Page 26 of Concluded
“Do you believe you’ll go to heaven and I’ll go to hell?”
Maybe this guy had been doomed the moment his parents saddled him with that stupid name.Hell, maybe Achilles had been doomed when his parents decided to honor their heritage by naming him after a mythological warrior.
He shook his head.“I don’t have an opinion on that.”He was confident thatsomethinghappened to a person after death, because the Bureau sometimes dealt with ghosts.But he’d never given the matter much thought.
But now the issue was a lot more relevant to him, and Martell looked uncertain, so Achilles continued.“I do believe in redemption, though.That someone can fuck up royally but still end up a good guy.Not because I think a god is keeping track somewhere, and not because I believe that doing good deeds today erases yesterday’s bad ones.I just think that people can reform.Is this why you came here—to discuss ethics and religion?”
“I came to give you a drink of water.”
Achilles huffed.“Well, you did that.”
Martell continued to stand there, brow furrowed.He was working out a problem in his head, but Achilles didn’t know what—or how the potential solutions might impact him.And gods, Achilles was utterly exhausted and yearned to close his eyes and just… check out.He’d never been one to give up, though.Even his resignation from the Bureau had been short-lived.
“You didn’t choose to be here,” he said quietly, “but you have options now.Make the right choice, Martell.”
“What kind of person am I?”Martell answered in an odd, mechanical tone.
“That’s up to you to decide.”
Achilles was sure that Martell was going to walk away.No, dammit.Hopewas one of Achilles’ few remaining weapons, so he’d hope for a miracle.
After a long pause, Martell reached into his pocket, pulled out something too small for Achilles to make out, and stared at the object in his palm.“Wish,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Make a wish, Agent Spanos.”
Achilles firmed his jaw.“I want to be free.”
Martell nodded, curled his hand into a fist, and closed his eyes.His entire body shuddered and his face flushed; a small moan escaped his throat.Then he opened his eyes and pressed the object into Achilles’ right hand.The thing was small and smooth, like a pea, but hard.And it was almost hot enough to burn.
“Make a wish,” Martell repeated.
What the hell—might as well.“I wish to get the hell out of here.Alive and intact.”
A quick electrical thrill ran through Achilles’ overtaxed nervous system.It teetered on the edge of pain but didn’t quite topple over, and then it was gone.The item in his hand crumbled to dust… and the chains at his ankles and wrists disappeared.
He wanted to sob with relief, but it was far too soon for that.He was still inside a building, possibly somewhere far from assistance, and he was so weak that he wasn’t sure whether he could even stand on his own.But dammit, he’d go down fighting.
“Help me,” he demanded.
Martell took a step back and then, thank all the heavens, came forward and steadied Achilles as he got off the table and onto his feet.At which point Achilles promptly collapsed to the floor with a swallowed curse, little dignity left as he swayed on his knees, panting and naked.Luckily, pride had never been one of his major faults.
Without a word, Martell tugged him upright and settled Achilles’ arm around his shoulders.In fact, he bore a good portion of Achilles’ weight as they struggled out of the room and down a long, glaringly white hallway.Although Achilles had lost some muscle mass since the bear-shifter mauling, he was still heavy, and although Martell wasn’t a small man, Achilles couldn’t have been an easy burden.Martell grunted slightly with the effort—they both did—but he didn’t complain.
Goddammit, there were stairs—but at least they were descending.Achilles doubted very much that he could have walked up even half a flight.Not only was his body weak and shivery, but he was lightheaded.Twice he started to fall, but Martell caught him each time.
Another long hallway at the bottom of the stairs, then a turn into a third.With the dizziness, Achilles felt as if he were trapped in an Escher drawing.He half expected to find himself walking upside down.But at last they entered a high-ceilinged room with a sweeping grand staircase on one side and, on the other, what appeared to be—thank the gods—a tall exterior door.
Which would have been a lovely sight if Ashley Dunn hadn’t been standing in front of the door, hands on hips, head slowly shaking.
“I expected better of you,” she said, apparently addressing Dee.
Achilles growled, “Get out of the way.”
She ignored him.“I get it, babe.He’s real pretty, even all beat up like this.You can fuck him, if you want.I wouldn’t mind watching that.Just dump him on the floor, and we can get him all tied up.”
“No,” said Martell.
