24

You are more than your mistakes.

Knots coiled tightly around her neck as she stared at the dim bulb on the opposite wall of the cell. It flickered every few seconds, barely holding onto its power.

The other prisoners probably didn’t even notice.

The smallest object driving away darkness.

Any moment, it might dim into nothingness, and only then would they realize what had been lighting their way the entire time.

A low grunt sounded next to her, taking her attention away from the unappreciated bulb. She glanced over at Takeshi doing pushups on the floor.

He maintained a steady, rhythmic pace.

Not slowing down. Not tiring. His face was granite-smooth as he lowered himself to the ground over and over.

“How many is that?” she asked. “A hundred?”

“Or several.” Takeshi didn’t look at her as he spoke. He just kept driving downward.

The fact that he still had energy to expend after spending hours mining and hauling heavy rocks was beyond her comprehension.

“Doesn’t it hurt? Don’t you get tired?” She rested her arm on her knee, studying him.

Takeshi paused mid-pushup and looked at her, the hard cords of his triceps bulging even under the dim lighting. “Being tired and feeling pain are just states of mind. We all have limits. I’ve simply trained my body to extend past those limits.”

His defiant words brought her back to their training sessions in Braderhelm.

“I knew you were a quitter.”

He’d stand over her in prison, slinging harsh accusations like whips. Takeshi had made it his personal mission to push her harder than anyone else underground, and it only fueled her rage, driving Khalani to work until her bones screamed to break.

A light suddenly went off in her head, like the one shimmering across the cell.

How many chances would she get to be locked in a tiny cell with her longtime nemesis—and maybe get a little payback of her own?

“You know,” she began, “with how fast you’re doing those, you’re probably not working hard enough.”

Takeshi didn’t bother replying, but she noticed his pace quicken, even though he’d already been moving at breakneck speed for an hour without stopping.

“Yeah,” she yawned, feigning boredom. “Definitely looks like you’re taking it easy. I’ve seen Brock do one-armed pushups with no sweat.”

Khalani twisted her lips to smother her grin as Takeshi glared at the floor. He twisted his head, narrowing his gaze.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Me?” She gestured to herself in shock. “I’m just making an observation. Laziness is weakness, remember?”

He’d said those exact words to her in Braderhelm. And repeating them back gave her more satisfaction than she cared to admit.

Takeshi cursed under his breath, then shifted, putting one arm behind his back while continuing to drive downward with all his weight centered on his right hand, maintaining his fast speed.

She shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as she was.

Maybe the same wickedness lived in both of them.

Takeshi moved furiously, sweat glistening across his skin, and Khalani swallowed as the white fabric of his shirt rode up, revealing a hint of corded muscle.

“Alright. You’ve proved your point,” she interjected, heart racing for no reason. “Please stop before you pass out and become useless to me.”

Takeshi released a dark chuckle and lifted off his hands, casually leaning back against the wall. “That was just a warm-up. I’ll start again in a bit.”

“That was a warm-up?” she repeated slowly. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re crazy?”

“Sure. But they usually liked it.”

Khalani swallowed, becoming acutely aware of how physically close they were.

The cell was so small that his legs were centimeters from hers.

The temperature in the room kept rising, and she didn’t know if it was coming from his body heat or the anxiety ratcheting up inside her.

She had nowhere to escape. Nowhere to hide.

“You look flustered.” He tilted his head.

“Just counting down the days until we’re not locked in a cell together,” she replied, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall.

“You didn’t seem to mind being close to me in the club,” he remarked.

“I thought we were both trying to forget that night.”

“And how’s that worked out for you?” The glint in Takeshi’s eyes and the velvet thickness of his voice made her pulse race.

She was immediately brought back to that moment where the music wove through them like living art. Their inhibitions vanquished into thin air and for a few blissful minutes, she’d felt unshackled to the world around her.

Until it was all snatched away.

“Ask me next week and I’m sure I won’t even remember.”

If she repeated it enough, it might actually come true.

Takeshi’s expression, on the other hand, didn’t shift, almost like he expected nothing less.

“What about you?” she asked in a low voice, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

“Did I forget?” A bitter chuckle escaped him. “Unfortunately, no. I don’t think there’s any world where I could ever forget you. No matter what. Not even if I tried. And believe me, I have.”

The words hung in the air like a forbidden lullaby.

Despite the endless resentment, something unspoken persisted.

Maybe it was the seconds between each breath. Or the way their eyes found each other in the unintentional moments.

But that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. It didn’t mean hearts had a right to feel without your permission.

“And I’m sure that must be terrible.” Her voice went flat, trying to batter down those twisted emotions.

