After the wreck, being shot—grazed—and wandering the early morning with my abductor, my body and mind shut down. I nodded off in the car at some point, and now I have no idea where I am or how I got here.
My only consolation is that I still feel the tracker in my back pocket. To which I’m thankful Lena’s lackey doesn’t cop a feel or search me as he places me on a black leather couch.
Everything here is cold and sterile. But the art…is breathtaking. The only vibrant splashes of color amid all the black and white, paintings of all sizes line the walls. I’m sure they’re originals, and expensive.
I wish I had Sadie’s training right now. She could take one look at this room and size Lena up—know exactly how to crawl underneath her cold and callous skin.
“You like art?”
Lena’s voice floats from a second level. I look up as she descends a spiral staircase. She’s still favoring one leg.
“To be honest, I’ve never considered it,” I say.
She limps toward the largest painting in the room. Along the way, she waves her hand, ordering the three men standing guard out of the room. “This one here, I purchased in Rome.”
“Purchased?” I question. “Why buy anything when you can steal it.”
She moves in front of me, hands me a bottle of water from the table. “You’re smarter than to assume all criminals are one and the same. This isn’t Gotham City. We’re not a group of chaotic-evil masterminds plotting to take over the world.” She ticks her head to the side. “Well, not all of the time.”
I set the bottle aside. “And I’m not stupid enough to drink anything you give me.”
She kicks her chin toward a wet bar. “You’re my guest. Help yourself to anything.”
Guest. “You invite all your guests over with a gun to their head?” I push off the couch and waddle to the bar, my bones aching.
A sharp click sounds from behind me, and my body planks. “I don’t favor guns,” Lena says, and I glance back. She closes a switchblade and then flicks it open again. “I have a beautiful collection of blades. Different sizes, shiny and razor-sharp.” Her gaze narrows
on me. “But then, I’m sure you can relate to having a preferred tool. Usually you only need one to get the job done.”
I don’t respond. I flip on the tap and fill a tumbler with water. The second liquid hits my tongue, I drain the glass. My heartbeat pulses in my ears, dehydration thickening my blood.
The room is lit with the soft glow of accent lights. No windows. No clocks. The only difference between here and the pit Wells locked me in is the beautiful artwork. It’s still a dungeon.
Where you keep pets.
“How long are you keeping me here?” An hour, a day, a minute? How long do I have?
“Plans are altered, not abandoned,” she says. “You can rest. We have a long flight ahead of us.”
I grip the edges of the bar. “And if I refuse to go?”
The chime in her laugh wraps my skin, abrasive. “Then I suspect you’ll try to crash the plane, too? If you want to die that badly, Avery, I can help you with that. I can make it painless. It’s your choice.”
Setting the glass down, I turn around. “Choice?”
Her amused expression falls. “Yes. We are always given a choice. My letter made it very clear that it was yours to make.”
“You’re delusional.”
She stands and approaches me leisurely. “Did I not give you the choice?” She feathers a stray hair away from my eyes, her fingers lingering on my cheek. “The options might not have been ones you desired, but there was still a choice.” She drops her hand. “You made the choice to contact me. You sought me out. Given your knowledge of what I’m capable of, I assumed you did so to keep Quinn and Sadie out of harm. I accepted your terms. I gave you what you wanted most. And now, here you are.”
I close my eyes, shielding my thoughts from her.
“Did you think it would end any other way?” she asks. “That your colleagues, your friends, lovers, would be able to stop a decades-old operation just because…what? Good triumphs?”
She raises her hand to touch my face again, and I jerk away.
“You’re not that naive,” she continues. “You’ve stared into the depths of the darkest sin. You’ve looked into the abyss, and were branded by its torment. I’ve worked within the system long enough. I’ve brought some of the most vile creatures to justice. And never once have I witnessed transformation. Or redemption. There is only broken and more broken. This world doesn’t create heroes—it breaks them. It’s only a matter of time and duress before everyone has to make a final choice: victim or villain.”