Break Out (Supernatural Prison Trilogy Book 3) Page 4

  “She said she wasn’t sleeping well,” I told Dane, hoping that would be the end.

  Because really, it was all I had for him. I wished I knew more. I wished Phoebe and I could have long conversations about anything and everything. I wished for more than that.

  But, as my father always said, “wishes are worthless without action.” And since any action could prove dangerous, wishing for something I couldn’t have really was a waste.

  Our conversation ended when the guards returned. Dane resumed sweeping, and I went back to feeling sorry for myself.

  Until Cathy’s voice entered my head so unexpectedly, I dropped the towel in my hand. Crouching to pick it up, I snuck a look at Tex and Cal to see if they were privy to this telepathic message. Both had frozen where they stood. When they looked over at me, I nodded to the desk, indicating they should keep working while they listened.

  Dane continued to sweep with no visible signs that he’d heard Cathy. For some reason, that made me insanely happy.

  A stream of chatter filled my mind while I wiped down the window sill. Cathy, who was quite the talker, had been known to take the long road to nowhere in conversations. But this time, there was a destination, and it was called ‘hope.’

  Hang tight, help is on the way.

  Was this legit? I couldn’t imagine anyone trying to help us, and I didn’t think I could endure any more false expectations. There had already been too much disappointment in my life lately.

  When Cathy finished talking, I turned to look at my two friends, who stared back at me with identical shocked expressions on their faces.

  “Dude…” Cal said.

  I made a face and then cast a nervous glance at the guards. They were both scowling at us, but it was hard to tell if they suspected something or that was business as usual for them.

  Suddenly, Fletcher’s large voice filled the small room. We all froze, listening as he commanded all inmates to go to the main hall for a “special surprise.” Because that wasn’t cryptic at all.

  Then we made our way to the massive room I’d only been to twice since arriving here. The first time was when we were introduced to Phoebe’s mother as the warden of Lansing, and most recently, when Fletcher announced that he was replacing her.

  My lungs expanded, and it wasn’t because of the size of the room. Could this be what Cathy’s message was about? Was today finally the day we’d leave this living nightmare behind?

  Guards flanked us on every side as inmates crowded into the room. I frowned. Security was still tight. That wasn’t necessarily a sign of good things to come.

  Murmurs could be heard throughout the room, and it appeared everyone else was in the dark about why we’d gathered there too.

  I looked around, once again amazed that this room existed in a prison as dark and dilapidated as this one. With vaulted ceilings and a tile floor, it could have easily doubled as a ballroom back in the day. Did you dance on tiles? I couldn’t remember. It had been so long since I’d had any occasion to dance.

  Then, as if mocking my memory, it was at that moment I spotted a familiar face. Mei, a girl who’d tried to drown me during a sparring session, was smirking at me from across the room. I had accidentally knocked her out while dancing with her—which was done for the sole purpose of distracting her from killing me. For some crazy reason, she seemed to like me because of it.

  Girls.

  And speaking of girls I didn’t understand… where was Phoebe? I hadn’t seen her since we’d been in here. Then again, there were a lot of us, and we all wore matching uniforms.

  Well, mostly matching. Inmates still wore gray or blue, depending on whether we were originally imprisoned at Leavenworth or Lansing. It struck me that, before the riot, the kids in this room would have been clumped in groups, easily identifiable by uniform color. Now, as I looked around, it was interesting to see that we were mixed together, for the most part.

  Maybe something good came from that horrible day.

  Then Fletcher strode in, and I was reminded things weren’t so rosy after all. He wore a crisp, blue dress shirt, an expensive black suit, and a smile like a sleazy car salesman.

  “Are we all here?” he hollered. “Excellent!” Why the man bothered asking was beyond me.

  He rubbed his hands together. “Anyone familiar with Mein Kampf? No?” Again with the rhetorical questions. “Well, let me enlighten you. There’s a quote from this noteworthy tome that says, ‘He who would live must fight. He who doesn’t wish to fight in this world, where permanent struggle is the law of life, has not the right to exist.’”

