Page 62 of Meet Me In The Dark

Christopher’s cheeks reddened. It was Kara who had an impact on him, Kara who could rile him up and make him lose his disturbing cool.

“Remember what I threatened last time? Well, I have more guards, and these ones are much more interested in your…parts and much more annoyed by your…whole. Or should I say they’re much more interested in your holes than your whole?” He chuckled, sounding like the clever, likeable professor he pretended to be. Luke, of course, knew better. They all did.

Luke felt himself growl at Christopher’s words; heard the growls coming from Micah and Conor. And when he glanced at Kara, he noticed she’d gone pale, her hand gripping Conor’s free one.

It won’t happen,he promised himself.We won’t let it.

But how could they stop it if they were dead?

Micah was calm. Angry, but calm. Well, more like furious. But still: calm.

At least on the outside.

They had an ace in the hole. Marcus had promised him that if they didn’t contact him for a pickup in twenty-four hours, he’d send his best people there to rescue them. Now, Micah was going to owe his half-brother more favors than he ever had before, and he wasn’t particularly looking forward to paying up, but he’d rather deal with that than the alternative. If he was paying back favors, it meant he was still alive.

“Now, to me, you’re used, damaged goods,” Christopher was still musing. “My guards, however, don’t care how soiled you’ve become. I have yet to make up my mind; they’re just happy to find a warm, unwilling hole to destroy.”

After checking in on Kara’s breathing—normal, even—Micah returned to his plotting. All he needed to do was fuck with Christopher’s mind enough to keep his attention on Micah and off Conor, Luke, and especially Kara. That shouldn’t be too hard; even though the professor was clearly a megalomaniac, he wasn’t a mastermind. All his power came from his family’s wealth and his own arrogance—which would be his downfall in the end. Conor and Luke weren’t the only ones who could make sacrifices.

And meanwhile, Kara’s brilliant mind would get to work figuring out her “villainess shit.” Micah was so proud of her. Luke and Conor were slower to recognize her power and accept that she, too, had a role to play in all of this. They were a little more…behind the times than Micah and had a harder time trusting that Kara could handle herself. Yes, she wasn’t trained like they were, yes, she didn’t have their physical strength or endurance, but she was cunning and flexible and quick and courageous. She was even learning to handle the panic attacks better. It wasn’t that he’d let her risk herself unsupervised, but she’d made it clear to him multiple times on their journey to rescue Conor and Luke: if he—they—wanted her to be with them, they had to accept her as a full-fledged member of the team. Had to trust her.

Proving him right, Kara straightened her shoulders. “Interesting that you worked so hard to have me, only to pass me off like…oh what did you call me? ‘Used goods.’ I’m just not sure I believe it, Chris. It seems much more likely that you’re still a little boy who’s afraid of rejection. Hmm?”

“Kara,” Conor said sharply.

Micah grinned to himself. His little badass.

“Afraid of rejection, huh?” the professor spat. “Do it.”

Micah saw the punch coming, and ducked his head, bracing. There wasn’t much he could do to fight; all he could do was endure. So he endured: the kicks, the other, more successful punches, even the later ones that included brass knuckles. The pain. The screams and roars from his family. He could withstand pain; it was harder to withstand their suffering. He just wished they understood what he did: the professor had said earlier he wanted to torture Micah mentally, not physically. Yet here he was, beating the shit out of him. Or, rather, ordering others to beat the shit out of him; the professor likely had no idea how to throw a punch.

Micah had found the crack in his shield, and all he had to do was tap on it, more and more, until it spread, and the whole thing shattered.

Kara would help with that, too. He was sure of it.

They only needed to endure until Marcus arrived.

Finally, the beating stopped. Micah’s ears were ringing, but he could still hear clearly enough to understand the professor’s parting words: “Oh, and if you thought your usual savior was coming for you, I have some unfortunate news. We shot down the airplane that dropped you here—and the pilot, Mr. William Lenox, is dead. Marcus is devastated from what I’ve heard—and angry. At you, dear Mr. Feldman. Your rescue won’t be coming. Not this time. Sweet dreams.”

As he turned to go, Kara spoke, with so much rage in her voice, it echoed through the small room. “Be careful, Mr. Johnathan, of a woman in love. She can move mountains if she has to. And you’re no mountain.”

A long silence followed her warning. Finally, without a word, Christopher left the cell.

“Micah?” Kara was at his side, lightly checking him over. “Did they break anything? I don’t know what to do for you.”

“He’s lying,” Luke said. To Kara: “Rip off part of your shirt and rinse it in the water they left for us earlier. It’s the best we can do to keep his cuts from getting infected.”

“He could be lying,” Conor agreed. “But there’s no way of knowing. And him knowing that it was Billy flying the plane? When Marcus has other pilots on staff?”

“It could be a lucky guess,” Luke countered.

“Look, Boy Scout, I don’t want to doubt you again. You were right last time, thank god. But I also don’t want us to get our hopes up that we’re going to be rescued, or plan around it. Okay?”

Micah listened distantly to their debate, but deep down, he ached—and not only from the beating he’d taken. He and Marcus might not ever display affection for each other. In fact, they usually expressed disdain in public. But his half-brother, stick-up-the-ass that he was, mattered to him.And he knew how much Billy mattered to Marcus. Micah couldn’t—and didn’t want to—imagine how painful losing either Conor or Luke would be, and so he believed that, if Billy was dead, Marcus wasn’t coming for them.

“Time for Plan B,” he said under his breath.

Kara, who was still fussing over him, looked at him. “What was Plan A?”

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