Pen 9 had an interesting design. There was a four-foot-wide ledge rimming a sunken floor in the middle of the room. A steel cabinet stood to one side of the room near the door on the upper deck. The gray cinderblock walls were austere. There were a couple sets of chains with cuffs on one side of the wall.
One of the guards grabbed a chair from the ledge and set it in the sunken area of the room. The light overhead was housed in a metal cage. There were no windows. The only egress was the door he’d come through. So far, he hadn’t seen anything he couldn’t get out of.
They zip-tied his ankles to the legs of the chair and his wrists to the arms. The blond man consulted with one of the guards, who then removed a tray of metal implements from a tall steel cabinet and placed it on a folding TV table next to Kelan’s chair.
Kelan was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to break free. He hoped he would get to see Fiona first.
“Make him bleed,” the blond guy from Fiona’s room ordered. “There’s no reason he should be sitting in comfort here.”
One of the guards came over and planted a fist in Kelan’s jaw, slicing his lip on his teeth. A few more punches made Kelan rethink his plan to wait it out for Fiona.
“Where’s the rest of your team?” the blond man asked.
“How would I know? I’ve been out of contact since before I got here.”
“You telling me you didn’t call when you took out my men at the garage?”
“I called. Got voice mail.”
The man nodded at the guard, who landed a few more punches. Blood pooled in Kelan’s mouth. He spat it out on the floor. He kept one thought in his mind: Fiona.
“Try again.”
“Try what again?” Kelan asked.
The man chuckled. “Not very smart, are you?”
He shrugged. “I parted ways with my team. It’s why they wouldn’t take my call. They don’t approve of me and Fiona.”
That gave the blond guy pause. “Nor do I. Nor does King. But after tonight, it’ll all be over.”
Dread for what Fiona was going through started a hum in his head. He was going to have to make a move. But just as he decided that, a knock sounded on the door. There was some rustling of clothes, then a vision came into his line of sight, one so stunning Kelan had to blink a few times to be sure he was seeing what he was seeing.
Fiona stood at the steps to the ledge, covered toe to neck in a red velvet cape trimmed in white fur. Only her forearms and head showed, both so pale against the red as to be striking. They’d done her makeup again, but this time softer, more regal and less stagy. Her hair was arranged in a tangle of braids above her head, threaded with pearls. Her nails were long and red. Her lips as red as her cape.
Even in pain, his body quickened at the sight of her. She pulled free of the guard holding her and raced down the steps and over to him, spilling her cape on the floor as she knelt before him. So anxious was she to hold him that her cape accidentally toppled the stand with the tools on it.
Kelan bowed his head, helpless to do more to comfort her.
“Kelan!” She sobbed against his thighs.
“Fiona,” he choked out. “Fiona. I love you.” He became aware that she wasn’t holding him beneath the cover of her cape. Instead her hands were busy at his ankles with a knife she’d swiped from the spilled tray. She was clipping the zip ties holding him. God. Damn. The girl could think on her feet.
“Give us a minute,” Kelan ordered the blond man.
He nodded toward one of the guards, who came forward and yanked Fiona to her feet. The motion opened her heavy cape, exposing her sheer slip, the only thing she wore.
“You’ve had your minute,” the blond man said, stopping Fiona before she could be taken from the room. “Look at your lover. What happens to him next depends on you. Surrender yourself to your future, and we’ll let him go—after your wedding. Continue to fight, he dies tonight.”
Fiona met Kelan’s eyes. Hers were full of fear and sorrow and anger. And something else. Determination. To live, to fight, he didn’t know.
“Fiona, do what they ask you to do. I will find you.”
The guard nearest him backhanded him in the face. “Shut up.”
Tears sparkled on her face, but didn’t disturb the makeup she wore. Maybe it was stage makeup after all. They took her from the room.
The blond man exchanged words with the guard nearest him, then left the room. Water had begun to spill across the sunken floor, slowly pooling around Kelan’s feet.
It was now or never. Kelan pushed up from the floor and swung the chair legs against the man standing next to him. He went down. Kelan grabbed one of the knives from the table and stabbed him in the throat. One of the other men jumped down into the sunken area with him. Kelan held the chair he was still bound to, jumped down on it, and landed hard in the seat, shattering the chair just as the man reached him.
Kelan rolled over backward and came up with a sharp spike that had been a chair leg. He drove it into his eye. The guard’s Kevlar vest made any other target in a fast-moving fight too difficult to hit successfully.
There was now only one man left, and he had his hand on a lever to send electricity through the water. Without thought, Kelan flipped to a handstand using the remnants of the arms of his wooden chair as stilts just as the lever dropped. He walked on the wooden spikes across the electric field and flipped over to stand on the ledge surrounding the sunken, deadly pool.
The man rushed toward the door. Kelan helped him get there, smashing him against the steel panel. “Where’s the rotunda?” The guy only gurgled. Kelan banged him against the door again. “Where is it?”
“I will die before I tell you.”
Kelan tilted his head. “So be it.” He pushed the guard into the electric pool and watched him convulse then go still. He shut the electricity off, then took up his weapons, which had been deposited on a shelf. He reloaded his half-empty clip, then took the pistol he’d claimed from one of the guys above ground and holstered it. He holstered the KA-BARs and slung the MP5 over his shoulder.