Fallen Empire (Dirty Empire)

Somewhere between Bane climbing into his bed and now, within the long, creeping silence, tangled in my horrified thoughts, I concocted this plan. It came easily, a domino of ideas. I walked through it a few times, practicing. A dress rehearsal of sorts.

But now, I fear I’ve gravely miscalculated a basic step thanks to my delirium. I have no idea if it’ll work, and too many things could go wrong. Still, after listening to that man beg for his life, I have to try. Try, and pray I’m too valuable to Gabriel’s father for Bane to harm me if I fail.

Blood pounds in my ear as I listen to the methodological click-click-click-clicks of the locks that secure my door. Four locks. Always fumbling. I recall seeing keys on padlocks the last time he came in.

My door swings open.

I hold my breath.

“Time to wake up.” Bane grumbles, his own voice groggy. He reaches in to flick the light switch.

A bubble of terrified excitement bursts inside me. It’s what I’d hoped for.

I fling the bucket, aiming the slosh of urine at his face before I drop it upside down on his head.

He yells in surprise but recovers in an instant, reaching for me, another move I’d anticipated—and hoped for. I slash at his hand with the shattered lightbulb. The angular glass slices across his palm, earning a hiss of pain.

I shove him from behind so he stumbles farther into my room, and then I pull the door shut and fasten the lock bolt at the top.

“You little bitch!!” He hurls himself against the door. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you!”

With trembling hands, I fumble with the three other locks—another bolt and two metal latches, the padlocks hanging open, keys inside—but the entire frame is shaking too much with each slam of his body against it.

“You just wait until I get out of here.” His maniacal laugh skitters down my spine. “You’re gonna be sorry.”

A crack sounds, like wood splitting. He’s going to break this door down any second. Abandoning the other locks. I turn and run down the narrow hall, and plow out the door.

The sun is just cresting over the horizon, blanketing the desert in an orange glow and dissolving the night’s indigo sky. In any other situation, it would bring back fond memories of early mornings with Gabriel, on top of his mountain, lying on the loungers.

I quickly scan my surroundings. The security gate is closed and latched with chains. If I can get through that, I can follow the road as far as it will take me.

I run for the van, the sand refreshingly cool against my bare feet, and jump into the driver’s side. And curse. The keys aren’t sitting in the ignition, where I hoped they’d be.

A splintering crash sounds somewhere inside the trailer and my stomach drops. Bane must have broken through the door.

I slam my hand down on the van locks to buy myself time and then fumble in the console, in the cup holders, anywhere someone might leave a set of keys.

I find them in under the sun visor.

From the corner of my eye, I see a form charging my way. I force myself to ignore him and focus. I’m so close to being free. But my hands are shaking so bad when I try to slip the key in the ignition that I drop them on the van floor. “Shit!” I scramble to collect them.

That’s when the driver’s side window shatters.

I scream as a bloodied hand reaches through to hit the lock switch. In seconds the door has flung open, a fist is roped around my bicep, and I’m yanked out of the driver’s seat. I struggle to stay on my feet as Bane drags me back toward the trailer.

“I’ve been nice, haven’t I? I’ve brought you water and food. Haven’t laid a finger on you,” he mutters more to himself. I fight against his grip, but he’s strong, shockingly so for a wiry man. “And what do I get in return? Covered in piss and sliced up!” His rage echoes through the quiet desert. “Apparently I’ve been too nice. It’s time we rectify that.”

He’s not taking me back to the trailer, I realize. We’re heading toward the garage.

To the place where I’m almost certain he’s killed two people since he brought me here. God only knows how many before that.

A fresh wave of panic seizes me. I can’t let him take me in there.

I twist and turn, kicking at his shins as hard as I can, first with my bare toes, then with my heels, trying to break free.

“Settle down!” He punctuates the warning with a backhanded slap across my face that sends my head snapping to the side.

Pain explodes across my cheek where his knuckles make contact. I take a moment to breathe through it as he hauls me closer to his torture room, a limp in his step now. “No problem, my ass. Fucking Eastons. Told Vlad I don’t wanna deal with this kind of shit. He said you’d be no problem. Bullshit.”