  While my brain sifted through the words he was saying, my gaze snagged on Phoebe across the room. She still looked exhausted, and she also appeared confused. I watched as her face transformed, her glittering eyes aimed at our old neighbor. Her posture was stiff, her jaw clenched so tightly I wondered if it ached. Why was she so angry?

  Then the words he’d said finally clicked, and I knew. We weren’t leaving Lansing. In fact, our lives were about to get worse.

  “I’ll cut to the chase.” I reluctantly shifted my gaze back to the warden. “In the past, you’ve had your abilities tested via controlled combat in a contained environment until there was a clear winner. Sometimes, even until death.” He looked pointedly at Phoebe, and my hands curled into fists.

  Though I’d temporarily forgotten the guards’ conversation—the one when they revealed that fighting would resume—I had no idea where Fletcher was going with this. In my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t have guessed.

  “As much as I would enjoy a private viewing of these matches, I’m not that selfish,” he said. “You deserve to see what you’re up against. What kind of power your peers hold.” A chill slithered across my body that had no connection to the temperature in the room. “I’ve made the executive decision to continue pairing up partners… except all fights will take place here. In this hall. Every day. Starting now.”

  A chorus of gasps could be heard from all four corners of the room. I looked to my left and right. Both Tex and Cal appeared as horrified as I felt.

  Fletcher smiled, as if relishing this reaction. So he was a sadist and a sociopath? We. Are. Screwed.

  The worst of it was, there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I’d have to stand back and watch while other kids hurt one another. That included my friends. And I didn’t see any way around participating in the fights myself. Unless I had a death wish—which I didn’t.

  “I’d like to kick off the first match with a bang!” Fletcher looked downright gleeful. I wanted to hurl something—anything—at him to wipe that expression off his face.

  Everyone near me shuffled uncomfortably. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t good.

  “Our first contestant,” he continued cheerfully, “will be the one who dispatched my predecessor.” Dispatched? Is that what we’re calling it these days?

  I couldn’t bear to look at Phoebe. This man reveling in her mother’s death right in her face was one of the most callous things I’d ever witnessed—and I had seen a lot in the past few months.

  “Fang, please step forward.”

  No one made a sound as Fang—who’d barely spoken since his twin, Titus, was killed—emerged from the crowd. Titus’ death was the match that sparked the riot, so I couldn’t help but wonder if this was Fletcher’s way of punishing Fang.

  The burly inmate crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet in a wide stance. “I won’t play your game,” he stated. “I’ve already lost my brother, so I have nothin’ left to lose.”

  “Oh, I disagree,” Fletcher said without hesitation. “Your parents are still very much alive. You wouldn’t want to lose them too, would you?” The warden’s smile widened, and I was certain my jaw hit the floor.

  This was unprecedented territory. To my knowledge, no other warden had threatened one of our families before.

  Fang’s face drained of color. “You’re bluffing.”

  “I assure you I’m not. Des Moine
s, Iowa. Sandalwood Lane. Small yellow house. You think my reach doesn’t extend beyond these walls?” Fletcher said, spreading his arms open wide.

  Fang’s jaw looked so hard it could cut glass. He didn’t say a word, but he gave one curt nod.

  Fletcher clapped his hands. “Excellent!” Then he turned to the rest of us. “Under normal circumstances, I’ll call the fights whenever I deem appropriate. But I assume you’re all aware at this point of the Phoenix’s ability?”

  The floor fell from beneath my feet. I looked over at Phoebe, expecting her to appear scared out of her mind—or resigned, at the very least. But she never failed to surprise me.

  Her expression hard, she stepped forward. “That won’t work on me. I really don’t have anyone left to lose.” Both of her eyebrows were raised in challenge.

  What is she doing—

  Ah, clever girl. She was fishing to see if her father was still alive. It was a gamble, but one only she had the ability to win. It wasn’t as if Fletcher could kill her permanently. At least I hoped not.

