Gray leaned against the wall, listening to the distant sound of music coming from somewhere downstairs. Only now, alone with his thoughts, the toxic idea that the life he knew was over spread through his brain, poisoning all plans and memories until his sense of pride started wilting.
His brothers had lost their faith in him.
With his skull feeling empty, like when was drunk, he made his way along the corridor and down another staircase. He didn’t want to see anyone nor be seen.
The emptiness on one side of his body was impossible to miss, and from now on, every person he met would see him through the prism of the stump, or the fake hand that he would eventually obtain.
He would no longer be Gray, the best fighter, the best shot among the Kings of Hell. He’d be Gray the cripple.
He was about to speed up and rush outside so that he could walk out his anger and disappointment in the woods surrounding the clubhouse, when his gaze slid over the rarely-used corridor that led to the collection of rooms used as cells.
It was as if something had short-circuited in his brain and redirected his footsteps toward the hidden entrance to the cellar. A new kind of energy streamed through Gray’s veins as he opened the door and made his way downstairs in the light of a single bulb. He might not be ready to go on a job alone just yet, but he would be if he had a tool to make up for his lost arm.
Nobody would push him out of the work he was valued for, not for as long as he lived.
Gray dragged the bolt keeping Shadow’s cell locked and opened the door, ready to face the crouching giant somewhere in the dark. His heart skipped a beat, and his skin broke out in goosebumps when he thought the monster might be waiting for its opportunity to jump him, but then the metal door hit something, and the dull thud was followed by a pathetic howl.
In disbelief, Gray watched Shadow’s form crawl away from him, curled up like a dog afraid of being kicked again. The odor of sweat, dirt, and rotting food hit him so hard his eyes watered, but he kept his position, staring at the creature as if none of this could affect him. Very briefly, guilt twitched at the back of Gray’s mind when the spartan conditions of Shadow’s dark living space opened up to him, but he pushed them down, reminding himself why he’d locked the monster up in the first place.
Shadow wasn’t human. He didn’t even fucking digest his food and simply absorbed it all like a black hole. There was no reason to feel sorry for him when he likely acted the way he did in order to continue whatever mission Baal had given him.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, spreading his limbs to look bigger, because Shadow’s size, even when curled up on the dirty floor, intimidated him whether he liked it or not. It worked on bears, so maybe it could aid him here as well.
“I just—I wanted to…” Shadow licked his lips, staring at Gray without blinking. The mass of wavy black hair covered half his face and shoulders, making him blend into the darkness even more effectively.
Gray’s lips parted when he noticed a freaking Taco Bell bag on the floor, as well as a blanket he hadn’t given him. He nudged the bag with the tip of his boot.
“Where did this come from?”
Shadow shifted from side to side, getting up as if in slow motion. “From… friends.”
Laughable. Whoever decided to do the irresponsible thing and fraternize with the creation of their enemy—the enemy of the whole fucking humankind at that—had given it false hope. “You don’t have any friends. Who’s feeding you?” Gray asked, trying to be as stern as possible when he stepped inside, claiming the space as his own the same way he’d seen in documentaries on dog training.
Shadow showed his true colors when he bared his teeth. “I do have friends, because I am a good person.”
A person. Shadow had some grand ideas about himself. But he also seemed miserable, scared, and he’d likely do anything to be let out for a breath of fresh air. Gray kept his voice level and dominant as he spoke. “I take it you had enough time to think about what you’ve done, so I’m willing to consider letting you out of here. Do you think you’re ready?”
Shadow’s face held no secrets. He opened his mouth, eyes wide, eyebrows high, and he stepped forward with a gasp. Gray had to fight himself not to flee. “Yes, I’m ready. So ready. I’ve had so much time to think here. I will do whatever you want.”
Was this a trap? A ploy to lead Gray away from people who could help him, were Shadow to attack? His chest dipped when he let out a long-held breath of air. “But I have one condition. You will go with me now and do exactly what I tell you. And I mean exactly, is that clear?”