Twenty-Five Tobias

Islammed my door shut, not caring whether anyone heard. I'd completely lost my mind. I glanced at my dead-as-a-doorknob phone, tapping the blank screen, hoping the damn thing would come back to life. "Shit." I needed a fucking charger, but how could I do that without letting Sterling know that I'd smuggled a phone into the compound? At least I was able to send Zero those images before it died on me.

I tucked the phone under my pillow before beelining to the bathroom for a well-needed shower, hoping to wash away any traces of Abel from my body. I could still smell him; the musky scent of his cock, the bleach-like scent of his spunk, and his fresh breath. Reliving my encounter with him awakened something inside me, beyond the lust pent up deep within. I stood under the cold spray of the shower, cooling the inferno ignited by the most unlikely person. I should feel guilty; remorse for fucking around with my best friend's son. He's Oliver's kid, for Christ's sake. But why did he feel so right?

No, Tobias. No more. I'd taken a few wrong turns with my mission to free Oliver's family from this forsaken place, but those shenanigans stopped today. Before I couldn't find my way back.

Shuffling coming from my room caught my attention. I turned the water off and listened. There was definitely someone inside. It's fucking late. I'd probably woken the guards next door. That would teach me to control my anger and frustrations. I pulled the towel from the hook and wrapped it around my waist. My wet feet slapped on the floor and water dripped down my body, making puddles of my quick steps back to my room.

One of the guards—the short one with a smug face—was inside.

"What happened here?" he asked, pointing to the glassless window.

"Dunno," I answered.

He studied my room in silence before his attention landed on my drenched body. He smirked; his gaze zoned in on my chest. His beady eyes danced with delight, widening and traveling down to my crotch. The fucker swallowed hard, dragging his tongue over his chapped lips.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, dashing to the drawer to grab a fresh pair of underwear.

"I heard a noise," he answered. "I wanna make sure anyone who shouldn't be here isn't here."

I ignored his insinuation. With my back still to him, I continued. "It's just me, so you can get the hell out."

Steps neared; I could feel his presence inches away from me. He smelled like cigarettes and a bad case of BO. He drew a deep breath and moaned. "Mmmm. What do you have over here?" His hand landed on my shoulder, but it didn't stay there long.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" I swatted his hand away and turned. The creep was rubbing his crotch with a sadistic grin on his face. I grabbed his neck and pinned him to the wall. "Fucking touch me again and I'll rip your hand off."

He slapped my hand to free himself from my grip, but he was no match for me. I had to give it to him though—he was strong for his small frame.

I released him and stepped back. "Get near me again and you're dead," I warned. He'd be lying on the floor and screaming in pain if we were in the real world. In The Creed, I had to play by their rules. Not for long, motherfuckers.

He chuckled, unaffected by my threat, which doubled my irritation. "You're not my type anyway. I like 'em … young," he concluded, like a bonafide perverted maniac, before stalking out of my room.

My blood boiled when I remembered how he'd eye-banged Abel on my first day in the cult. The prospect of any guy touching Abel, especially a psycho like him, made me see red. Touch him and you're dead. I checked that my phone was still under my pillow, thankful the creep hadn't found it. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed my shoulders. No more messing around.

Insomnia arrived like an unwelcome guest crashing my brain. It only showed up when stress or anxiety decided to throw a party in my head, which was not often, since I made sure I didn't expose myself to things I couldn't control, but I'd done the exact opposite since I answered that phone call from Oliver. It had only gotten worse since I met Abel.

The night was as black as my mood, and every fucking creak in my shitty room felt like it was mocking me. I tossed and turned, trying to find a position that would grant me even a shred of comfort, but it was hopeless. My mind was a carnival, with every thought of escaping the cult with the Marshalls, the upcoming fight, and Abel racing around like a bunch of drunk clowns.

I hauled my sorry ass out of bed and shuffled over to the window. The room felt like a damn prison cell, and the walls seemed to be closing in on me. I took deep and steady breaths of fresh air coming from the broken window. I hope they don't send someone to fix it.

The world outside was quiet, the kind of stillness that was so loud it was deafening. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, trying to drown out the worries in my head. But it was useless. Sleep was playing hard to get, and it was winning once again. All I could do was wait for the night to bleed into day.

