Chapter 22

chapter

twenty-two

The Re-education Chamberwas a rusted shipping container plunked down in the middle of the commune's gardens. The damn thing looked innocuous, like its only crime would be messing up someone's Instagram shot of the grapevines. But inside, it was a whole other game.

It was hot and smelled of piss and sweat. There was a single chair bolted to the floor with leather straps on the armrests and legs. A rolling cart held an ominous contraption that looked suspiciously like an old electric shock therapy machine.

Fuck.

"Put the mute one in the chair," Sincere ordered from behind them.

The men shoved Cal down in the corner and chained him to the wall by his hands while Pierce was forced into the chair. Pierce's eyes were flat, and his jaw set as the leather straps cinched around his wrists and ankles.

"Comfortable?" Sincere approached Pierce with a serpentine grin. He caressed the old machine like a lover, flicked a switch and humming filled the dank air.

The sound was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Cal's ears. His eyes met Pierce's across the room. The former soldier didn't say anything—couldn't say anything with his hands strapped down—but his gaze burned with silent hatred.

Sincere lifted two gleaming electrodes and walked back to Pierce. He placed them on either side of his captive's temples.

"You can stop this," Sincere said casually. "Just tell me where Ellie went."

Cal gritted his teeth. He'd chew his damn tongue off before he gave them anything.

"No?" Sincere started flipping the switches on the antiquated machine. The damn thing whirred like a dying animal, and Cal could see the fear flicker in Pierce's eyes for just a split second before they turned back to granite. He shook his head, silently telling Cal not to say anything.

Seeing Pierce there, strapped to that chair, stoic as a stone— it made him wish he could just take his place.

"No," he snarled finally. "We're not telling you a fucking thing."

Sincere chuckled, a dark sound that echoed in the confines of the chamber. "Let's see how long that resolve lasts."

With that, he cranked a dial on the machine and Pierce went rigid in the chair, every muscle in his body straining against the leather straps. His eyes met Cal's, a silent plea for him to stay strong. Funny how he was the one being tortured, but was worried about Cal. He didn't make a sound, but his dark eyes shot wide in pain, the muscles in his neck taut under the strain.

"I don't know where Ellie is," Cal said.

The goddamn machine whirred to life once more. Sweat poured off Pierce like rain down a windshield. Blood trickled from where he'd bitten into his own lip. His veins stood out on

And still he didn't make a sound.

Sincere cranked the knob further and Pierce's body convulsed violently, his mouth falling open in a hoarse whisper of a scream that was the first sound Cal had ever heard the man make.

"No! Stop! You'll kill him. I swear I don't know where she is or what she's doing." Cal fought against his restraints, his heart pounding mercilessly against his chest. He met Pierce's gaze once more—those eyes were still stoic, but now bloodshot and streaming tears. It was a sight he knew would be seared into his memory forever.

Then Pierce's gaze shifted to Sincere and in a barely-there rasp of a voice that sounded painful, he whispered, "Fuck. You."

Sincere simply smiled, an expression that was all teeth and no warmth.

It went on like that for minutes— hours— an eternity until finally someone knocked on the container's door and Sincere stepped back, panting with elation or exhaustion, Cal couldn't tell which one.

Hopeful stepped in and scanned the scene without a flicker of emotion. "Anything?"

"He's strong, I'll give him that," Sincere chuckled, wiping off sweat from his forehead like he'd just finished a satisfying workout. But his eyes were wild, manic with a sense of power that made Cal's stomach roll with disgust.

Pierce was no longer convulsing; he was barely conscious, sagging against the restraints like a puppet with its strings cut. His breaths came out in ragged gasps, sweat coating his face and matting his dark hair into inky spikes. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

"So you've gotten nothing useful?" Hopeful stared with those icy gray eyes that held a deep well of nothing. His gaze was dismissive like he was seeing something not worthy of his time. "Time is running out. Your Mother God needs answers before The Great Renewal arrives."

"Then perhaps we should change our focus," Sincere replied, moving towards Cal.

Fear wrapped icy fingers around Cal's spine, but he held his ground. "I don't know where Ellie is," he repeated for the hundredth time, the words forming a cold, hard knot in his throat.

God, he hoped she was safe.

