“Give me five.”
I jogged down the sterile, cold hallway to the cell I’d seen London in over a month ago. Fuck. It felt like those two years without her. Except this time, I knew where she was. I just couldn’t get to her. That was much worse because I’d had to fight the urge to say fuck it and come here and get her. Would’ve killed us both the second I used my fingerprint scan with Mother’s extra security on it.
I placed my finger against the pad reader and waited for the distinct click. My breath stalled in my throat as I waited, praying Mother had really taken the lockdown code off London’s cell.
Click.
Fuckin’ Christ.
I kicked the door open and stopped, my gaze skimming the musty cell for London. There was a bare cot, no sheets, no pillow, a toilet, and large metal rings on the damp cement wall with chains hanging from them.
Bile rose in my throat as I was reminded of my childhood because I knew what it was like for London here. I knew the chill in your bones that refused to go away.
It felt like minutes passed before my eyes finally locked on the curled ball in the corner of the room.
“Fuck,” I swore beneath my breath.
I knew what I’d see; I’d been prepared for it. I’d witnessed enough torture and despair in my life that I was immune. I’d tortured men to get answers. Killed. Maimed. But the haunting memory of seeing London in this cell had been my own torture. I’d take being physically tortured over the constant images since that day and the echoing sound of my footsteps as I walked away, knowing I had to leave her here.
Knowing what they’d do to her.
I approached the huddled form on the floor. She was filthy, a greyish brown film covering her scantily clothed body. Her long hair hung in oily strands across her face and over her shoulders as if it were her blanket from the chill in the air.
I crouched beside her and was about to brush the hair away from her face when I saw the flash of silver clutched in her hand. “Lon—”
Her eyes flew open at the same time as her fist went for my throat with the small piece of metal. The dull, rusted weapon scraped across my skin and I felt the warm blood trail down my neck.
“London!” I rolled to the side as she leapt on top of me, her eyes steady but glazed over. I latched onto her wrist with the metal and squeezed so hard she screamed. She released the weapon and it clattered to the floor.
“London. Stop.”
She continued to fight me, her hair shielding her face as she writhed back and forth. I tried to be gentle, not wanting to hurt her, but I had no choice as I tossed her aside then straddled her before she had the chance to get up. It took me a second to lock down her flailing arms as she tried to punch me. I managed to grab her wrists and used my weight to hold them on the floor above her head.
“London,” I shouted. “It’s me. Kai.”
She stilled, the wild look in her eyes settling as she focused on me. Then her body went limp beneath me. “Kai?”
“Yeah.” I released her wrists and brushed her hair away from her face.
She stared at me for a second and I could see her eyes trying to comprehend that what she was seeing was real and not her mind playing tricks on her.
She reached up, her hand quivering as she placed her fingers on my lower lip. Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly and her eyes widened as she finally took in that I was real.
“Kai.”
God, she was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. The way she looked at me…. Fuck, if I died at that moment, it would all be worth seeing that look in her eyes. I was the reason she was here, the reason for all her pain, and yet I was selfish to keep wanting her. Needing her.
“We have company,” Deck said, appearing in the doorway. “Three men entered the premises through the back door.”
Shit. Of course, this wouldn’t be simple.
London jerked her gaze to him. “Deck?”
There was a puzzled look on her face and I knew she didn’t understand why Deck was here with me. She had no idea that this was just the beginning of what we were facing with our fight at taking down Vault.
“Arms,” I urged.
She hooked them around me then I lifted her off the damp floor so she stood.
Her forehead rested against my chest and my heart pumped a rush of blood through me as I held her in close. I’d been struggling to get to this day for weeks, and finally, the feeling was as if the endless torture had ended.