By the time Sunday morning arrived, I'd spent the entire evening thinking about Abel. I was staring at the ceiling when one of the guards—one I didn't recognize—opened my bedroom door without bothering to knock. "No training today," he said.

"Why not?" I sat up, reaching for my shirt folded neatly at the foot of my bed.

He shrugged. "Because it's Sunday."

This was fantastic news. Orcus had given the young men a break, which meant a free day for me to figure out our escape plan, even without Abel's approval. I'd drag his ass out of here if I had to. "So I'm free to do whatever, then?"

A laugh escaped his lips. "Free," he murmured before heading out.

Fuck you. I barely had my pants on when Sterling peeked into my room.

"Hey, are you ready?" he asked. His somber voice caught me by surprise. What made Sterling stand out from the group of militant guards in the cult was his bright disposition—he always had a smile on his face. He was growing on me. Having him around wasn't half bad, after all.

"Yeah. What's up?" I asked, lacing my combat boots.

"You're with me today," he said.

So much for having a day to myself. This wasn't how I wanted to spend my free day. "Where are we going?"

Sterling sighed. He looked at the floor when he answered. "Orcus wants your opinion about something."

"Sure," I agreed, even though I had a feeling this wasn't a request but an order coming from their leader.

Sterling saw himself out, almost bumping into the door frame when he exited my room. Something was definitely amiss with him.

Don't get yourself involved, I told myself. That was the last thing I needed. "I'll be out in a minute." I grabbed my phone and tucked it inside my right boot. There had to be a charger around somewhere.

I chose to follow behind Sterling, giving him space. He clearly had something going on, judging by his stiff posture and balled fists. A few hallways later, we approached Abel's bunkroom. The door was half open, and the guys' conversation and laughter traveled out. The atmosphere in the room shifted when they spotted us passing by. Voices hushed and stares followed our steps. Sterling didn't pay them any attention and continued on.

My eyes connected with Abel's as we passed. Heat crept up my neck when he flashed me the brightest smile, taking my breath away.

Last night, as insomnia gripped me, my mind was consumed by the impact of Abel's presence. When we were together, time seemed to warp, as if nothing else existed. I didn't know how to explain it, or perhaps I lacked the emotional intelligence to truly understand, but I knew we both felt alone and seemed to find comfort with each other. I could unburden myself of memories, emotions, and experiences I'd never told another soul, and that rattled me to the core. He had the ability to erase my existential loneliness in a way no one else had. Kill me! How fucking cliché was that?

Whatever this was with Abel could really screw up my already messed-up life. Nothing good and promising ever went my way, so this had to be nothing but bad news waiting to happen—if it hadn't already.

I shook my head and looked away before he saw the smile emerging on my face. I wouldn't recognize me if I saw myself right now—smiling and caring about someone's changed demeanor. This was foreign territory, and it was scaring the shit out of me.

We continued our trek outside and into a cellar door jutting from the ground. It was the door that had piqued my curiosity when I scouted the premise days ago, but stayed away because it was heavily guarded. It was the same door from the images Zero had given us. About time I got to see what else was lurking out here.

I was in killer mode and on full alert. Two armed men stood on the other side next to the entrance. I discreetly checked the space and counted six different cameras mounted on metal posts, tree trunks, and the concrete walls. What the hell is in there? The two guards seemed unaffected by our presence; they didn't even blink.

Sterling acknowledged them with a nod before tapping his fob to the black control pad attached to the wall. The lock clicked and he pulled the lever down. We climbed down the stairs and, once inside the bunker, the lights came to life one by one, illuminating long narrow aisles pointing in different directions. The small door outside was deceiving, hiding a maze of corridors underground.

"After you." I motioned for Sterling to keep going.

He led the way to one of the hallways, leading us to another door controlled by a keypad.

I glanced at Sterling to gauge his reaction: still nothing. I didn't know him well, but I could read people and their body language. And the shift in his demeanor was night and day. "Is everything okay with you, man?" I asked. My question was met with more silence; I doubted he'd even heard. "Sterling!" I yelled, elbowing his side.