“It has its moments.” The corner of his lips twitched in a secret joke—one she wasn’t privy to. “But you can’t expect me to believe the whole night was unbearable for you.”

“I may have had fun dancing.” Khalani glanced away, not wanting to admit that before everything fell apart, it was one of the best nights of her life.

“I know. I would’ve kept watching but then that asshole came up and grabbed you.” Takeshi’s voice was calm, but she noticed the muscles in his forearms tightening, like the damage he inflicted wasn’t nearly strong enough.

“Yeah, well, you were only a marginally better dance partner,” she lied.

“Is that why you grinded against me like it was your last night alive?”

“A momentary lapse in judgment,” she countered.

“It’s not the first time you enjoyed being in my arms.”

“Turns out I specialize in poor decision making.”

Khalani was unable to contain the grin forming. Takeshi’s lip quirked up too. And for the first time since they’d been captured, she was able to breathe a little easier as they simply stared at each other in companiable silence.

She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Have you ever thought about what your life would’ve been like if you hadn’t become a guard?”

Takeshi silently stared past her, lost in thought as the tiny bulb of light flickered over his silky hair.

She felt the urge to tuck one piece back so she could see his granite eyes better, but Khalani held her wrists close, retreating into herself before she did something senseless.

“When I was little,” Takeshi’s hypnotic voice drew her attention, “my mother would bring home pallets of color and small brushes in Apollo. The first time, she laid out sheets of paper on the ground, and we dipped our hands in the paint. She hung up a dozen images of our hands overlapping, always saying that I brought color to her world, and she wanted me to spread it.”

Takeshi’s small smile was melancholy, tinged with layers of moments he wanted to keep forever, and others Takeshi looked like he wanted to erase.

“She taught me how to paint and, over time, the whole house was covered with my drawings. But when my stepfather, Hector, moved us to Genesis, she put them in a box and never hung them.” He hesitated, the distance in his eyes increasing. “I used to draw in my room at night when I heard them fighting and would hide my pictures under the bed. After I found out he hit her and I enlisted to become a guard, I never picked up a brush again. But in another life, I think I would’ve simply enjoyed painting.”

The lines in her forehead deepened as Khalani stared at him.

She thought about what Takeshi must have been like as a child. Caring. Innocent. Wanting to see his mom smile.

Heart made for beauty.

Hands molded for destruction.

But Takeshi didn’t want pity. He didn’t see himself as a victim. He chose to attack each weakness until it became a strength.

And somewhere along the way, he’d lost the innocent kid who wanted to paint the black and white world in color.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Khalani leaned her head against the wall, looking her fill of him.

“What’s that?”

“When we get back to Hermes, I’ll ask Spade or Raziel to track us down some brushes and paint. It’s the least they can do after what we’ve gone through,” she spoke rapidly, her cheeks reddening as Takeshi’s black gaze bore into her.

The weight of his stare was too physical. Too penetrating. The tiny cell felt like it was shrinking, and she wanted to disappear into the white walls by the time Takeshi finally replied,

“And what is it that you want in return, Kanes?”

She pulled back at his unexpected question.

What did she want? She couldn’t even remember anymore.

“Just draw one picture for me,” Khalani said instinctively.

“Of what?”

“Anything.” She smiled, trying to return some air back to the room. “Wherever your heart takes you.”

“I thought I didn’t have a heart,” Takeshi half-joked but the faintest flicker of pain still lingered in his eyes.

“Takeshi, you know what I said—”

“It’s alright, Kanes. You were speaking your truth,” he interrupted. “Others who know me well would’ve said the same thing.”

His heavy gaze lifted and it felt like he was warning her that the sweet kid who once painted pictures for his mother was long gone. But Khalani knew Takeshi pushed people away when they veered too close.

He’d rather be the lonesome killer than be vulnerable.

And that’s what art did.

Spread your vulnerabilities out for the world to judge.

“Then you can paint me what it means to be heartless.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Do we have a deal?”

Takeshi didn’t answer. His burning stare made her believe that if the truth could release, the darkest and most beautiful poetry would spill past his lips.

But after a long moment, Takeshi nodded.

A smile formed on her face, and she leaned forward, extending her pinky.

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“You have to promise on your pinky.”

“My pinky…”

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Winnie taught me. Pinky promises are supposed to be unbreakable. If you don’t follow through, the world will end, or something like that, and I’ll haunt your dreams for eternity.”

Takeshi assessed her carefully. She thought he heard him grumble, “That already happens.”

“What?”

“Nothing, Kanes.” He leaned forward and intertwined his pinky with hers. “You have a deal.”

They shook their hands up and down, and their pinkies remained locked together, much longer than necessary.

Takeshi was the first to pull away, and they retreated to the opposite sides of the cell. Khalani rested her head on the crook of her elbow.

