“Okay. I see how you want to play this,” Smith chuckles, nodding back at the double doors. “Chop, chop.”
We’re cuffed and brutishly pushed through several doors before we’re crammed into an elevator. Once we reach the basement, the entire atmosphere shifts into something dark, unsettling, and downright suffocating. The six agents escorting us split into two groups: three ahead, three behind. Smith leads the way, annoyingly chatty.
“I honestly didn’t think you guys would make it here,” he says. “Who’d you send over to that address we gave you?”
“It doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Max replies.
Smith laughs. “Cannon fodder either way. You’re right.” He takes us through another massive steel door and the holding cell level opens up before us. I hear Lyric’s rushed footsteps before I see her. “Here. As promised,” Smith adds.
We reach Lyric’s cell and she freezes with her fingers wrapped around the bars. “Oh, no,” she mumbles, horror draining the blood from her face. “No, you can’t be here.”
“But we are,” I say, giving her a faint smile.
“Are you okay?” Max asks while Artur scans her carefully from head to toe. She seems fine at first glance, but none of us is taking the emotional toll into account. Given the circumstances, I’m just grateful to see her awake and alert. “Did they hurt you?”
“They—”
“We had a bit of a snafu with the officer in charge of retrieving her,” Smith cuts her off. “But she’s good now. She’s safe. As long as you three don’t try anything stupid.”
“You guys shouldn’t have come here,” Lyric says, a sense of urgency making her voice tremble. “They’re going to kill you.”
We know.
I can’t really say that aloud, though. I can’t give Smith that kind of satisfaction. But we walked in here knowing precisely what to expect, thanking the gods for every second that we still have on this earth. The longer Smith drags it out, the better for us.
We were banking on him to be his usual self-flattering, self-indulging, narcissistic, gloating piece of shit. So far, he hasn’t disappointed us.
“Lyric, you’re a smart girl. It’s time for you to accept that there are things in this life that you simply cannot change,” Smith says with a wry smile.
A few more seconds.
It’s all we need.
27
Lyric
My heart hurts. My throat burns.
I can’t bear to see them down here, looking so helpless in those cuffs. The six agents surrounding them are trained and equipped to kill. How could they just walk into this? What were they thinking?
Instinctively, I place both hands on my belly, trying so hard to keep my composure while Smith revels in this so-called victory.
“Gentlemen, it’s time we settle this,” he says to the guys, while the armed agents take a few steps back to clear the corridor in between holding cells. With the “enemy” cuffed, they have nothing to worry about anyway. It makes me sick to my stomach. The door opens again, and in comes Bowman with a giant smile drawn upon his face. “Ah, the man of the hour,” Smith chuckles as he greets his boss.
“I’m so glad I made it,” Bowman replies. “How are our guests faring?”
“You two make quite the team,” Artur mutters. “One just a little more psycho than the other.”
“We’re entrepreneurs, and intrepid ones at that,” Bowman shoots back, eyeing each of them closely. “You three have been a handful for far too long. But tell me, what gives? We were supposed to meet you elsewhere. Didn’t Smith give you—”
“I gave them the address,” Smith rolls his eyes. It’s the first sign that he is growing tired of Bowman. “They knew where to go.”
“And yet here we are,” Bowman says, nodding slowly. “I see. So, the three of you decided to surprise us?”
Max smiles. “Let’s just say we decided to bring the circus to your doorstep. We’ve had our fun and now it’s time to end this.”
“You’re in no position to play coy with me,” Bowman replies, slightly irritated. “You’ve cost me a lot of time, and a lot of money. And your audacity to fucking kidnap me and hold me hostage hasn’t been forgotten.”