Chapter 18

Eighteen

I don’t touch the food. I know I won’t be able to keep it down even if I try. Instead, I pace, and I think, trying to process everything that has happened and digest the information overload.

My father’s words are finally sinking in, but they make absolutely no sense. What is The Den? What is this formula he was talking about? What the hell is he king of? And what the fuck are we?! And... Anders. Even with his betrayal, he didn’t deserve to die. Not like that.

And so I keep pacing. As far as my still-bound leg will let me go in each direction. I freeze in place when I hear footsteps approach sometime later. I look up at the window and try to gauge how much time has passed, but aside from the sun clearly being up now, I can’t tell if it’s been twenty minutes, or two hours.

The key sounds in the lock, and my father walks in as if he hasn’t dropped bomb after bomb on my life, on my reality, for the last couple of days.

“Are you ready to leave this all behind and start your new life, daughter?”

Nope. Not even a little. I don’t want anything he’s offering, and I sure as shit don’t intend on drinking the Kool-Aid, but I do want out of here. And I still have no idea what’s going on.

Maybe he is crazy, but with the kind of money he seems to have, he’s managed to get others to buy into his fantasy world. There is one thing I know for sure, though, and that is I will do whatever it takes to survive this and get free. So, if he wants a dutiful daughter—a princess, an heir—I will be whatever he wants me to be. Until I can escape.

“Yes, my king. I’m ready,” I say, lowering my eyes and bowing my head slightly.

I have no idea if I am meant to curtsy, or even how to curtsy. I don’t want to overdo it, so I go with what I hope is a safe bet—demure deference.

“Good,” he practically purrs, walking up to me. He gently grabs my chin with his thumb and forefinger, lifting my head. I raise my eyes to his but keep my face soft. Not happy—let’s not be unrealistic here—but no fear or anger. Most importantly, I keep my smart mouth shut .

“First things first. Let’s get you all cleaned up and more presentable. We can’t have people seeing you, or smelling you, like this.”

Multiple hurried footsteps sound outside the cell, running down the hall towards us. My father turns, startled by the sudden noise. I guess this wasn’t part of the plan. Morven and his lackey slide to a stop outside the cell door, both huffing heavily.

“Sire, they’re here. We must get you and the princess out before they break through the outer walls. I have called up to the roof, and the pilot is starting the pre-flight checks. He will be ready to take off by the time you get there.”

I haven’t known my father long, but seeing his face pale at this news is a little shocking. Even when he hit me, when he shot Anders, his face remained pretty calm. If I wasn’t scared before, I definitely am now.

“Morven, key,” my father says, holding his hand out expectantly as he strides over to him. “I will take Aria up to the landing pad. Grab the drive from the security room and meet us up there, fast.”

Morven fishes in his pocket, and hands the key over to my father, then turns and runs back out of the cell, dragging his lackey with him.

“Be quick, girl, we don’t have much time,” my father says, throwing me the key from where he stands in the cell doorway.

I bend down and undo the padlock holding the cuff on my ankle together, then hurry to his side just as a loud explosion sounds, making the walls shake and flakes of concrete fall from the ceiling.

“Stay close.”

I merely nod and rush to keep up with him as I finally take my first steps out of the cell, all thoughts of escape leaving me. Now there is only survival. I will have to trust my father to get me out safely, and I can worry about getting away from him later.

Mine is the last in a hall of cells, on the end, and others are on either side of the hall. They’re staggered so the doors open to a blank wall, not the opposite cell. Just like mine, they all have metal doors which are currently closed, but the banging I hear as we pass suggests there are other occupants. Hurrying to the secure door at the other end of the hall, my father presses his thumb to a pad on the wall beside it. The panel lights up green and the door unlocks.

As soon as it slides open, I hear shouting and gunfire close by. My father puts out his arm to stop me from passing through the doorway and pulls out a handgun from a holster underneath his jacket that I hadn’t noticed until now. He leans forwards and assesses the room ahead, then shoots me a quick look that blatantly indicates for me not to move. I lose sight of him briefly as he prowls through the doorway, but moments later he is back, motioning for me to follow him again.

I step through into what appears to be a mess-type hall, with tables and stools bolted to the ground to the left, metal stairs running up two of the side walls, and what looks like a guardroom in the middle. Truly, it looks like every prison I have ever seen in movies, but I don’t have time to take in the finer details as we rush up the staircase to our right and onto a metal catwalk that surrounds the second story of the mess hall.

There are more cells along the walls here, but with clear fronts. Thankfully, the cells we pass seem empty this time, and we quickly arrive at another security door with a thumbprint scanner.