Before closing her eyes, her gaze pivoted to Takeshi, whose legs were spread out in front of him as he leaned back against the wall. He stared at the hallway, his hooded eyes and alluring face etched in shadows.

But her gaze drifted to his hands.

His fingers absently rubbed the pinky that had held hers.

***

The next few days passed in a chaotic whirlwind.

The guards continued to push their bodies to the breaking point in the tunnels, and Dr. Strauss’ demeanor grew more irritable as he chose prisoners to take to his secretive building each morning. And every single one of them wailed the entire way.

Yesterday, Khalani could’ve sworn she heard God-awful shrieks permeate through the walls of her cell.

Or maybe they escaped from her nightmares.

She couldn’t quite tell the difference anymore.

All she could focus on was counting down the days until their breakout and avoiding eye contact with Dr. Strauss at all costs.

Two days left.

That’s all they had.

When they were given short-lived reprieves from the mines to eat, Khalani and Takeshi ate with Elise and her cryptic, barely coherent father, because Jack didn’t want to draw too much attention to them.

Khalani’s eyes were heavy, and she fought to keep her head from drooping into the bowl as Elise rambled absently about the food she’d devour the second they made it back to Hermes.

If they ever made it back to Hermes.

A strong urge tugged at her soul to share their escape plans with Elise.

Elise was the first one in camp to help them without expecting anything in return, and there was something about her that Khalani instinctively trusted. But she ignored her instincts and obeyed Jack’s instructions to keep their plan secret.

Ryder strolled by, heading toward the fighting area. He cocked his head to Takeshi, staring at him intently. Takeshi narrowed his gaze, his disdain clear as he murmured to Khalani, “I’ll be right back.”

He rose to his full height and joined Ryder, who spoke to him in hushed whispers.

Khalani found herself staring at the black building, a bad habit she couldn’t shake, when a group of male prisoners walked close by.

Khalani didn’t recognize them.

Two of the prisoners kept their gazes forward, eyes bright with excitement as they moved toward the fight that was starting. The third man had a round stomach and shaggy brown hair that stuck out in every direction. His gaze flitted in her direction.

Something in his stare made Khalani instinctively reach inside her pocket for a knife that wasn’t there. The man licked his lips suggestively, and she prepared for the worst, but he broke away and eventually followed his friends toward the fight.

She shivered, but Elise didn’t notice, still chatting about food. “These bastards are definitely going to pay for making me go this long without cake.”

“I haven’t had cake since I was a kid,” Khalani admitted, trying to shake her mind from the unsettling encounter.

Elise whipped her head so fast, Khalani was surprised she didn’t break her neck.

“What?! How is that possible? Every kid has cake on their birthday.”

Khalani’s eyes traveled to the floor. In Apollo, sugar was a luxury only the rich could afford. And Apollo didn’t waste any delicacies on orphans.

The truth was, she’d grown accustomed to the disgusting food served in Braderhelm more than anything else in her life.

Elise noticed the quiet shift and placed a hand on Khalani’s shoulder. “If…when we get out of here, I’ll make sure you get some.”

Khalani managed a small smile. “I’d like that.”

Suddenly, Elise’s father’s voice grew louder. “Key. Ring. Save. Key. Ring. Save.” He twirled the silver ring around his finger, repeating the same strange words as he stared off into the distance.

“Elise, why does your father keep saying that?”

Elise’s mouth twisted as she stared at her father. Her eyes grew forlorn. Like she was barely holding it together.

“My mom died a few years ago. Shortly after, my dad had a stroke. Ever since then, that’s the only phrase he utters. I don’t know why he’s so obsessed with the ring. It’s not even their wedding ring. It has some weird inscription on the bottom, but it’s not from any jeweler I know of in Hermes.”

“Really?” She frowned. “What does it say?”

“Hey, Dad, can I see your ring real quick?”

His eyes widened in panic. “Key. Ring. Save. Key. Ring. Save.”

“Yes.” Elise nodded reassuringly. “I’ll keep the ring safe. Can I hold it just for a moment?”

Her dad hesitated, like he’d rather run away than let anyone have it, but he glanced at Elise and his eyes softened, only now recognizing that it was his daughter. His hand shook as he pried the ring off his finger and gently placed it in his daughter’s palm.

Elise smiled warmly at him and showed Khalani the ring.

The silver stone on top was like nothing she’d ever seen. It was thin, rectangular, and had a metal sheen to it.

“The inscription is here.” Elise pointed to the underside of the ring, holding it up for Khalani to get a closer look.

She read the delicate cursive writing, and Khalani’s lungs ceased breathing as two words shone back at her.

…

Prometheus Inc.