Page 129 of Princess of Vengeance

Around us, Atlas is freeing Nico, then moving to the other cages. Owen and Cassandra stumble out, both looking worse for wear but still in one piece.

“We need to move,” Nico says, limping over to us. His face is a mess from Elliot’s torture, and one eye is swollen completely shut, but he’s still on his feet. “Malcolm already called for backup.”

“Then I guess we’ll give them some fun before they die,” I say, heading for the stairs. “Let’s go.”

But when we reach the door at the top, I see the problem immediately. There’s a handle, but no keyhole. Just a small black panel with a red light glowing beside it.

“Retinal scanner,” Cassandra says, confirming what I already guessed. “It needs Malcolm’s eye to open.”

“Or Elliot’s,” Owen adds.

I turn back to look at Elliot’s body. Even from here, I can tell that his head is a pulpy mess. I might have gotten a little carried away with the head-bashing.

“Well, fuck,” I say, walking back to the body. “I don’t think his eyes are in working condition anymore.”

I crouch down, examining what’s left of Elliot’s face. One eye socket is completely crushed, and the eyeball is ruptured beyond recognition. But the other eye still looks intact, if a bit swollen.

“We need something sharp,” I announce, looking around the room.

Atlas raises an eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to do?”

I spot what I need on a table against the far wall—a set of torture implements laid out neatly like surgical instruments. I grab a curved blade, the kind meant for filleting flesh from bone, and head back to Elliot’s corpse.

“You can’t be serious,” Nico says, watching as I position the knife at Elliot’s neck.

“You got a better idea?” I ask, already cutting. The blade slices through skin and muscle with minimal resistance. “Because I don’t see Malcolm volunteering to come back and let us out.”

“Jesus Christ,” Owen mutters, turning away.

It takes less time than expected to remove Elliot’s head. The spine is the hardest part, but I manage to sever it with a few well-placed cuts. I palm the top of his head and lift it like a grotesque football.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Atlas says, but I’m pretty sure there’s a hint of admiration in his voice.

“You’re welcome,” I reply. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

We make our way back to the door, and Quinn helps me position Elliot’s remaining eye in front of the scanner. The lightflashes, then turns green, and there’s a mechanical click as the lock disengages.

“It worked,” Quinn says, sounding surprised.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I tell her, dumping Elliot’s head on the floor. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Atlas rolls his eyes as he pulls the door open. “I can’t wait to see your next party trick.”

The hallway beyond is dimly lit and eerily quiet compared to the blaring alarm in the basement. We move as quickly as we can, each of us battered and bruised but driven by the need to escape.

“Any idea where we are?” Nico asks Cassandra.

She nods, her eyes darting around as she takes in our surroundings. “I’ve been here once before, but never in this section.”

“Great,” I grunt. “So we’re in a fucking labyrinth.”

“I think I can get us out,” she says. “The main exit should be this way.”

We follow her through a series of concrete corridors, and the air grows more damp the farther we go. The alarm is still blaring non-stop, but it’s more distant now, which I hope is a good sign.

“Wait,” Quinn whispers suddenly, holding up a hand. “Listen.”

Footsteps. Multiple sets, approaching fast from the corridor ahead.

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