Chapter 3: The Golden Cage

The car kept climbing.

That was the first thing I noticed. We had been driving for a while already and I had assumed we were going to some building in the inner ring. Some towers. Some penthouse above the city where men like him kept their offices and their secrets.

But the inner ring had disappeared behind us a long time ago.

Now there were trees.

I pressed my face closer to the tinted window. Pine trees thick on both sides of the road. Dark and close. The kind of forest that swallowed the sky. No streetlights out here. No neon. No sound of the city at all.

Where was he taking me?

I pulled at the zip-tie again without thinking about it. An old habit by now. The plastic had eaten so deep into my skin that pulling it was just pain with no result but my hands kept trying anyway like they hadn't gotten the message yet.

The trees broke.

And my stomach dropped.

I genuinely did not understand what I was looking at for a full second.

I had been expecting a house.

This was Not A House.

It was enormous. Concrete and black steel and glass built directly into the side of a cliff like someone had decided the mountain was in the way and had put a building through it instead of going around. Floodlights everywhere. Security cameras on every corner... I counted six just on the front face and I knew I wasn't seeing all of them. Armed men at the gate in the rain holding rifles like the rifles were just part of getting dressed in the morning.

The gate itself was iron. Massive. The kind that didn't open unless something wanted it to.

It opened for us.

The tires crunched onto black stone as we pulled through and I turned in my seat trying to see everything at once. Looking for the thing my brain was already desperately searching for before I had even consciously decided to search.

A way out.

There wasn't one.

I looked at the walls. Too high and topped with something I didn't want to think about. I looked at the cameras. Everywhere... covering every angle, every shadow, every gap between buildings. I looked at the guards at the gate and the guards at the door and the guards I could see moving along the upper level of the grounds.

I pressed my hand against the window glass.

If he decided I was useless I was already standing in my grave and I just hadn't been told yet.

That thought sat in my chest like something cold and heavy and I couldn't move it.

Tor parked at the front steps.

He pulled me out by my collar and I stumbled on the wet stone and caught myself and walked because walking was the only thing I had any control over right now.

The front doors were brass. They slid open before we reached them.

Inside was white marble and high ceilings and more space than I had ever been in in my life. It smelled like flowers and money. The kind of clean that required a lot of people working very hard to maintain every single day. A line of staff in dark uniforms stood waiting, not one of them looked at my bloody wrists or my swollen face. Eyes on the floor. Every single one of them.

Like I had already been erased from the room before I even walked into it.

Tor handed me off to an older woman with a straight back and strong hands and a look on her face like she had seen everything and had opinions about most of it.

"Clean her up," Tor said. He looked at me. "Don't leave the room."

The woman walked me up a wide glass staircase and I looked everywhere as we went. Every door. Every corridor. Every window. My brain catalogues automatically the way my father had trained it to... exist first. Maevia always exits first... and finds nothing. Nothing useful. Nothing that didn't have a camera pointed at it or a guard below it or a drop that would kill me before I hit the ground.

The bedroom at the end of the hall was bigger than our entire apartment.

One whole wall was just glass. The cliff dropped away on the other side of it straight down to black ocean far below. The storm was rolling in from the east. Lightning walking slowly across the water.

The woman stripped my wet jacket and my boots without asking and dropped a silk nightgown over my head. It felt like wearing cold water. She walked out and the door clicked shut and the lock engaged and I stood in the middle of the expensive rug in the expensive room and for a moment I just stood there.

Then I started moving.

Window first. I hit the glass with the heel of my hand as hard as I could.

Nothing. Not even a rattle. Reinforced... the kind of glass that laughed at hands.

The air vents. I got up on the bed frame and looked. Screwed shut with tamper proof screws.

The walls. I ran my fingers along the baseboards looking for a panel or a seam or anything and found nothing but expensive wallpaper over solid stone.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

The silk sheets slid under my fingers and I stared at the window and thought about my father.

If he took the finger dad is still breathing.

That was the logic I was holding onto. That was the rope I was hanging from above everything else. He had promised a doctor. He kept his word... he had said that himself. The good ones and the bad ones.

I had to believe that.

I Had To.

The storm broke just after midnight. Thunder so loud it came up through the floor. Lightning turned the room white for a half second and left dark shapes burning in my eyes.

I stood up.

I could not sleep in a room I didn't know. Growing up in the outer rim you didn't close your eyes somewhere new until you understood it. Until you knew every exit and every shadow. It wasn't fear exactly. It was just something my father had put in me so deep it had become the way I worked.

I went to the bedside table.

Heavy brass lamp. I unscrewed the top. Reached past the hot bulb and pulled a thin copper wire loose from the inside.

The keypad by the door glowed red.

I got down on the cold floor and worked the wire into the tiny gap at the base of the housing. Ten years of getting into locked things in Sector Four. Ten years of learning that every lock had one weakness because every lock was made by a person and people always left themselves a way back in.

I twisted the wire.

A small spark bit my thumb.

The keypad turned green.

The door opened soft and quiet like a breath going out.

The hallway was colder than the room.

I moved on the front of my feet. Found the service stairs behind a panel near the end of the corridor and went down.

The smell changed as I went lower. Expensive flowers first. Then nothing. Then bleach... sharp and wrong. And underneath the bleach something heavy and copper that I knew before I wanted to know it.

Blood.

A long concrete corridor at the bottom. Cheap lights buzzing. A heavy door at the far end sitting open just two inches.

I heard it before I reached it.

A wet heavy sound. The kind that came from something that had stopped being able to protect itself.

I pressed my back to the wall and moved to the gap and looked through.

A drain in the center of the floor. A man tied to a chair bolted over it. His face was ruined. Blood running freely from his nose and dripping into the grate.

Varek standing over him.

Jacket gone. Sleeves up. His forearms are mapped with old scars. His knuckles dripped fresh red onto the concrete.

His voice when he spoke was completely flat.

"Who paid for the manifest?"

The man coughed. Spat something onto the floor. "Go to hell."

Varek grabbed his hair and pulled his head back and hit him in the ribs.

The crack of it bounced off the walls.

I flinched.

My heel made a small sound on the wet floor.

Tiny. The thunder outside was enormous.

Varek's head turned toward the door.

His eyes found the gap immediately.

His hand dropped to his thigh.

The gun came up smooth and fast and aimed directly at my face through the two inch opening.

The safety clicked off.

Neither of us moved.