  He cocked his head. “Are you sure about that?”

  A staring contest, although it felt more like a tennis match—minus the ball bouncing back and forth. Everyone who was gathered, including the guards, looked between the two to see who would come out on top.

  I didn’t take my eyes off Phoebe. If she was afraid, she didn’t show it. I’d seen her bravery on display before, but never like this.

  Because I was watching her, I couldn’t see whatever Fletcher did that finally made her stand down. I saw when she did, though.

  First Phoebe’s eyes filled with fear, followed by resignation. Her shoulders fell. Her head, too. So quickly I almost missed it, she glanced over in my direction. I couldn’t read her expression, but I hoped she didn’t think I was disappointed in her. If Fletcher had given her some indication that her father was still alive, of course she’d do whatever she could to protect him.

  Phoebe took a small step, and the entire room seemed to exhale at once. I went rigid.

  “Give it up for our first two fighters!” Fletcher lifted his arms as if to encourage applause. When we all remained silent, he yelled louder. “Come on, show them your support!”

  A few inmates clapped uncomfortably. Then the guards, who had formed a perimeter around all of us, took a step forward. “Spontaneous” applause broke out throughout the room, while I stood there in disbelief. Was everyone going to do whatever we were told, no matter how grotesque it was?

  When it quieted down, I heard someone behind me say, “No way she can win.” Another responded, “It’s not even a fair fight.”

  They were both right. And there was no way I could stand by and watch.

  The thought had barely left my mind when a pair of hands grabbed each of my arms. “Don’t do it, dude,” Cal said.

  Tex implored me with his eyes. “You know she’ll survive this.”

  I was about to tell them both what I thought of their stay-in-your-lane philosophy when Fletcher shouted, “Back up! Give them space.”

  As the others did what he asked, I shrugged off my friends’ hands and good intentions and stepped forward.

  Another hand—this one much stronger—clamped down on my shoulder and pulled me backward. I whipped around and saw it was Dane. Of course it was. He was the only person here powerful enough to do that. “It’s not worth it, Chief,” he said, shaking his head.

  “She’s always worth it,” I shot back.

  “And go!” Fletcher cried out, and I spun back around.

  Phoebe had assumed a defensive stance, the way Rocky taught her in their cell at Leavenworth. Fang stood casually, but he had transformed, his fangs now long and sharp.

  I shook with barely contained rage. He would tear into Phoebe with those things. I’d watched him do it when he killed Phoebe’s mother. Fletcher had to have known that. Was this some type of twisted joke?

  Fletcher gave Fang a look that clearly stated he was on thin ice—or rather, his parents were. Fang growled, lunging in Phoebe’s direction, and I used every bit of my strength to shake Dane’s hand off. “Wait!” I cried out, rushing forward.

  “Xander,” Phoebe hissed.

  I ignored the warning, putting myself between her and Fang. Then I turned to face off with Fletcher. “This is hardly a fair fight, and you know it. What fun is watching Fang take down someone defenseless?”

  “Hey!” Phoebe’s protest made me realize just how bad that sounded. Too late to take it back it though. Plus, it was kind of true.

  “Let me fight instead,” I said.

  Fletcher smiled like a cat who’d caught a canary. “I was wondering if you would offer yourself up as an alternative,” he mused. “Perhaps you’d like to make things more interesting by fighting Phoenix yourself?”

  The silence in the room was deafening. I shook my head. “Phoebe’s not dying. Not today.”

  “Oh, I disagree,” Fletcher said. “But least it’s not permanent, right? And if you’re not willing to do it…” He snapped his fingers and several guards stepped forward. “Then I suggest you stay out of it.”

  “I won’t let you hurt her.”

  Fletcher sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Always the hero, aren’t we? Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but you’re on my turf, Alexander.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed. He used the name only my parents called me. Was he threatening them now?

  Fletcher snapped his fingers again, and Warrick separated from the other guards. Idly, I wondered if they minded being treated like servants. Or worse yet, animals.

