Page 69 of The Bait

With at least fifteen assault weapons pointed directly at them, it wasn’t like they had much choice.

They went inside, and it was just as Asher remembered. The huge industrial sized shed housed goods and machinery, a black van, and a bunker door.

Asher knew where they were going, and he dreaded it.

My god, how he hated this place.

As a kid, when he was forced down into bunkers. And now he was being forced down again.

Of all the fucking places he was likely to die, why did it have to be here?

Asher hesitated at the door, and Radovic laughed. “Oh, don’t be scared, stranac. It’s had a considerable upgrade since you were here last.”

A few of the armed men went down first, then Harry, but not before glaring at Radovic as he went. The stairs leading down were small and narrow, the hum of yellowed lights overhead familiar and as haunting as Asher remembered.

The stairs were so narrow, Harry barely fit. He had to duck his head and turn his shoulders. Asher put his hand on Harry’s back, needing to touch him this one last time.

When they stepped into the room at the bottom, Asher could see that it had been updated, indeed.

When he’d last been down here, at all of eight years old, it was cold dirt floors, rooms with dark corners, and a dank and cloying smell that clung to the back of his throat.

He’d had nightmares for years about this place. About what had happened down here...

This main room wasn’t any bigger—half a basketball court, maybe—but now the floors were concrete, there was proper lighting and ventilation, and desks with computers and screens. It was a control room.

There was a hall at the end with smaller rooms eitherside. Asher could see doors now, where once they’d been no more than cave alcoves.

He’d slept down here a few times, in the dirt. In the dark.

Pitch blackness.

Time passes differently when you can’t even see your own hand in front of your face.

God, how Asher hated it down here back then.

Like he hated it now.

He and Harry stood, surrounded by men with their guns pointed at them. AK-74s and... was that an AK-12? Well, that just added insult to injury. That he would die down here, in this place, by Radovic and a Russian fucking gun. The weapon of choice of the Russian special forces.

So fucking typical.

Radovic came to stand in front of them. “Stranac,” he said. Then he laughed. “My god, you hated that name.”

“Hated a lot of things about my time here,” Asher replied.

“Aw,” he said. “Don’t be like that. It wasn’t all bad.”

Asher wasn’t even going to reply to that.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Asher said instead. “After all these years. Tell me, is Delic still alive? Are you still his favourite?” Asher smiled at him. “Still sit in his lap?”

Radovic gnashed his teeth like the fucking animal he was. “You’ll do well to remember your place,” he said, ice cold.

“Must have been so hard for you,” Asher pushed. “Wanting the favour of Barta but never being good enough. Settling for Delic must have been so demeaning. Tell me, is that why you hated me? Because I was thefavourite? Or because I was always better than you. Half your age and twice as good.”

Radovic snarled and produced a knife, not too unlike Harry’s hunting knife. He pressed it under Asher’s chin, the tip biting into his skin. Harry growled and went to move, but the armed soldiers all moved in, guns aimed at Harry’s head.

“I was told to deliver you alive,” Radovic said, sneering at Asher, the blade drew blood under Asher’s chin but Asher never so much as blinked. “But he never said anything about seriously fucking injured, so I suggest you shut the fuck up.” But then he spared an evil side-eye to Harry. “And he never said anything abouthimbeing alive though.”

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