Home > Captive (The Blackcoat Rebellion #2)(53)

Captive (The Blackcoat Rebellion #2)(53)
Author: Aimee Carter

Silence.

Mercer’s office door creaked as I slid it open, and I held my breath, waiting for someone to appear. No one did. My luck wouldn’t last forever, though, and I fumbled to unclasp my necklace. Corner drawer, black folder. I could do this.

There had to be two dozen drawers lining Mercer’s back wall, but there were only four corners. I started at the bottom right. The lock wasn’t a standard one—there was something strange about it that made it much harder to pick, and I had to use all three lock picks on the necklace before I managed. As quickly as I could, I flipped through the folders, but they were all manila. No black in sight.

Muttering a soft curse, I ducked over to the other corner, making quick work of the lock now that I knew how to do it. But to my dismay, there was no black folder in that one, either.

That left the two drawers in the top corners. I wouldn’t be able to reach either on my own, and I carried Mercer’s chair over instead, careful not to make a sound. I climbed up and undid the third lock, and once again, it was full of manila folders.

“You better be it,” I muttered as I dragged the chair over to the fourth and final drawer. Close up, I could see that this one was different. Over the spot where the lock had been for the other drawers, there was a shiny black square exactly big enough for a fingerprint.

I mentally kicked myself for not noticing earlier, and without hesitation, I passed the silver disk over the drawer. A light beside the square turned green, and the lock clicked.

Butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach, and I pulled the drawer open. It was lighter than the others, and I immediately saw why. Only one thing lay inside: a single black folder.

I opened it. Inside was a small strip of paper no bigger than a name tag, with a series of symbols I couldn’t make sense of. This had to be it. I carefully folded the paper, and, realizing too late that I had no pockets, I slipped it snugly under the waistband of my underwear instead. Good enough.

Returning the black folder to the drawer, I closed it and climbed down. I moved the chair back into place, but just as I took my hands off it, something clicked.

Light flooded the room, causing a stabbing pain in my eyes, and instinctively I ducked underneath the desk. But it was too late. Unless the dark figure in the doorway was blind, he had already seen me.

“Lila?” said a familiar voice, and I exhaled. Knox.

“What are you—” I began to straighten, but as soon as he came into view, I froze.

Knox stood in the doorway, holding a glass of amber liquid, and he wasn’t alone.

Standing beside him was Mercer.

XIV
TORTURE

“What are you doing here?” said Mercer, his voice harsh and his words slurred. The glass of alcohol in his hand clearly wasn’t his first.

“I—” I glanced at Knox, silently begging him to say something, but his expression remained stony. “I got lost—”

“You got lost?” Mercer scoffed and advanced on me, liquid sloshing over the edge of his glass and onto the gleaming wooden floor. “What were you looking for, girl?”

Any trace of the friendly man who had insisted I stay with him and his wife was gone. Instead his eyes were bloodshot and his mouth curled into a snarl, and he grabbed my shoulder.

“You don’t want to talk? Fine. I enjoy a challenge.”

With his nails digging into my skin, he dragged me past Knox and into the foyer. At first I thought he was going to throw me out the front door and into the frozen night, but instead he pushed me deeper into the manor.

“Knox!” I cried. “Knox, please—”

“Jonathan,” said Knox, his voice tinged with annoyance, like this was nothing more than a moderate inconvenience to him. “She said she was lost. Nothing in your office is disturbed—”

“I brought her here as a favor to you,” said Mercer. “You swore you’d keep an eye on her, and here we are. Are you in on this, too, Creed?”

Knox sighed and set his glass aside. “I was down here with you.”

“Distracting me, making sure I didn’t come in here and find her.”

“Convenient, considering you’re the one who asked me to have a drink in the first place.”

Mercer’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and my knees buckled as pain shot through me. “Think it’s time you took your leave. I’ll have a driver escort you to the perimeter as soon as I’m through with this one.”

“Don’t bother. I know the way.” Knox glanced at me, and for a moment I thought I saw a flash of pity in his eyes. Terrific. “I hope you’re right about this, Mercer, because you will pay dearly for stealing my property for your own enjoyment.”

His property? I sputtered, but before I could form intelligible words, Mercer interrupted. “You’ll have your pick next time you come. This one’s defective anyway.”

Knox said nothing to counter him. Instead he turned and headed up the grand staircase, not bothering to spare me one last look.

And then I was really alone.

“Need two in the workshop,” muttered Mercer into a communication device, and he opened a door I hadn’t noticed before. A narrow staircase descended into darkness, and he shoved me inside. I stumbled down the steps, losing my balance halfway there and pitching forward the rest of the way.

I hit the concrete floor with a crack, and my shoulder exploded in pain. I scrambled to my feet as quickly as I could, but Mercer was already there, grabbing my uninjured arm and yanking me forward.

“I invite you into my home, feed you my food, let you sleep in a warm bed, and this is how you repay me?” He flipped a switch, and yellow light filled the room, revealing walls lined with rack after rack of gleaming metal objects. Some I could name—knives, saws, screwdrivers—but others looked like they were relics from some ancient time.

That wasn’t the worst part, though. Three metal tables large enough to hold a full-grown adult stood evenly spaced from the center of the room, where the stained concrete floor slanted toward a drain. I’d seen enough dried blood to know it when I saw it, and panic joined the pain pulsing through me.

We stood in a literal torture chamber.

“The workshop,” said Mercer proudly. He dragged me toward the nearest table, which gleamed in the low light. “Last chance, little girl. Tell me the truth, or you’ll turn this into a night to remember for both of us.”

Footsteps thudded down the stairs, and my insides clenched. “I told you, I was looking for the kitchen to get something to eat, and in the darkness, I got mixed up. I didn’t realize where I was until I ran into your chair. I was on my way out when you found me.”

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