Drake coughed and shook his head, his damp lips barely moving. “They took him. I saw it.”
“No. They couldn’t have,” Pyro said, but when he tried to grab the front of Drake’s T-shirt, Tank stepped away. “You saw it and did nothing?”
Tank gestured for Clover to open the door once they reached the car. “What was he supposed to do? Can’t you see how fucked-up he is?”
Pyro kicked the wheel in helpless fury. “I don’t know! Something. Clover?” he looked at the boy, who was so pale he’d be turning translucent any second. Clover got out of the car, making room for Drake on the backseat, and Pyro grabbed his shoulder, shaking him out of the wide-eyed state. “What else did you hear about Boar?”
Clover swallowed, acting nothing like the cocky shit he could be some days. “That he’d replace their champion. That a man called ‘Tyrone’ is the buyer.” His teeth began to clatter, and when his eyes filled with tears, he wiped them off with the heels of his hands.
“The police might be here any minute. Drake just confirmed what the guard said. Boar’s not here anymore. Keep it together!” Tank snapped.
Pyro kicked the wheel again, unable to cope with the pressure inside. He could practically sense Boar’s touch, but it was just out of reach. “This isn’t fucking Game of Thrones, so stop talking to me in riddles,” he yelled so loudly Clover stepped back and slid into the car to put his arms around Drake. His blue eyes were wide and damp, devoid of care for Boar’s fate.
It was then when truth hit Pyro like a hammer to the head, crushing his skull and leaving his brain as mush—nobody but him cared.
They saw Boar as a casualty and were ready to move on. He couldn’t fucking believe it.
Tank snarled as soon as he was done moving Drake into the back seat. “What the fuck is your problem? He can’t tell you what he doesn’t know. Now get into the car. Let’s go before it’s too late! We can’t help Boar if we’re in jail!”
Pyro shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. They were leaving in a hurry. They could have left clues about where they took him. Clues about their fucked-up organization. Let’s stay and search. Clover can drive Drake to get help, and we’ll figure out an Uber later or something.”
Tank took a step closer. “Clover’s in no shape to drive,” he whispered.
Pyro screamed out in frustration. “He’s fine! He walks, he talks, so he can also drive. If he can’t take a little beating, he never should have been included in our team in the first place!”
Tank’s nostrils flared as if he were about to charge, and Pyro was waiting for it with open arms. If Tank wanted to fight, so could Pyro. But Tank shook his head and moved toward the driver’s seat. “This makes no sense. They’d have taken all the incriminating stuff. People like Apollo don’t stay in this kind of business without being good at covering their tracks. We have the buyer’s name. I’ll inquire as soon as we’re out of the fire.”
The matter-of-fact statement stabbed Pyro in the back. There had to be something more they could do. Something.
“Fuck it. Go. I’ll see you… when I see you,” he snarled and walked, then ran into the building.
Tank called out Pyro’s nickname, the anger in his voice like blades too dull to affect reality. Pyro dashed inside, stepping on paper scattered over the floor in the large hall devoid of any personality. He went straight for the staircase, because if those fuckers wanted to contain a man like Boar, they’d never have tried to do so in a room with windows. If he was here, if there were any signs of his recent presence left, they’d be underground.
Pyro could have sworn a car engine came to life outside, but it was only an afterthought.
The people he’d considered brothers, whom he’d trusted for so long, were fleeing the scene like rats, as if leaving one of them behind was no big deal, as if Boar wasn’t included in Tank’s rule to never leave people behind.
It seemed Boar wasn’t important enough for them to save.
Pyro stood still once he reached the level below, faced with three identical corridors. Two were pitch black, but he followed the one lit with fluorescent lights, because it had most recently been in use.
“Jamie?” he called out, scanning the floor for blood stains, but there was nothing, just boring old laminate and walls painted with the kind of smooth paint used in kitchens and bathrooms. The underground level of any office building in existence. Where were the chambers of torture? Where were the cages, firepits, and iron maidens?
He opened every door, but the giant space was virtually empty, as if the company that used to occupy this place had only just moved to its new location, leaving behind junk. The place was enormous and full of smaller hallways that led nowhere, trapping him in their labyrinth, but with the Minotaur already gone, was there a chance to find traces of his final victim?