Page 93 of H E R

Justice

The grainy stone floor is icy-cold, and it seeps up the pores from the soles of my feet, practically coagulating my blood from my toes up. A shiver runs up my leg and it's as if ants are rushing up my body. But I don’t want to say shit. I should’ve stolen a jacket from one of the fuckers who dragged me to the cave-like cellar. I can’t believe how easy it’d been to take their asses down.

To be fair, it isn’t so much the cold and my lack of attire that’s got me frazzled. It’s the mere situation I find myself in. If you would’ve asked me just three months ago what I thought I’d be doing on a Saturday evening, walking barefoot through a maze-like, underground lair that belongs toel cerro, wouldn’t have even made it to my list.

I can practically feel Dylan’s eyes scanning my frame from behind. His looming presence is enough to warm me from the inside out. It reminds me of one of my dad’s famous cookouts. My mom had placed the lid over our coal burning grill and it snuffed the fire out. She’d suffocated it. My dad explained how, in order for the fire to thrive, it needed oxygen. He demonstrated, and we all watched, amazed as if he were a scientist and we were his pupils, enthralled by his experiment. My dad used a thick cardboard to ignite the fire, feeding it puffs of air. The flames grew so high my mom thought the leaves on the massive trees would catch fire! Dylan is like a gentle yet powerful breeze, igniting my soul back to life. Who knew he’d quickly become indelible. It’s as if he alone supplies the oxygen my lungs required in order to expand.What the fuck has this rookie done to me?

I don’t dare sneak a glance back. Instead, I focus on Charles, who’s shoving Carlton forward down the narrow passageway. We’ve been walking for seven minutes, but it feels like a fucking eternity. My stomach growls and I clear my throat. I hope nobody heard that, but just as I send my silent prayer out, Dylan presses his front to my back. We keep a steady walk, his feet moving in unison with mine so we don’t collide and collapse. Dylan snakes his hand around my torso and lowers his head so his lips brush the side of my face. He lingers near my temple.

“Cuándofue la última vez que comiste?”he whispers.

I want to answer him, but I have no fucking idea when the last time I ate was, so I shrug. Dylan responds by taking in a ragged breath, and with a smack of his lips, hetsksthree times.

“Coming into battle famished isn’t a good idea, little fox.”

I smack my own lips in retort, but he’s right. I’m fucking starving. “Noted.”

He chuckles softly and all too suddenly, his body stiffens against mine. Dylan takes a small step back, alarming me. Has our path changed? Is someone coming up behind us? Is Carlton trying to escape?

Nothing’s happened. We’re still languidly making our way through the dimly lit corridor, the cement block tunnel looming as ever. But what made him pull back? I sneak a peek at him and watch as he stares into space. His head is cocked to the side and his lips are in a tight, firm line. He gives a curt nod with a single word response, and I know it’s Jason who's just spoken about something that’s altered his mood.

I’m about to ask what’s gone wrong when Carlton clears his throat.

“They’re past that safe.”

“Vales pura mierda, a fuckingsafe?”

Charles speaking Spanish is almost enough to distract me from the mammoth safe before us.Almost. He shoves Carlton forward andel cerrofalls to his knees, then yells obscenities at us.

Dylan walks up to him and forcefully yanks him up. “Fucking open it. No games. Do itnow.”

Dylan is like the fucking elements mixing into one colossal force, ready to destroy anything in its path, like a goddamn apocalypse. He may have the unnerving power to heat me to my core, but just as equally, he can bring grown men to a bowing position.El cerrowants to protest, but I watch as his body literally folds inward. Utter fear cripples him in place; he gapes at Dylan and his fingers twitch. He’s terrified and doesn’t know what the fuck else to do other than give in to Dylan’s barked orders.El cerrofumbles forward, he looks like a toddler taking their first wobbly steps to then collapse into loving arms. Onlyel cerrotrips on air and his conjoined wrists buckle against the pressure of the zip ties. They’re on tight and they cut into his skin as he tumbles forward and hits the safe face first.

Carlton grunts and tries to stand straight, but the fear wracks his body. Charles sighs tiredly, but he lifts him up and positions him to stand in front of the keypad.

After punching a sequence of digits, he stands slightly back. “Pull the lever.”El cerro’svoice squeaks like a boy going through puberty.

Charles reaches for the handle and turns it. A loud, skull cracking sound breaks the air, splintering shards of its aftermath into our brains. It echoes down the cellar and is followed by a long ring.

“Fuck!” Dylan barks.

Charles points his gun at Carlton. “Turn it off or I’ll fucking shoot. Don’t play with me.”

El cerroteeters past the large metal door and punches buttons onto a small keypad hidden on the inner portion of the doorframe. Three loud beeps silence the blaring alarm and I finally lower my hands. I hadn’t even noticed my palms flew in an attempt to shield my ears from the attack.

Piper’s man shuffles his shoulders and wiggles his gun, tapping thecerro’sshoulder. “If you haven’t noticed, saving your prisoners isn’t my priority. Any more surprises and I blow your head off.”

“If you don’t care about being a hero, then why are you helping them?”

Charles’s eyes meet mine, and he hesitates. It isn’t wise to let Carlton know that we wouldn’t be here if his daughter hadn’t helped us.El cerrois fucking blind anyhow, it’s obvious to anyone who sees Charles and Piper side by side, he would burn the world to the ground if she asked him to. I sweep in so that he doesn’t have to respond. Not like he would. Charles looks like the type of man who does what he wants when he wants. Unless it’s his redheaded goddess divine asking shit of him, of course.

“What the fuck do you think this is, tea time? Shut up and walk.”

“You,” Carlton muses in his garbled voice and glares at me. “Your little blog isn’t enough, you had to drag in thereputableDylan Montreal?”

I didn’t drag Dylan into anything. In fact, he forced his way into my life so thoroughly I was shocked he hadn’t shown up at my daytime jobs. Though I doubt he wasn’t watching. But thecerro’svoice strikes a chord in me and not a soft lullaby-like tone you’d hear from a violin.

It happens in a flash—I elevate the gun in my hands and drop it, making it slash across his cheek. “I told you to shut the fuck up.”

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