Page 91 of Deadfall

“Yeah—” He adjusted his grip on the dead guard. “Never seen anything like it, man. She latched onto his neck.”

They moved past and I slipped inside the door and made my way down the blood-strewn hallway. The lights flickered, and for a moment I wondered if I’d set foot into a horror movie.

At the end of the hall, Emersyn paced the bars like a caged animal. She was naked, with blood splattered across her face and down her chin where it coated her chest and stomach. There were lash marks across her body, but none that really broke the skin. A chill raced down my spine at the wild look in her eyes. Her previous composure was gone, replaced with the sort of unhinged despair I’d seen on the edge of a break.

I approached the bars but she didn’t look my way. She kept clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. I knew it was risky in her state, but I carefully unlocked the door and slipped inside. Her attention latched onto me, but she kept pacing. Her eyes dropped to the syringe I held in my hand.

She scoffed. “Changed your mind?”

I shook my head. “It’s just for the cameras.” She didn’t look like she believed me.

“What happened?”

Her composure collapsed and her lower lip quivered. She turned toward the wall and slammed her fist into it. Once, twice—I put my hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“If you want to hit something, hit me,” I said.

She whirled around and threw a wild punch at my face. When it didn’t land, she paused and her lips curled in a predatory smirk as her eyes locked onto mine. She attacked with a ferocity that was both primal and militaristic at the same time. I was ready, but I also didn’t want to hurt her. When her first hits came, I let them land. She didn’t hold back and after the first two hit hard, I deflected her next set and dodged away. She rushed in and again, I let her get a few hits in before I shoved her back. I refused to hit her.

“Fight me,” she screamed. “Fucking fight me!”

Her anger didn’t make her sloppy, but there was a deep pain in her haunted eyes, and a desperation in every hit. She moved again, and I caught her fist as it came for what may have very well turned into a knockout punch. But, she was fast and instead of pulling back like I anticipated, she moved closer and grabbed my firearm from my belt.

She stepped back and leveled it at my head, the wild look in her eyes had tempered slightly, but her finger dangerously caressed the trigger and sent a thrill down my spine. I held my hands up near my chest and looked around the cell for clues of what they’d done to her.

“What happened here?” I returned my gaze to hers. “What did they do?”

“Shut up,” she snarled.

Emersyn was too far away for me to risk disarming her and when I took a step toward her, she matched it with a step back.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” I said.

“Everyone else is,” she scoffed. “Why aren’t you like them?”

I didn’t know how to answer that without giving up my position, and I didn’t know if our conversation was being listened to.

“Did they drug you?”

She shut her eyes and ran her empty hand over her face. For as distraught as she was, her hand was steady on the gun. She’d used one before, that much was obvious.

“I can still see them.” Her words were breathless.

“See who?”

“I failed them—” She spoke so quietly I could barely hear. “I fucking failed them—”

My lips thinned. Psychological torture then. “Whatever he made you see—it wasn’t real—”

Emersyn thrust the gun at me. “Yes!” She cried. “That’s the problem! It was real. All of it!”

Fury and anguish sharpened her eyes and her finger tightened on the trigger.

“Put the gun down,” I said.

I took another step toward her. When she took one back, she was met with the wall.

“Don’t.”