Page 21 of Splitting Secrets
Holiday break will begin in a few days. I know Sonny doesn’t have family that gives a fuck, but the others do. When their parents find out they're being held captive beneath the university, they’re going to raise hell.
Which is exactly what I told them.
The prospect of answering to the people who pay their bills has the Supremes reluctantly agreeing and announcing a recess while we sort this out.
I have twenty-four hours.
Of course, they’ve found a new way to piss me off in that short time, though.
Brody and Niles stand outside the door of my interrogation chamber—a small room in an offshoot of the dungeon cells, where I take my especially difficult victims.
James only sends them in when he wants to get under my skin because they’re utterly useless. The two together hardly make up one single brain cell.
“What are you doing here?” I bark out at them as I approach the room.
I already recognize this for what it is: a message to tread lightly. Brody and Niles are not here to help me. They’re here to report my every move.
I guess James doesn’t fully believe that Sonny was just a simple fuck.
“Here for reinforcements. We heard the little one’s feral,” Niles lies.
“Yeah,” Brody laughs. “Heard she even got a hit in on you.”
Niles chuckles beside him, but before he can add anything, I take a warning step toward them. Both of their smiles falter, their eyes dropping to their feet in submission.
I fucking hate dealing with these two. Officially, the Syndicate uses them as a warning before they decide to eliminate someone altogether and send me in. A little slap on the wrist to keep everyone in check. I avoid crossing their paths at all costs for fear of catching their stupidity. They’re simply a muscle that is flexed to show power over the weak.
And as Nulls, their muscle is truly the only thing they’re good for.
“I can handle her myself,” I say through my teeth.
Even if Ellery were a true threat, there’s nothing they could do to thwart any attack. Especially nothing worse than what I can do myself.
Brody shrugs. “We’ll hang out here in case things get dicey.”
“Why don’t you go grab her and bring her to me?” My lips curl into a knowing smile when they share a terrified look.
“Is that a problem?” The question isn’t asked as Dr. Whitlock—annoyed and shrewd. It’s posed as the Viper, a.k.a. the weapon of the Midnight Syndicate. It’s said as a threat.
They shake their heads. “No,” they say in unison. There’s a beat of hesitation before I raise my eyebrow in question, and then they turn on their heels to head toward the dungeon cells.
I don’t waste any time. Slipping into the interrogation room, I keep my movements controlled as I pace around the space, noting every hidden lens. I’ve already got their positions memorized. All thirty-two of them. Each time I come in here, I perform the ritual for the rare instance I may need to take them out.
Today is finally that day.
I slide the table across the floor twelve inches and switch the chairs to opposite ends, just enough to throw off their perfect shot. Then I fall into the seat that faces the doorway.
It takes Brody and Niles an obscene amount of time to return, and when they finally do, I see exactly why.
Ellery is thrashing against them at every step, throwing her fists and elbows around. She even lifts her legs and stomps her heels against the doorway molding to stop them from passing through. They blindly shove her forward, shouldering their way into the room so roughly, I’m afraid they’ll snap her legs. Once they’re in, they throw her onto the floor before backing out with their hands in the air. Brody is sporting a brand new scratch stretching across his entire right cheek, and Miles has a bloody nose.
My little walking nightmare doesn’t settle until the door is tightly closed. Her breathing is labored, chest heaving with every exhale that passes through wheezing lungs. She’s leaning back on her hands, still facing the door and unaware that she’s not alone.
I fight the instinct to go to her and identify her injuries. To touch every inch of her skin and undo the harm that’s been done.
But I can’t do that. Not when we still have an audience.
And not when she’s been convinced I’m her enemy.
