All I can think of is getting back to the safety of my mom’s lab.
I need to pull myself together. Every second I waste is another second Dante will be tortured. That thought, more than any other, brings me back. My tears dry and my breathing quiets.
I’m not calm—how can I be?—but I’m functioning. And for now that’s enough. I take a second to splash cold water on my face. Then I grab my research log and shove it into the back of my jeans. I leave the rest of my materials. I shove the boxes back into the cabinets at my station so it won’t look suspicious. I even leave my backpack. No one will know I’ve been here. Then I race toward the emergency stairwell.
I spare a quick glance around to see if Mr. Malone’s newly installed cameras cover this part of the hallway yet. I don’t see any, so I reach over and pull the fire alarm.
I can’t rescue Dante right now, but hopefully this will buy him a reprieve.
As the alarm shrieks, I book it up the stairs to the lobby. By the time I get there, one of the security guards is on the phone with the fire department while the other ushers me out of the building.
I follow his directions, but the second he turns his back on me, I sprint toward my car. I don’t think I actually breathe until I’m pulling out of the parking lot. And even then, I’m only one shaky step from frantic.
I put some miles between the lab and me, then park at a drive-through custard shop. I pull out my cell phone and text Rebel.
Need to c u now v important
I wait impatiently for her answer. It only takes about thirty seconds.
U ok?
Yes but need to talk r u home? I reply.
No 4179 Valmont Ct
I don’t know where that is and I don’t care. I enter the address into the GPS on my phone, then dash off another text.
B there in 20
Fifteen minutes later I park in front of a large, gray house in an area of town I’ve never been before. An area said to be popular with villains.
If I was less desperate or upset, I’d probably turn and walk away. But I am desperate and I am upset and I have nowhere else to go. No one else to trust. Not when my own mom lied to me about the secret sub-level.
If she knows it exists, she probably knows what goes on in there. And if she does, I don’t know what to think. All I know is I can’t face her. Not now. Not with this.
I text Rebel to let her know I’m here, and by the time I get to the door, she’s standing there waiting for me.
The instant I see her, tears burn the back of my eyes again. I blink, try to make them disappear, but they roll down my face instead.
“Kenna!” She reaches out for me, pulls me into a hug. “What’s wrong?”
“I saw them. I saw—”
“What? What did you see?”
I choke up. “I found the secret level.”
She stiffens against me, and before I can say anything else, the door is yanked wide open. Draven stands there, looking just as dark and scowly as he did the previous night. Just as badass. Like he can take on anything.
I never thought I’d be so relieved to see a villain.
“What did you see?” he demands, his voice hoarser, more gravelly than I remember.
I swallow and force out the words, even knowing how much they’re going to hurt him and Rebel. “They have your boyfriend. They’re torturing him.”
For a moment, silence hangs in the air as they stare at me, wide-eyed.
Draven clears his throat, and though his face is pale, his voice is even when he says, “I think you’d better come in.”
I hesitate. These are villains, I tell myself. Bad guys. If I walk through this door, I’m committing treason. But then an image of Dante comes back to me, strapped to that chair with electricity running through his body until he screams and vomits and cries.
Black and white is dissolving. So is right and wrong. If some heroes can be bad, maybe I have to trust that some villains can be…good?
I don’t know if I can, but I don’t have a choice. I haven’t since the moment I peered in that window.
Taking a deep breath, I walk through the door. As I do, I feel the ground shift beneath my feet.
Chapter 8
I only thought I was mixed-up before.
Because the moment I cross the threshold and get a good look at who Rebel’s hanging out with, everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I saw, gets a little more chaotic.
Dante stands there looking whole and healthy and entirely untortured. His fauxhawk’s perfectly groomed, though his eyes look dead and his face is completely drained of color. It’s as if I had only imagined the scene back at ESH.
But I didn’t imagine it. I might be confused, but I’m not crazy.
“You… Y-y-you’re… I saw you.” I shake my head. “How is this possible?”
I can’t help but back away from the ghost. As I do, I collide with something. Someone.
“Deacon.” Draven’s voice is low and hard against my ear. “You saw his brother, Deacon. This is Dante.”
“Deacon?” I echo.