Page 53 of Siege of Shadows

The two straightened their clothes, breathing a little harder than before.

“You’ve got nothing to be jealous of, Brendan,” Rhys said as resentment crept back into his features. “You didn’t have to go to the facility. Trust me, if you had, your life would have turned out very differently.”

Maybe he was referring to the other kids—Philip, Jessie, and the rest. That would make sense. But something told me there was more to his hostility that he didn’t dare speak out loud. That hostility, even if it was just a flicker, had turned him into a very different Rhys—the one who made me think of that boyish smile of his and question everything.

14

FINALLY, WE CAME TO THEend of the staircase, a seven-foot door of steel and bolts just ahead of us. Brendan’s keycard brought us through the threshold and into a long path wedged between two rows of widely spaced holding cells. Each cell was sealed by solid red iron doors.

“It’s like a refrigerator in here.” Even beneath my long-sleeve shirt, I could feel the hairs on my arms stand on end. “It’s dead quiet, too.”

“By design.” Brendan’s glasses were once again neatly positioned on the bridge of his nose, his air of superiority back in full force. “The walls and the doors are all soundproof. The temperature is down in the cells too.”

“To make the prisoners especially compliant,” Rhys said. His grim expression had returned too. “Which cell is his?”

The only way I could differentiate between the identical cells were the tiny numbers carved out of black metal and nailed to the doors.

Without answering, Brendan set off down the hallway. Rhys and I followed after him silently until we reached the thirteenth cell on the right wall.

My chilled breaths disappeared into the air. “Why am I down here, anyway?”

Brendan looked at me. “He said he would speak only to you.”

A swipe from his keycard across the security pad and the door opened. The cell was deeper than it looked from the outside. Blinding white. Several feet away, Vasily’s blond hair, matted with sweat and blood, spilled over the table he’d been strapped onto. The brown leather latches pinned his emaciated body down so tightly I could see his ribs poking out through his white T-shirt. His eyes were closed, shut perhaps from the blood dripping over them.

“What is this?” I covered my mouth and stepped back as Vasily’s hands began twitching over the table. A man stood over him, hunched, though maybe it was just the natural hump of his back. I couldn’t tell if the white garment he wore was a technician’s coat or a straitjacket.

This time when Rhys grabbed his brother’s collar, anger flickered in his eyes. “You brought the Surgeon? You brought him here?”

The Surgeon. That would explain the navy-blue mask covering half his face, the same-colored cap tied around his small head, and the sharp, silver scalpel in his hands. Though judging from the jagged, bloody marks on Vasily’s bare legs, it was obvious he wasn’t trained.

“I suggested it, yes. But the Council voted,” sputtered Brendan.

“Is that your excuse for everything?” Rhys looked livid. “Someone else said it was okay? This man’s supposed to be in prison. I can’t believe the Councilreleasedhim! How long ago was it? How long ago did they sneak him out and put him back on the payroll?”

“Hewasa Sect agent. On an elite interrogation team with the North American Division.”

“Yeah,” Rhys said with a disgusted snarl. “Until he went rogue and started kidnapping and carving up the very civilians he was supposed to protect.”

What? My blood chilled as I stared back at a man who’d used the skills the Sect had given him to mutilate innocents. We weren’t that far away. He must have heard us speaking. But the Surgeon was more interested in carving the inside of Vasily’s thigh, stopping just short of where his boxers began.

Cringing, I turned, stifling a gag behind my palm. Vasily wasn’t anyone to cry about, but this was too much.

“The Council is desperate. We need someone with the interrogation skills—”

“Tortureskills,” Rhys spat.

“—to get Vasily to talk!” Brendan had had enough. With a burst of strength, he used both arms to push Rhys off of him. “Another city was just attacked by Saul,” he hissed. “You saw them screaming, didn’t you? And members of the Sect might be involved. You were almostkilledlast night because of it.” His eyes snapped with fire. “So yes. I called in the Surgeon. He doesn’t just use the physical. He’s known for getting inside people’s heads. Playing with their emotions. But with Vasily...”

As if on cue, Vasily started coughing, spitting out blood—orwasit coughing? Those haggard breaths might have been laughter. Quiet laughter buried in pain. He might have been insane by now. I wouldn’t have even blamed him.

“You should have known Vasily wouldn’t crack,” Rhys said. “You’re so worried about leaks from the Sect, but you brought in someone we oncejailedfor going rogue.”

“We don’t have to worry about that with Agent Brighton. He’s only ever wanted one thing.”

Brendan let his grim words hang between us as he walked toward the gruesome scene. “Brighton. Give us a minute.”

The Surgeon didn’t speak, though he was clearly reluctant to tear himself away from his patient. I could see it in his tiny, deep black eyes, too close together—the only part of his face he’d left uncovered. Slowly, he stepped back as if the hump of his back made it difficult for him to move. Then Brendan waved me over.

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