Page 232 of Heartless Legacy

He probably spotted Thea and is stealing a few minutes alone with her, before having to come in here and play pretend. “I can read, just like you can. If he had you walk in ahead of him from the parking lot to avoid the embarrassment of being seen with you, that’s got nothing to do with us.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t see Pax in the parking lot.”

I flick my hand dismissively. “Restaurant. Whatever.”

“Seriously, Finn. Just tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know. You were with him all day, so why the hell are you asking me?”

“I- I wasn’t with Pax.” She looks to Holden. “He said you three were taking an impromptu road trip, and would be out of cellphone range for a few days.”

Holden asks, “This isn’t a joke? Pax wasn’t with you?”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen him in days, and since I haven’t seen either of you at the dorms, I thought you were out of town, like he said you’d be. You really don’t know where he is?”

Holden’s been hanging out at our place since Pax was supposedly busy. “I thought you had contract negotiations every day this week.”

“Mr. Cox cancelled last week, because he was traveling this week for work.” She looks up at the dais and says, “I’m sure he’s happy he could get a flight back in time.”

Holden and I share a look. Malcolm came back to town four days ago, just in time for our mentor prep meetings. Four days ago was the last time I laid eyes on Pax. The rest of our communications were text messages, saying he was with Eloise.

The doors bang closed, The Sergeant at Arms calls the meeting to order, and the ceremony master says, “The history of The League of the Daggered Raven has been documented in our halls, our writings and our stories passed down through generations. In recent weeks, we’ve received several inquiries regarding the validity of the information stored in our archives. Enough so that we have determined a remediation class of league history is needed. To ensure we’re all on the same page, we will be holding the class tonight, during the first half of this meeting. After a short break, we will don our ceremonial attire and re-ratify the votes for transfer of power regarding the members of the original twelve family lines.”

The projectors drop from the ceiling, and a video presentation plays. Someone behind me whispers, “Why was this considered an emergency? They could’ve just sent the video to all of us.”

They could have, but then no one would be here to witness what happens next. Tonight is the culmination of all the work I’ve been doing behind the scenes. I study the body language of the people on the dais. Some look bored, others look nervous, and Malcolm looks downright gleeful. A bad feeling comes over me as I scan the crowd again. It’s become clear to me that Pax isn’t in chambers. Next, I search for blood red tipped streaks in dark hair. That bad feeling balloons into dread. “Holden, have you seen Thea?”

Chapter 125

Thea

I’m back in a cell. This time, it’s by choice. The only things in this cell are the cot, and the camera directed towards the bed. I sit on the floor, watching the light flicker on and off. I can do this. I can-I will- survive the worst things they can think up for forty-eight hours.

Footsteps echo down the hall, getting closer and closer, until the mobster is standing in front of the door to my cell. “I didn’t think you’d show up. I wouldn’t have, and others, given the option, didn’t.”

He paces in front of the cell. “Nothing to say? Very well, I felt compelled to come here and give you the safety brief in person.”

“Considering what you put me through the last time, talking safety seems like a waste of time.”

“Would you rather I call them rules? There’s really just one. Once you enter the gauntlet, you can’t leave until you reach the end, or one of my employees pulls you out.”

“I’ll give you forty-eight hours. That’s what I agreed to.”

“We’ll see.”

I count his steps as he walks away, and listen as the door clicks shut. Fifteen steps to a door. I was blindfolded when they brought me in, but I counted one hundred and fifty steps fromthe outside, then a right. Eleven steps, a left, and up a flight of stairs, then another six to this cell. Lazarro’s path must take him deeper into the building.

I repeat the steps in my head, backward and forwards, until I’m sure I can follow them in the dark. Then I count seconds, marking time. I’ve reached twelve minutes when guards show up at my cell door. “It’s time to go.”

We walk along the same route Lazarro traveled, then down a separate set of stairs, and through the door and to the right, down a corridor, and out into a courtyard. A tattered flag waves from the flagpole. A guard station is on my left.

The courtyard fills up quickly. Lazarro says I have to do whatever his highest bidders want, but he forgot to mention that others would be here. Someone, a few places away from me, asks, “What is this place?”

I move my head from side to side, releasing the tension in my neck. I know exactly what it is. I’ve spent plenty of times in places just like it. Lazarro’s taken over an abandoned juvenile detention center.

Through the PA system, a voice says, “Welcome to the gauntlet. For the next forty-eight hours, the patrons who have pledged the most money will put you through any scenario of their choosing. The rules are simple. There are no rules. The activities will continue until you express an unwillingness or inability to compete. In that case, a guard will pull you out. Trust me when I say you don’t want to get pulled out, because what happens then is worse than anything in the gauntlet.”

Someone asks, “What could be worse than the things I’ve heard happens in there?”