You certainly will be.
Grim, the man who’d once fathered a girl named Penelope and called her Poppy, burst from his cage after Cedro unlocked it and the grated door fell forward. The particulars of each game were different. The cages unique. The rooms unexpected. It had kept Caspar on his toes. Cedro stepped over the guard lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor. His aim had been pure perfection. The sharpened tin whistle lodged directly and deeply in his artery before Cedro dragged it downward, tearing it open. He’d needed to get close to use it, and he’d figured out just how. The guard had bled out in seconds. Perfect, Caspar thought. A few more steps and you’ll be free of that room.
The murmurs were rising now, the excitement and disbelief moving through the crowd of men as they watched Cedro and Grim jimmy the door that was locked from the outside. Caspar stood still, his back pressed to the wall as he watched the partners succeed in turning the lock, run from the room, and then sprint down the hallway. A guard gave chase, shooting at the men as they zigzagged, avoiding the bullets. Grim said something that sounded like “Pivot,” and they both turned together, rushing the surprised guard. They fought the gunman, Grim one handed, both emaciated, working together as though they’d trained to do so. The chatter in the room was growing louder now, men downing their drinks and reaching for more as the entertainment played out. Some drank in celebration; they’d bet well. And others scowled as they tipped back the alcohol, draining their glass in one long guzzle.
The odds had just turned heavily in the favor of those who had bet that the two contestants would escape.
Grim and Cedro had overwhelmed the guard and taken his firearm. Cedro stood over him and fired once, the second shot producing nothing. The gun had only contained five bullets. There were rules for everything. In any case, Cedro’s one shot had been enough. The guard lay dead, or dying, on the ground. Cedro threw the empty weapon, and they turned again, heading toward the exit.
Caspar could see on the screen that they’d almost reached the door. How much hope must be rising in their chests? Almost there. Almost free.
He had a moment of worry, just one, but then a few lines of static rolled across the screen before the picture blinked off and then immediately blinked back to life. Only now what was on the screen was them. Sounds of shock rolled through the crowd, and a man next to him suddenly cringed, bringing his hands to his throat as he began to choke.
Another man in front of Caspar did the same, and in less than ten seconds, a whole slew of men were gasping and writhing on the floor as they foamed at the mouth. He caught the eye of the server with the covered birthmark, Gervais Baudelaire, his brother for all intents and purposes, and gave him the smallest of smiles.
Caspar hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing Grim and Cedro burst through the door of the building they’d been kept in, but he took a brief moment to picture it, inhaling a deep breath of the freedom they were experiencing right that moment. Run. Run. Take this experience, and let it make you better. Stronger. Like Evan and Noelle.
He’d sent the matching red diamonds to Baudelaire through a courier. He should be receiving them right about now. He’d know what to do with them without Caspar spelling it out—spread the wealth as he saw fit to those who had possessed enough innate decency to sacrifice themselves for a stranger. How rare the quality was that inspired such a choice. As rare as the two red diamonds that would help them live easier lives.
More men were falling now from the poison that had laced the inside of the glasses delivered a mere hour before. They gripped their throats, their faces turning a hideous shade of purple. A terrible death. One not nearly terrible enough.
But it would do.
The caged women were screaming and shaking their bars. Someone must have flipped the switch that lowered them, because they began to descend. Shit.
“Caspar!” Gervais yelled just in time for him to turn and duck, narrowly avoiding the steak knife Fontane swung at him despite the fact he was obviously dying. Green foam ran from his mouth, and his eyes were so bugged out they looked like they might pop. The sound of Caspar’s name caused Fontane’s already strained eyes to impossibly widen even more, and threw him off enough that Caspar was able to easily grab the knife from him. He brought his fist back, smashing it into Fontane’s face, the man grunting in pain as blood spurted from his nose. Caspar punched him over and over and over again until he was driven back against a table laden with all manner of delicacies and carving knives that would now go to waste. He leaned in and whispered two words in Fontane’s ear. “For Evan.” And then he dragged the blade across his throat and watched the life in his eyes extinguish. There was poison on Fontane’s tongue, but the real poison had dripped into his soul. His son would not carry his twisted legacy. It dried up here, with him.
The noise around Caspar was growing louder, a chorus of misery and death. The sound of demons floundering. He wanted to watch it until the end. But the women in the cages needed help. “Get them out and then leave,” he said as Gervais approached.
“I’ll come back for you,” Gervais said.
“No,” Caspar answered. “It’s too risky. We talked about this.”
“You’ll meet us, though, right? You’ll be there?”
“Help them, brother,” Caspar said, squeezing his shoulder.
Gervais paused. He’d known him much of his life. He sensed what Caspar was not telling him. “Help them,” he said again, meeting his eyes and giving him a nod.
The cages had reached the floor, and a couple of the women were moaning and slamming their shoulders against the bars, begging to be set free. Gervais’s gaze lingered on Caspar for only a moment longer before he turned, heading toward the nearest cage. The final task to free the innocents.
This night would not end as that one had.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Noelle was barely controlling the sobs that had been racking her body as she’d watched the two men escape their cages, killing the guard who gave chase, just as she and Evan had done. Beside her, Evan watched, still and silent, his arm wrapped around her body, gaze trained on the screen.
Evan had called Aria, and Noelle could hear the sirens approaching now. But what could they do from there? Watch in helpless horror along with them? They had no idea where the two men were. They were free, though. Safe. Noelle knew from experience. They had won the game.
And they also had no idea of the location where naked, caged women were hanging from the rafters and a horde of men in tuxedos had collapsed on the floor, their hands gripping their throats as though they’d been poisoned.