Commander? You're a Commander?” I whisper, choking out a brittle laugh.

  “Yes. I am a Commander,” he says, placing particular emphasis on the last word.

  Jaxon had been a Commander as well.

  I run my hand over my mouth. “How did...”