Hopeful seemed to study him for a long, cold minute before finally turning his attention back to Sincere. "Leave him," he said finally. "We have other priorities now, and we need to prepare."

As Sincere moved back to shut down the machine, a fever-bright, fanatical gleam appeared in his eyes. Why hadn't he seen that before? It was impossible to miss.

Despite himself, Cal exhaled in relief when the humming stopped. He watched as Hopeful turned to leave the chamber, his robe billowing behind him like some goddamn messiah in a B-rated movie and Sincere on his heels. He waited a few minutes to ensure they were gone before climbing to his feet and walking as close to Pierce as his chains would allow.

"Pierce? Jesus. I'm so sorry. Talk to me." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized how stupid they were. Pierce couldn't talk. "Give me some kind of sign you're okay."

Pierce's eyes flicked open. "Not... your… fault," he mouthed, each word a struggle.

His voice was like glass-spiked shards of gravel and sounded so painful that Cal winced in symphony. "Don't talk, man."

Pierce's eyes narrowed in silent defiance before the lids drooped, the effort visibly draining him. A moment later, he slumped forward against his restraints, unconscious.

"Fuck!" Cal pulled on his chains, but it was useless. He couldn't get closer to Pierce, couldn't help him. Frustration and helplessness strangled him, and he vented it with a furious yank on the chain. The shackles bit into his wrists but he relished the pain. Anything was better than the icy fear twisting his gut.

He'd always believed that everyone deserved a fair chance, a chance to be heard, to tell their side of the story. He'd wholeheartedly thought everyone deserved to have someone on their side.

But now?

Fuck that.

Hopeful and Sincere and all the rest of those deranged lunatics playing god didn't deserve a damn thing. Except maybe a first-class ticket straight to hell.

Minutes passed like hours. Or maybe it was actually hours? Time had lost all meaning and Pierce hadn't so much as twitched.

The silence was oppressive, a tomb-like stillness that soaked into Cal's bones and messed with his head. He tried to fight the sleepiness creeping in, but it was a losing battle.

Finally, the door creaked open again, startling him awake. His heart lodged in his throat as he prepared for another round of Sincere's twisted games, but instead of the psychopath, it was a girl in a white robe, her silhouette outlined in gold by the rising sun.

Like an angel.

Cal blinked, not entirely sure he could trust what he was seeing. "Hello?" His voice was hoarse.

The girl tilted her head and stared at him with an intensity that had him shifting uncomfortably. She was a small thing. Young, with pale blue-green eyes too old for her age. Her dark hair curled around her heart-shaped face.

She moved forward and Cal tensed, expecting more pain. But instead, she passed him and moved towards Pierce.

She reached out with pale hands to touch Pierce's face, her fingers tracing his sweat-dampened skin with surprising gentleness.

And the pieces finally clicked into place in his sluggish brain. "You're True, aren't you? You called me for help."

She glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded once before returning her attention back to Pierce, wiping the blood from his mouth with the sleeve of her pristine robe. "I was scared, but I shouldn't have involved you."

"You didn't ‘involve' anyone. You asked for help when you needed it, and that's okay."

She stroked a hand over Pierce's head in an almost motherly way. "You're suffering because of me."

Cal forced a smile. "Pierce and I are tough cookies. We'll be okay. We're here because want to help you."

She shook her head. "It's too late."

"Too late for what?"

She didn't answer, just continued silently wiping away the blood and sweat from Pierce's face.

Okay. Maybe she'd be more responsive if he tried another tactic. "True, I know your aunts, Ellie and Alexis."

Her gaze snapped to his. "The woman that was here with you is my aunt?"

"Yes. She's been looking for you and your mom for a long time. So has Alexis."

She finally settled Pierce back, so he wasn't straining against the leather straps, then turned to face Cal. "I was told I don't have any family left except—" she broke off and didn't seem inclined to finish the thought.

"Except these nutjobs?" Cal finished for her, glancing around the grimy container. "They lied."

True blinked, her pale eyes round in the dim light and so much like Ellie's.

"They always lie," she said with a sad kind of resignation. "But it doesn't matter. It's too late."

"I don't understand. Why is it too late?"

The morning chime sounded in the distance, and she inhaled sharply, hurrying back toward the door.

"True, wait!"

She paused but didn't look back. "Don't eat or drink what they give you today."

And then she was gone.