Page 10 of Sin

“And since you would be under Mr. Whitmore’s care,” President Osborne continued, studying my reaction, “any missteps on your account would reflect upon him.”

In other words, if I took this as a chance to run, London would pay the price.

“You’d also be required to keep your dampening cuffs on until the end of the mission, with the exception being if you catch up to Mr. Delacruz. Mr. Whitmore would have access to your cuffs, able to turn them on and off when needed. But otherwise, we expect them to remain on.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. I couldn’t believe my luck. Not only was I getting a chance at getting out of this godawful place, but I would get to work alongside London. It all seemed too good to be true.

Which made me suspicious.

I watched as she marched to the infirmary door and paused. “I’ll give you until eight tomorrow morning to give me an answer. After that, your fate is sealed and you will not receive another chance at freedom.”

And then she left, her security personnel flanking her.

Not a minute had passed before Cyril entered once more, his face hard, the wrinkles in his skin more pronounced. He glanced over his shoulder, and it was only then that I realized the guards had not returned with him.

“Sin,” he said, and my eyes widened at his usage of my first name. I didn’t think he’d ever used it. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. Something important.”

Something like fear laced my blood at the intensity in his tone. What was with people deciding today was the day for important discussions? “Why do I feel like it’s not about finally removing the IV?”

“Will you knock it off about the IV, boy!” he whisper-shouted, and my mouth clamped closed. I couldn’t think of a time he’d ever spoken like that. “You don’t understand the severity of your situation. You destroyed your cuffs.”

“Yes,” I said slowly, trying to figure out why he sounded so… scared.

His blue eyes held my gaze. “Your power levels are unlike anything this prison has held before. The warden, the guards… They’re scared of you, Mr. Gonzalez. Of what you can do. Of what you did. The warden, President Osborne, they…” His throat bobbed. “They had me perform a lot of tests on you while you were unconscious. And I heard that the warden’s started building a special room, one with extra wards and protections to keep the person confined and their powers stifled.”

My heart skipped a beat, echoing on the monitor beside me. “What are you trying to say, Cyril?”

“I know what they offered,” he admitted. “Freedom if you catch that man. But I don’t think they’re being entirely honest with you.”

“What?”

“You managed to destroy your cuffs in this prison, yes, but you weren’t the first person to destroy dampening cuffs. There was one, and only one, before you who managed to break free.”

“Who?” A few heartbeats. Then it clicked. “Lucas. That’s how he escaped.” I stared down at the tablet as if I could see the image of Lucas pulling himself out of the rubble.

What if… What if he caused all that damage in the labs? What if he heard what was happening outside the labs and knew that was his only chance to get out? So he took it? “How do you know all of this?”

“I have my ways,” he said cryptically. “You’d be surprised how much the officers gossip around here.”

“So what? You don’t think they want him captured?”

Cyril shook his head. “Yes, they want him captured. But once they have what they want, what makes you sure they won’t try to do the same to you? If they’re so fearful of Lucas's power and want to keep him locked up for it, why would they let you go free if you’re powerful enough to rival him?” One more glance at the door, and then down at the tablet in my hands. “Think on what I told you, boy. Think carefully, because Lucas might not be the only one you need to be wary of. Many, even those high in power, are still afraid because of the damage your father caused. And fear is the most dangerous emotion of all, for it pushes rational people to make irrational choices.”

Before I could open my mouth to ask him more questions, two guards shoved into the infirmary, looking just the slightest bit out of breath as they took in the room. At the nurse now innocently washing his hands in the sink, at me sitting in the cot.

Cyril must have ditched them wherever they’d been sent to wait while President Osborne came to speak with me. And from their expressions, it was clear they were more than a little irritated that they’d somehow been bested by a man nearing ninety.

“President Osborne asked us to give you this,” one of them said, still out of breath. He handed a small box to Cyril, but nodded his head toward me. “Said it was to move along your healing process. A gift.”

When Cyril opened the box, two small syringes sat encased inside. Ruby liquid shifted inside the vials as Cyril pulled one out.

A gift. More like manipulation.

Cyril nodded at the officer. “A gift indeed.” His tone was tight, as though he had to force himself to speak the words.

But his words were background noise to the thoughts running through my head, too distracting. President Osborne’s promises, Cyril’s warnings, Dr. Kelley’s mutilated body… They shuffled over and over in my head.

I knew my choice though. Freedom. A word I’d been too afraid to say for fear the taste of it would jinx everything for me.

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