Sterling jumped. "Huh?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh. Yeah," he answered. "I'm okay, I guess."

I stopped walking and faced him. "Are you sure?"

He looked up at the cameras mounted on the ceiling. "I'm okay," he reiterated. He was more convincing this time, but I didn't buy it for one second. It was an act. "We're almost there." He pointed at the closed metal door. 1-2-2-5. He didn't bother trying to conceal the code he entered into the keypad. Seconds later, the automatic door opened.

I held my breath as we stepped in. Walls of monitors greeted us, feeds of black-and-white reels playing on each screen, depicting different angles of the cult's most heavily guarded sites. Another pair of guards stationed in the room acknowledged our presence with a quick glance before resuming their duties. I'd die of boredom staring at a screen for hours.

My heart began to race as a thought occurred. My eyes frantically searched for feed from all the locations I'd traveled with Abel. Reassurance flooded my senses; the blind spots I'd discovered were indeed shadow zones. I followed Sterling across the room to a smaller room with a design that mimicked the setup outside. With a notable exception: there was only one monitor, much larger than the one in the previous room, and it was turned off.

"What's this place?" I asked. One of the oddest things about The Creed was some of the buildings. They appeared to be in disrepair from the outside, but intact and updated within. The dilapidated facade hid a heavily guarded modern interior, a contrast that didn't make sense.

"This is the control room," Sterling answered, pulling two chairs out.

"And what are we doing here?"

He turned on the large flat-screen monitor and flipped open a laptop. "We need to match up the guys," he said nonchalantly, as if I had a clue what he was talking about.

His computer screen mirrored what was showing on the giant monitor, so I was able to watch him navigate through the files. Sterling opened a folder titled Batch10. The folder prompted him to enter a password and he entered the same sets of digits as the keypad outside.

A dozen thumbnails covered the screen; each one appeared to be a clip from a fight. Sterling selected the first file and pressed play. There was nothing remarkable about the reel at first. Two men built like Abel sized each other up, walking in circles sideways, never taking their sight off one another. They were barefoot and half-naked, wearing nothing but a pair of tight black shorts. The camera panned out, showcasing the entire ring.

"Was this taken here?" I asked.

Sterling answered with a curt nod.

"Where's the ref?"

"Dunno."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I haven't seen a fight in person." Sterling looked at me, horror reflecting in his eyes. "I hadn't seen any fights until last night, when I watched these matches." His shaking hands tugged his hair. "Fuck." He took a deep breath before swiveling his chair away, turning his back to the laptop.

I pulled the other chair closer and focused on the screen. On it, the bell rang and combat began. Out of the gate, I could tell who would win the match. The bigger dude used techniques the other guy lacked. Undercuts, hooks, kicks … name it and he deployed it. One blow to the smaller guy's jaw had him kneeling to the ground.

"Is that guy from here?" I pointed at the young man kneeling on the ring. Blood dripped from his split eyebrow and mouth, pooling with saliva on the mat.

Sterling returned his attention to the monitor and nodded. His eyes were blankly staring at the match, but I doubted he was watching.

"And him?" I pointed to the man still on his feet.

He shook his head. "I haven't seen him before."

"Then why was he there?" I reached for the laptop and fast-forwarded until the guy on the floor was back on his feet. What he lacked in skills, he made up for in determination. He attacked the bigger guy but missed every single punch. The underdog was brought into a head lock when his opponent grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. The underdog elbowed his opponent with his free elbow, but the bigger guy had it locked. The video was muted, but I could see the young man scream for his life.

The victorious guy looked up at the crowd that was bathed in darkness and flashed a deranged smile before snapping the other guy's neck.

The young guy's arms fell limp to his side; his lifeless head flopped at an awkward angle before the victor pushed him away like a rag doll.

"Holy fucking shit!" I yelled. "What the fuck was that?" I'd seen the worst of humankind, and very few things in this world caught me off guard. I killed for a living, erasing any traces of my target by burning them to ashes. Literally. And yet my stomach dropped after watching that video. I'm a murderer, but I have principles.

Abel. A visceral fear about him experiencing the same fate almost brought me to my knees. I glanced at Sterling and wondered what he was thinking. His face was void of emotion. He seemed to be operating on autopilot. No wonder he'd been acting odd all morning.

