Page 110 of Seizing Control: Part One

It’s empty apart from the man Gabriel appointed to watch over me.

Karlos takes one look at my face, and grimaces. “It’s time.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He strides over to his bunk to retrieve something while I redress in my second set of prison clothes. After handing me a small bag with a hypodermic needle, spoon, lighter, and some powder, he says, “This’s it. It’ll put you into a coma—the sleep of the dead until Gabriel’s mad scientist brings you back.”

“Like Romeo & Juliet?”

I recall Slash and Lily chatting about something similar when she had to study Shakespeare for English. As far-fetched as I found the story at the time, I have to appreciate the parallels to my own life. I’m faking my own death to avoid further bloodshed while trusting my number one competition for Lily’s heart with her safety.

So many things can go wrong…

The older man’s widening gaze reveals his surprise at my question. “Somethin’ like that, but a hellova lot more refined. It’s not exactly belladonna on its own… it’s a mixture of bulrush, leopard’s bane, and a few other synthetic pharmaceuticals.”

“Okay.” I pass it back to him. “You’re gonna have to shoot me up—I’ve never been down with the junkie life.”

“Fuckin’ bikers, these days. No skills to speak of… I swear.”

Karlos proves an old hand at mixing. He heats up the liquid, then draws it into the syringe. I rip off a strip of sheet and tie it around my bicep as I follow him behind the half wall that offers the sole area of semi-privacy in our cell. The prick when he pushes the needle into my skin is barely perceptible. I observe, almost detached from my body, as he propels the plunger to empty the contents of the hypodermic into me.

Halfway through, I start to get second thoughts. “Hey, wait… maybe…”

The look Karlos gives me tells me that it’s too late.

I’m officially a dead man.

My heart starts to thunder in my ears.

The cell tilts to one side.

I stumble in what I hope is the direction of my bunk.

Karlos follows behind me, shepherding me like an anxious dad following a toddler taking his first steps. As I make it to the middle of the cell, lights start to flicker on in the corridor. It heralds the approach of a screw, and that doesn’t bode well for our strategy.

I try to think of a new plan.

My thoughts slip out of my head before I can properly grasp them.

I watch as the doors are sprung open.

A guard steps inside the cell.

It isn’t Gabriel’s man.

Another man follows him.

One I know well.

Too well.

“Ah, fuck no,” Karlos mumbles. He lurches forward to grab the weapons taped to the bottom of my top bunk. He manages to slash the guard when he tries to subdue him. I get a heavy feeling of foreboding in my gut as my only protection is tasered, then has his head slammed into the metal side of the bunk. As he passes out, the old man pins me with a worried look. “Run, Venom.”

My feet refuse to listen to my brain.

Instead of moving, they give out.

I drop to my knees, and narrowly avoid faceplanting thanks to the second man seizing hold of my hair. He wrenches my head back, exposing my throat to the blade he’s holding in his other hand.

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