Page 27 of Faith Among Monsters

An inmate dorm? Or something for maintenance?Either way, this isn’t a stop I need to make.

Even so, I approach the access door and jiggle the handle. Locked. Of course.

From here, I can see parts of the yard better. The moonlight stretches over the chaos below, shadows darting between scattered bodies.

I squint, straining to pick out details. There are faint voices in the distance, just far enough away that I can’t make out what’s being said. Not that I’d recognize many voices here. Only one.

I step closer to the roof’s edge, my pulse quickening.I just need to see him.

I scan the yard, hoping for some sign of him. Swaggering across the space, unhurt and in control, exactly the way I expect him to be.

Movement catches my eye.

Several figures heading toward the building.

They aren’t fighting each other, so I reason quickly that they must not have taken whatever that other poor man was forced to take. My mind flashes back to Pauly. I hope he’s sleeping it off somewhere. Not in solitary, unless he’s still unstable.

I shake the thought away and glance toward the fire escape, or whatever these narrow, salt-rusted stairs bolted to the wall are supposed to be.

As I approach, the wind shifts, and the sharp tang of metal fills my nose. The stairs cling to the side of the building like an afterthought, their edges pitted with rust where the salty air has done its work. They creak as I step onto the first rung, a metal-on-metal groan that vibrates through my feet.

It doesn’t surprise me. Nothing here has been cared for properly.

The stairs feel as unsteady as everything else in this place, but I keep moving, one cautious step at a time. My fingers skim the cold, rough railing, the rust flaking off beneath my touch.

Sinclair will pay for this.

My resolve hardens with every step I take. The suffering he’s caused. The lives lost on his watch. The men he’s reduced to… this. Someone has to make him answer for it.

The yard grows closer with every careful descent, and my thoughts flicker to the next steps.

Photos of records. Evidence of the program.

The only way to bring this to light is to find proof. There’s no doubt in my mind they’ve buried it under layers of secrecy. Hidden it from the world.

And then Dax’s words slip into my mind, unbidden and heavy.

“People kill to keep those kinds of secrets… It’s the dirty bastards who kill innocent women you need to worry about.”

I push the memory away, focusing on the task ahead.

The next step gives beneath my foot.

The rusted metal snaps like paper, a loud, sharp crack echoing in the stillness.

I slip, my stomach dropping as I instinctively grab for the sides. The jagged railing bites into my palms, slicing deep. The sting is sharp, immediate. My hands jerk away on reflex,wrong move.

My fingers slip completely.

Time slows as my body pitches backward, the building falling away from me in a blur of shadow and moonlight.

I close my eyes, sucking in a sharp breath.

You’re not that high,I tell myself, trying to force the panic back. My heart slams against my ribs as the wind rushes past me.You’re not that high.

The ground races toward me, the cold, hard reality of it tightening around my chest.

Chapter Eleven

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