I cleared my dry throat. "What happened to him?" I asked, tapping the motionless guy in the ring on the screen. "Sterling, I need you to answer me."

"No clue."

"How about this guy?" I pointed to the other man, celebrating as if he'd just won a fucking gold medal.

"I don't know, Toby. This is messed up." Sterling bowed his head, his shoulders heaving. "This is messed up," he repeated. "I didn't sign up for this shit."

"Sterling." I pivoted his chair so he was facing me. "Look at me."

It took him a few seconds, but when we were face-to-face, I couldn't miss the horror etched on his face and the fear in his glistening eyes.

"I need you to keep it together for me, okay?" I clutched his shoulders to get his attention. "At least until we're outta here. Can you do that?"

Sterling wiped his face with the backs of his hands and took a couple of deep breaths. He nodded. "I can do that."

"Good. Who watches these fights?"

"Gamblers. Underground gamblers willing to spend millions of dollars for a show. The other guards told me that boxing and MMA don't do it for these people. They said these fights were streamed on the dark web." Sterling shook his head vigorously. "I had nothing to do with this. You have to believe me."

I'd heard about these rings in the past, but I never thought I'd come face-to-face with one. "I believe you," I said. "It's gonna be tough, but let's finish what Orcus wants us to do."

"I can't watch anymore." Sterling put his head in his hands.

"Okay, okay," I said, calming him down. "Sit over there and I'll watch the rest." I pointed to the corner of the room, near the door, away from the monitor.

"Thank you," he said.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and braced myself for the horror I was about to endure.

Sterling closed the folder and turned the monitor off after the final video ended. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said, his face the palest shade of beige.

As he promised, Sterling kept it together. He led us past the multiple checkpoints until we were outside.

Once we passed the last armed guard, Sterling released a strangled sigh before he dashed to a bush behind a tall pine tree. He was hunchbacked with his hands on his knees, vomiting, when I reached him. "I can't fucking do this anymore. I can't. I just can't," he whimpered.

I waited until he was somewhat composed. "How long have you been here?" I'd meant to ask him when we were inside, but he was in an awful state of mind.

"Four months," he said.

That explained why he was different from the rest. "How did you end up here?"

Sterling lifted his shirt and wiped his face. "I owe a lot of money, and I met this guy who said he could help me," Sterling began. "He was Orcus's right-hand man. You know."

I nodded, urging him to carry on. Maybe his story could help me understand how Oliver and his family ended up here. "And …?"

"He took me to Orcus and told me that he could pay all the money I owed as long as I worked for him. Here." Sterling pointed to the ground. "All I had to do was stay a year for every hundred thousand I owed."

"How much did you owe?"

"Three hundred grand." Sterling looked away, as though embarrassed by his admission.

"It's okay, man. You don't have to tell me anymore." I'd heard what I wanted to hear. "Let's go back."

"No, you don't understand. I'm not a bad person," Sterling protested, grabbing my elbow before I took my first step. "My wife had a terrible accident. She passed out while driving and hit a tree. We later found out that she had an undiagnosed issue with very low blood sugar." The mention of his wife caused more tears to fall. "The doctors had to amputate her legs above her knees. Medical bills piled up, the house payments were late, and before we knew it, we were hundreds of thousands in debt."

"I get it, buddy. I do," I assured him. One more reason why I chose to be alone.

"Orcus's offer was too good to pass up. I told myself I could do it for three years."

"Where's your wife?" The question escaped my lips before I had the chance to filter my words.

"Rehab center in Oregon."

"Good." I nodded, tapping his back. Did Oliver bring his family here because of debt? It had to be significant if they were still here. Why didn't he come to me?

"I wanna get out of here, Toby. But I dunno how."

I thought about his declaration, a plan brewing in my head. "I might have a way, but I need you to do something for me."

"I'll do it. Whatever you need. Just get me outta here."

"First, I need you to start acting like nothing has changed after what we just saw. Can you do that?"

"I can do that." Sterling nodded decisively. "What else?"

"That's it for now."

First things first: I needed to get to Abel.