  “This is becoming a nasty habit, Chief,” Warrick said as he approached me.

  I hadn’t seen him around a lot since the riot, but before that, Warrick was called in every time I refused to fight. If he was the worst I had to endure, I could handle it.

  For Phoebe, I could handle much worse.

  But what was it going to accomplish? I’d be tortured, and she’d still be killed. Appealing to Fang wouldn’t work with his parents on the line. Plus, Fletcher would just pull in another fighter who could kill Phoebe as easily as Fang.

  I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I knew was that I couldn’t stand the thought of everyone watching her die for entertainment. And that’s all this was. Nothing more. Which reminded me—

  “Fletcher. What was that you said earlier? ‘He who would live must fight,’ right?” I quoted. Annoyance flashed across his face. “But this isn’t a fight, it’s an execution. Literally, the only reason for it is so you can watch Phoebe die.” I threw my hand out. “And what if someone actually kills someone else who can’t come back—”

  “Enough.” Snap.

  Pain, so intense I felt like someone had dropped me in the fiery pits of hell, swept through my body. My legs lost the ability to hold my weight, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor. Warrick must have been practicing his torture technique, because the tremors were more violent than any I’d had before. Had he gotten more powerful?

  Through the agony, I saw him now standing over me, a sadistic grin twisting his face.

  “Stop!” I heard Phoebe scream. “Stop, or I’ll lie down and let Fang kill me without a fight. It’ll be the most boring one you’ll ever see. Because that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want a show, you’ll have it.” Even through the searing pain, I could hear the resentment dripping from every word.

  Snap.

  The torture cut off abruptly. My muscles quivered and began to relax. Before they could be of any use, two guards hauled me to my feet. To my embarrassment, I had to hold on to them to keep from falling back down.

  “He doesn’t fear torture,” Fletcher observed.

  “No, sir,” Warrick said with obvious reluctance.

  Fletcher rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Not that kind anyway.” Then he glanced around. “Dane? Where are you?”

  I clenched my teeth together as Dane emerged from the crowd.

  “Hold Alexander for me, will you?” Fletcher said.<
br />
  He wouldn’t…

  I stared Dane down—for all the good that did. “Yes, sir,” he drawled.

  Fletcher hadn’t even threatened his parents, the traitor.

  I could barely stand, so I was helpless when he moved behind me, wrapping his arms under my arms and pinning them back in a vice-like grip. Even at peak strength, I was no match for his ability to defy density—or whatever it was he could do.

  “Sorry, Chief,” he whispered. I couldn’t tell if he meant it, and I didn’t care.

  Horrified, I watched Fletcher signal Fang, who launched himself at Phoebe without hesitation. It occurred to me that she had promised to put on a show… but Fang didn’t. My greatest hope was that he would kill her as quickly and painlessly as possible.

  How was this my life that that was my greatest hope?

  Fang appeared to be going for the jugular, which would end things fast. Unfortunately, it seemed Phoebe was holding up her end of the bargain—one she made to protect me.

  With Fang now in striking distance, she threw a punch that caught him on his exposed jaw. He jerked back, and a collective gasp sounded throughout the room. Which, of course, only pissed Fang off even more.

  Only this time, his anger was directed at Phoebe.

  No.

  I watched helplessly as he leapt at her again, fangs fully extended. Phoebe ducked out of his way, but he grabbed her upper arm and wrenched her toward him. She cried out in pain, but then, to everyone’s surprise, kneed him between the legs, causing a chorus of “ooohs” to erupt from the crowd. Even Fletcher’s face twisted in mock sympathy.

  Fang doubled over, releasing her, and she used the opportunity to kick his legs out from under him. He crashed to the ground, but not before curling a hand around her ankle and yanking her down with him.

  My heart jumped into my throat at Phoebe’s vulnerable position. I strained against Dane, desperate to reach her. But even if I could manage to break free from him, the two guards still held on, now with tasers pressed into my sides. I wasn’t going anywhere.