Page 60 of Scorpion

Fuck. I hate going into this type of shit blind. Both figuratively, and especially literally.

When I reopen my eyes, much of the disorientation has dissipated, and it doesn’t feel like I’m going to keel over to pass out or throw up. I manage to get myself to the set of stairs that leads into the bunker.

No one pays me any mind, and I stagger when I spot a man with a slit throat lying on the floor. A wolf whistle breaks my thoughts. I turn toward it and spot two people fucking against the wall.

I’m no closer to determining whether there’s another exit out of this bunker that they dragged Mathijs through, or if they simply put a random mask on him, then walked right up these steps.

I sprint up the stairs and out into a study. I eye the sliding bookshelf behind me that’s hiding the entrance to the bunker, then shake my head and run to the exit. I stay close to the wall just in case my legs give out on me. There’s the same sounds as before: screaming, fucking, moaning, crying, laughter, music.

I try to recall the tally I made when I didn’t have my full senses. How many steps did I take before each turn? When did the flooring change? I just need to do it in reverse.

Left, I decide when I make it to the corridor.

My pulse thunders against my skin. Through the fog, my mind keeps threatening to remind me about all the things that could happen to Mathijs. I can’t lose him too. I’m not strong enough to recover from that kind of blow so soon after I managed to tape myself together.

I charge forward, paying attention to the flooring. I don’t dare look into the rooms, but the occasional blood drop on the floor is unmistakable. I pause to glance out of the window to make sure it at least appears like I’m heading in the right direction, but it’s another useless tactic.

I keep going around, backtracking and taking various turns when, finally, I reach the main foyer. A hand lands on my shoulder just as I throw the front door open, and I whirl around to the idiot.

The Men in Black wannabe sneers at me like I’m trying to break out of prison. Based on what I’ve gleaned from this place so far, it might look that way. “Get back inside. You—”

“Have a fucking security breach.”

He looks at me blankly. “You can’t leave without permission from your—”

I don’t have time for this bullshit.

“They fucking kidnapped Mathijs Halenbeek. So I am going to give you five more seconds to remove your hand from me before I consider you an accomplice to his kidnapping.”

He shoots a questioning glance at the two other men guarding the door. “That can’t be—”

I step forward. “Do I look like I’m joking? If he’s dead, I’m going to find you and make a lanyard out of your fucking intestines. You have two more seconds. Tick tock.”

One of the men grunts in silent order for me to be released. I dart out of the house as soon as I’m free and spot two of Halenbeek’s men. Josh holds up my backpack, and Aiden fires up the engine of the SUV they commandeered.

Josh leaves the passenger door open and climbs into the back. I slide in and start firing off directions on where to go. The little dot on my phone keeps moving, picking up an unhealthy amount of speed. I call Sergei to debrief him on the situation—and his, since Goldchild chose to hit one of our warehouses.

Once we hit the highway that they’re also flying through, there’s nothing for me to do except watch the screen since I’ve assembled the sniper and we’re decked out with more weapons than any person might need.

Something in the glove compartment rattles, and I stay still. My pulse stops. My lungs squeeze. My blood drops by ten degrees. Everything hits me at once: the rotation of wheels on asphalt. The hum of the motor. The wind passing the car.

The car.

I’m in a car.

I dig my nails into the fabric of the car.

I got in, and I didn’t think twice about it.

I’m in here.

I did it.

My breathing shallows at the realization. The more I think about where I am, the more suffocated I become in this metal can. Anyone could shoot at us. There could be people hiding behind the—

“They just turned off,” Josh says.

I drag my focus back to the phone I’ve affixed to the dashboard. Right. Mathijs. There’s no time to think about where I am. Sergei and his men are at least an hour out, and they’re dealing with a different shitstorm. Any men that can be spared would need to arrive by helicopter, and it’s not exactly the most silent mode of transport. We’re the only ones who can save him right now.

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