Page 37 of When Sinners Fear

Relief, or some kind of reprieve from my own goddamn guilt, floods me.

Frowning, I pull my hand towards me and let hers fall gently to the dirt. My own braces the ground to push upright, and eventually I manage a staggered stand. Everything feels weak as hell, and I fall straight back to the ground again. The silent, empty room seems endless, but I’m still searching, yet again, for some fucking escape route. There isn’t one – never was. I look at my own bottle of soda, tempted. There’s no disputing it anymore. Falling asleep in a comatose state and eventually dying under unconsciousness is one thing but starving to death while I have to watch her do it, too, is not worth contemplating any longer.

Wondering how long I was out for, I lie still and try thinking. It’s just the same four walls of bars, though, and eventually, sickened by the stench of piss and hopelessness, I drag myself back towards her. She hasn’t moved through any of it, and I find myself reaching for her hand again. And that’s it, just us two – one lying and one sitting – waiting for death or the next round of who knows what to come for us.

Sleep pulls me under again, and I drift between those dreams of water and air and some black hole where nothing means anything. Flits of my family come at me through it: Dante, Abel, Mariana and Shaw. They’re smiling. We’re laughing. Strip racing or travelling somewhere. Elias. That wakes me with another start, and this time I’m pissed as hell when I come round.

A fury of anger gets me to my feet unsteadily, and a howled echo of pain and frustration bellows from my mouth. Bars shake weakly in my grip, but the clank and rattle of the cage does little to appease my exhausted rage.

“Calm down.” Who the fuck said that?

I try focusing into the room but see nothing but empty shadows and dark corners. Maybe I’m dreaming again.

I look back at Peyton’s cage, searching for her for some sense. She’s sitting up where I left her, a bottle of water in her hand.

“Did someone speak?” I ask her.

She nods and looks out into the gloom again. “He’s been here for a while.” She shakes the bottle at me. “Brought this with him.”

“Who?” Seems like that’s cue enough for him to step out into what little light there is. “Logan.” I look back at Peyton. “He touch you?”

“No.”

He smiles and picks up the chair Reed’s been using to elevate himself above me, dragging it over until he’s three feet out in front of me. He sits and points at the floor in front of my cage, showing me three more bottles of water. “Drink, Knox.” I look at them, warily, and glance back at Peyton. She looks at me with her bottle in her hand, unopened and waiting. “I told her it was safe, but she’s a smart one.”

“Toss it,” I call back at her. She does, and I watch it roll forwards towards me.

He laughs and leans back, casually folding one of his ankles over the other. “Don’t be a dick, Knox. It’s safe. Just drinking water. I wouldn’t have bothered giving you antibiotics if I wanted you dead.” I frown. He hasn’t given me shit. “You were out cold when I injected you. It’s not enough, but it’s clearly done some good. Temporary fix. You’ll probably die without further help.” He tosses a pack of smokes at me, followed by a lighter. “Luckily for you, your brothers are on their way. I’ve made my point.”

Confused, I step back and look around the ground for wherever the smokes landed. “They’re coming here?”

“Yes.”

“And the water is just water?”

“Yes.”

I pick up the pack and pull a smoke out. “Where did you inject me?”

“Left thigh.”

I look down at it, searching for a needle site.

It’s there clear as day, despite the gloom of the room.

Nodding, I look back at Peyton and reach for my own water to unscrew it carefully. Smells like water. Clean, fresh.

“Just drink, Knox. Reed’s gone. This is over. For now.”

“You drink it.”

He stands and comes forward, hand up to take it from me. Three gulps and he gives it back to me. “Reed wanted you dead, not me. Drink.” I do, sipping at first because of my increased suspicion of every-fucking-thing. It tastes good – clean and cool. “If I really wanted any of you dead, you’d all have been dead long ago. This was just a lesson. A warning. And now a rescue. Enigma complete.”

Nodding at Peyton, I watch her scramble for her own bottle, as I light a smoke. “Slowly,” I mutter. She nods in reply and slows her drinking down, hurrying herself back towards my side of the cage. “Some fucking warning.” He smiles again, devious and amused, as if I’ve barely got away with my life. “It’s done?”

“All done. You’re lucky I don’t want the hassle of another war. Reed would have killed you if I’d have let him.” He backs off until he’s nothing but his heavy brow and dark hair in the gloom. “Do we need to discuss my priest again?”

“No.”

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