Page 74 of Phoenix's Last Heist
"Wha—" His pupils dilate, mouth parting on an inhale. He sways slightly.
I lean forward, lettingvelliaooze from every pore.
“Kneel,” I murmur, reaching for the decanter on his desk. He goes down on his knees, staring up at me with undisguised lust and greed. My hands are still bound so it’s a bit of a struggle, but I pour a full glass of the liquor and offer it to him. He takes it, eyes glazing and nostrils flaring.
“Drink,” I tell him. “Drink it all up, like a good little sociopath.”
His eyes start to roll back into his head and his cheeks turn a faint shade of purple, but he lifts the glass to his lips and drinks like he’s dying of thirst. When he finishes, I refill his glass—over and over, until he’s consumed the entire decanter of alcohol.
Thevelliaand the booze tangle in his bloodstream, not quite enough to be lethal, but almost.Almost.He chokes and swallows when he almost vomits, shuddering.
"You’re—so beautiful—I love you—so much—” he mumbles, words slurring like mine, but I know thatheisn’t acting.
I smile wider, kneeling in front of him until we’re eye level.
“I know,” I say, then headbutt him in the face—hard.
Blood spurts from his nose and he collapses, unconscious. I know I’ve only got a little bit of time before someone comes knocking, so I shove my discarded gag into his mouth and drag his body behind his desk. Hopefully, it’ll give me a little extra time if he’s fucked up and blacked out for a little while.
I grab his limp fingers and press one to the sensor on my wrist restraints, unlocking them to quickly transfer the bindings to his hands. A quick search of his desk doesn’t yield anything in the way of a weapon, so I reason I’ll have to come back and cut his fucking head off another time. There also isn’t much in his pockets or the spartan desk that will help me get out of here, but my main priority is to get as far away from him as possible before he wakes up.
"You’ll fetch a high price, Brill," I whisper. "Maybe I’ll do the bidding."
Then, I run.
The halls of the compound are just as I remember—sterile, winding, more maze than mansion. Fortunately, I know the layout, having memorized it years ago for my very first escape attempt.Ah, memories.
Reflexively, I almost call out to Ada, but then I remember she’s gone. Stress and sadness make tears burn behind my eyes,but I don’t have time to grieve yet. I don’t know how far along Evie’s mechanics got with my ship—if it’s space-worthy enough to limp out of here, or if it’ll disintegrate in the wretched atmosphere of Ooneryx the minute I try to take off. But—since I don’t really have much of a plan and never believed I’d get as far as I did—that feels like as good of a starting point as any.
Guards patrol every corridor, but so far, no alarm has been raised yet. When I make my way to the maintenance room two floors down, I recognize the refuse chutes that lead to the incinerator underground, rather conveniently located next to the underground garage connected to the main launch bay, where it’s more than likely my ship is parked. The foul-smelling trash tunnel beckons, and this time, I don’t hesitate to crawl through it.
Stars, why am I always crawling through something gross to save my ass?
The tunnel winds down through the lower levels of the compound, and by the time I see a speck of light up ahead, I’m ready to cry with relief and also heave my guts out from the potent mixture of eye-watering stink and adrenaline-spiked anxiety. Before I poke my head out from my filthy escape tunnel, I listen intently for any sounds nearby.
So far, so good.
I lever my body over the lip of the chute, landing with a squelch on top of a mountain of garbage.Ugh.If I get out of this mess, I’m treating myself to the longest, hottest bath I can fathom. I’ll use every drop of hot water on my ship and sit in it until my whole body is pruny.
The trash shifts beneath me, sliding down another shaft into the mouth of the incinerator. With a fumbling, awkward leap, I grab onto the ladder that leads out of the pit, then quietly climb up to the lower maintenance floor.
I gasp in triumph when I see carts of laundry lined up along the next hallway, and am able to swipe a uniform from one of the them. After donning the pilfered clothes and pushing my slimy hair up into the uniform hood, I’m slightly more at ease. In this lower level, I pass by an empty break room—another stroke of luck—and I’m able to snatch a protein ration and a bottle of water. As I shove them into my dehydrated, famished mouth, I slink through the corridors, ducking beneath windows and scooting around security drones, but there aren’t many people down here.
Hm. Where is everybody? Maybe my luck’s turning,I think foolishly. As if the gods hear me and laugh, I’m turning down a hallway in the east wing when I overhear two guards talking.
"The auction’s off. Brill’s unconscious."
"What? How?"
"No idea. Kraxis is furious."
There’s a small tingle of fear at the base of my spine, but it’s overridden by sheer, malicious glee.I need to hurry up and get the heck out of here—it’s only a matter of time before Kraxis raises the alarm and locks the whole compound down.
I listen for a few more minutes, but when they don’t discuss anything more helpful than the bets they’ve recently lost on the illegal glaxian fights, I move on.
Eventually, I find the systems room that shares a ventilation shaft with the garage. It takes me more than a few tries to climb up into the air duct in the ceiling, but I manage it before my exhausted limbs give out. The duct is just wide enough for me to slither through on my stomach, so the crawl to the garage takes an interminable amount of time. When I reach the end, I gaze out through a thick metal grate and my heart drops.
Well, I guess my good luck had to run out some time.
