Page 132 of Beyond The Maples
The officer yanks me roughly, earning a warning glare from Deacon.
I rip my arm away from him, "I'm obviously going. Keep your hands off of me."
The man gives me a seedy grin, and I barely resist the urge to lunge at him.
We head down past the library. The further we get from the garage bays, the worse I feel. They're going to wait too long for us. We had a plan for if any of us got caught, but as I think of it now, doubt seeps into me. Will they leave, like we'd all agreed to? I can only hope they do, and they all meet the twins, and Willow and Linden, andthey get out of here. Maybe if we can keep these assholes busy for long enough, the others can get away.
"In here. Separate cells. Wouldn't want them getting too comfortable," the Captain sneers, as the one officer throws Deacon across the cell.
Kethler doesn't stick around, just leaves the three officers to guard us.
I'm thrown into the other cell, the door slamming shut and lockingme in without another word.
To my utter horror, two of the guards waltz into Deacon's cell. One of them throws a solid punch, clipping his jaw, and he crumbles to the ground. The other officer laughs and kicks Deacon in the ribs.
An icy calm takes over my body as I yell for them to stop.
The officer who'd thrown me into the cell comes to the bars, "don't worry, sweetie. We'll have our fun with you, too."
Rage consumes me, and I welcome it with open arms. I sink into the place within myself that's pure instinct, reveling in the emptiness, and I run at the door. Grabbing his shirt through the slots, I use all of my strength to pull him against the bars, slamming his face into the metal. He recovers, ripping my clasped fingers off his shirt.
"You stupid bitch! You're going to regret that," he says, spitting blood my way and wiping his busted lip.
The other officers finally leave Deacon alone, locking his cell, and coming over to see the commotion.
"She got you through the bars? Gods, you're daft," says the tall blonde one.
The one I attacked stumbles forward, fumbling for the right key to open my door. He's the oldest. His hard face tells me I am going to regret my actions.
"Leave her. We'll have our fun later. If we mess them up too bad before the Councilman gets here, we'll be in shit. Remember last time?" He gives his friend a warning glare.
I ignore the vermin outside of our cells for a minute, needing to check on Deacon. I lean against the bars that separate our cells. It's damp and dankdown here, the concrete chilled by a moisture I can tell never fully dries. I shiver as I press up against the cool bars, trying to reach through to the lump of a man—that is my friend—laying on the floor.
"Dea?" I whisper. "Deacon. Wake up." I try to reach his leg, but I can't. I need to make sure he's breathing.
When he rolls over and gags a bit, I slump against the bars with relief.
He lifts his hand, giving me a silent thumbs up, and I can't help the half-snort, half-sob that leaves me.
"I'm so sorry," I say under my breath.
Deacon rolls over more, until he faces me. I'm relieved that his face doesn't look too bad. He's still him, still here. I'm worried his ribs took the worst of it.
He shimmies himself to the bars beside me and sticks his arm through. I wrap myself around it immediately, not at all ashamed to cling to him right now.
We sit like that for what feels like hours. It’s quiet, the only sound, the steady drip from one of the ceiling pipes hitting the floor. I silently beg, plead, and barter with any god who will listen that the others got out and are headed to the meeting spot.
Somewhere, not too far from us, a deafening boom sounds, echoing violently through the holding cells we're in. The ground above us shifts, and dust flies from the now-cracked far wall. My ears ring, and I hear faint shouting trickle in from different hallways. Two of our guards take off, leaving the one I had battered standing stiffly by the door, trying to peer out.
My heart sinks.
They didn't leave.
I look over at Deacon, who gives me a silent, sympathetic nod, both of us thinking the same thing. Our attention is drawn back to the doorway when we hear a click, and a thud.
"Well, you two just going to sit there, or are we going to get the fuck out of here?" Berkley grits out, moving the now unconscious officer out of the way.
I can't help the broken sound that comes out at the sight of him, relief and panic mixing.
