Page 35 of One More Chance

“Well, this is fun.” Jax flipped on his camera flashlight. “Long hallway.”

She peered around his shoulders, her hands on his hips. “Lead the way since you wanted to go first, and we can’t go back now.”

She should be able to feel the cuts on her hand, but all she could feel was the dampness of the bandage around her injury. If someone was at the end of this ridiculous maze, she was going to ask them why her hand didn’t hurt. Had there been something in the glass of the TV?

Or in her?

Everything went back to the doctor. A man who was supposed to have also altered these people the way he had altered her.There’s no cure for what you are.Maybe they hadenough experience with what’d been done to them to know there was no fighting it and no way to reverse it.

She prayed, not liking the way she was feeling right now. Maybe she would always struggle with control—maybe everyone did. It seemed like she should have a handle on things. That she should be able to work the outcome in her favor. But if that was true, then it would remove any faith from the equation.

If she didn’t need to trust and have faith, then what good was that belief? She wouldn’t need God, in that case, because she would be the lord of her own life.

The door ahead of them clicked open.

Jax went through it, gun first. She had her hand close to hers. Ready to pull it, just in case. But the trust she had in her husband was a great example. Jax would take care of whatever they faced, and he would give it all to protect her. She wanted to do the same for him. That’s why she was backing him up with every step.

Light flickered on in the room that was larger than any they’d been in so far. This one was a long hallway, wide enough it might have been some kind of garage or storage room. Now, it had a fake fireplace halfway down the left wall and huge portrait paintings on the other side, hanging up on the double-height wall so the images towered over them.

Men in World War II–era uniforms.

Two or maybe three chandeliers hung over a long table set for dinner.

“Come in. Have a seat. After all, you’ve made it this far.” He had a strong voice, but the man himself was barely five-foot-two. “I’m One.”

Three other men stood.

One said, “This is Three, Four, and Five.”

No Two.

Kenna glanced at each man. They looked to be about mid-fifties, which was impossible if they’d first been experimented on in the nineteen fifties. That was over seventy years ago.

They all wore jeans and buttoned shirts, some plain and others stripy. Different color hair and skin tones. Three and Five had tanned complexions that told her they didn’t live down here all the time. One was the broadest and moved like the alpha. His shiny bald head resembled the doctor’s. Four had stark white hair and a ring on his right pinkie finger.

One waved them over and took a seat on the far side. “There is good food, and we have much to discuss.”

Jax put a hand on the small of her back. Not ushering her over to the table but supporting her and allowing her to make the decision.

The four men were on one side of the table, all in a row. Two place settings had been laid on the other side.

As if they’d been expected.

“We know who you are.” Not that she knew all that was going on. But finally, she had a chance to get answers. “Maybe you could tell us why all of this was necessary when we just came here to talk to you.”

“So let’s talk.” Five grabbed a hunk of bread from a basket at the center of the table. He pulled off a small piece and tossed it into his mouth. “Before the food gets cold.”

She sat, putting both her hands on the table.

All four men stared at her hand that was wrapped in a towel.

“Where’s Two?” she asked.

One lifted his chin, motioning to the towel. “What’s that?”

Beside her, Jax didn’t reach for any food or his utensils. He slid out his phone under the table and unlocked it, keeping his attention on the men across the table.

“I punched the TV,” Kenna said. “One, Three, Four, and Five. So where’s Two?”

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