Page 54 of Ghosted in Arkadia
“Oh, right. I’m sure he didn’t tell you. The brothers got their Katherines mixed up. Katherine with aKwas meant to be Calvin’s. Catherine with aC,”Roman looks at me pointedly, “was meant to be Kalon’s. But let’s be honest. You were really made for me.”
Something inside my heart shatters. Calvin. Brother.
Catherine was meant to be Kalon’s, which I’m pretty sure is Killian.MyCathy was meant to be with Killian. He’s her soulmate.
“She’s not Catherine,” Killian growls. “Catherine died. This is just my partner at the police station. She’s a mateless nobody.”
It feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and thrown to the floor to be crushed under the heel of everyone in the room.
“He’s right,” I say, having a hard time getting the words to come out despite knowing it’s in my best interest. “My name is Kira. Cathy was my partner. She died a few months ago.”
Roman’s eyes narrow as he slowly looks me up and down, disappointment rolling off him in waves. “What a pity. I was going to enjoy breeding you.”
“Breeding me? What the actual fuck?” I spit, feeling relieved to know that being the wrong one at least saved me from that future.
Roman scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking back at Killian. “I’m not going to waste my time explaining things to a commoner. But you,” he points his steepled fingers at Killian, “why did you come to visit me? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you? It’s been a few decades, but come on. The hair, the attitude. Sure, you’ve gotten a few more scars.” He pauses, blatantly staring at the patch covering Killian’s missing eye. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know exactly who you were the moment you stepped foot in the room?”
Killian remains silent.
I need answers for my own mental stability, but I also need to survive this encounter, and from the looks of things, Killian isn’t who I thought he was. Roman's eyes are glued to Killian, and I creep my cuffed hands toward the top of my boot. The one with the knife hidden inside.
“I was hoping you would lead me to the other thirteen. Just like you lead me to the first Katherine.” Roman smiles when his words cause Killian to stiffen. “They were always supposed to be mine. Both of them. That’s why my father had Dr. Ledger make them. Your father only made you and your brother as tests.”
“I know what I am,” Killian says, keeping Roman’s full attention while my hand slowly inches closer to its goal. “You’re lucky you had Nigel for a father.”
“Trying to poke at old scars, Kalon?” Roman laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They stay dark, pointed, and set to devour. “Then again, I would much rather have my scars and be the king. You’re just a lab rat.”
I can feel Killian stiffen more than see him out of the corner of my eye. My hand crawls ever closer, just inside my boot, as I search for the hard metal of the knife. Just a few more minutes.
I hear a dog bark outside the lab, then the shots start. Roman whips his head around, using his chin to direct the guard to open the door and see what is going on. The moment he does, all the lights cut off, and I am plunged into absolute darkness.
There isn’t time to waste, and I fling myself off my chair, landing on the hard floor. I reach my bound hands into my boot, feeling around until my fingertips finally brush against the smooth metal. It takes some dexterous movement to pull the knife into my palms, but I don’t struggle to release the blade with a simple flick of my wrists.
It’s not much, but at least it’s something.
I can’t tell where Killian is, or Roman for that matter. But right now, I’m not sure I want either of them to know where I am. Instead, I stay low and make my way toward what I think is a wall.
The outline of the doorway illuminates for a brief second as a shot is fired from someone’s gun, giving me a general sense of orientation. My eyes adjust to the darkness, but it’s not enough to move with confidence.
Then the noise starts.
Loud. Heavy music blares, reminding me of the booby trapped building the night of the raid. I half expect smoke from a fog machine to roll in next, but it doesn’t. I hear voices shouting directives and orders.
Then I hear the clear voice of Roman outside the doorway. “Get the lights back on. Call the backup security. I don’t care if the phones are down. Get. It. Done.”
I use a trick I learned in the academy. I feel for the keyhole on the cuffs and find it in the middle. That’s good. They are the basic style.
I flip the blade, feeling the other side for the small pair of tweezers hidden inside. I spread the prongs apart, crafting a tool I can use to stick into the keyhole. Once inside, I wiggle it around until I can feel the slight resistance, then push until I hear a click. The double lock has been disengaged.
A rush of excitement runs through me, but I’m not done yet.
Next, I take the tweezers and carefully maneuver them into the arm of the cuffs. There’s a slight space just big enough to wedge the metal until it won’t go any further. From here, it’s just some maneuvering. I push down on the tweezers and the arm, wiggling and finessing the metal until it covers the teeth of the arm inside. Then I can pull the cuff arm free.
I’ve done it. I slip my hand free and don’t bother with the other cuff for now. At least I can move my hands independently. While I have the blade handy, I grab the hem of my beautiful dress and cut jagged strips from the bottom so it doesn’t trip me.
I finally get my movie moment when I grab my knife and cut into my palm. Blood wells as a hiss escapes from my lips. I pull the long sleeve of my dress up, revealing the skin of my arm while I dip a finger into the well of blood in my palm.
Bill Roman
