Unremarkable (Anything But) (16 page)

“
Fight, Honor. Fight or be killed,” August said from somewhere in the room.

I should die. I should die and then I can’t be used anymore.
Even as her eyelids slid shut and the pressure around her throat became excruciating, Honor knew she wouldn’t. She wasn’t programmed that way. Maybe she should start. It would be so easy. Her arms slackened, her head limp above the strong fingers digging into her flesh.

“
Fight back,” August hissed. “Fight back or your mother and sister are dead.
Fight back
.” 

Her eyes snapped open and drilled into the empty ones staring back at her. “I’m sorry,” she said to an unrecognizable creature.

It didn’t really matter if she was sorry or not; the person she was apologizing to wasn’t human anymore.
He’s not human.
Her hands gripped his and pulled, her teeth gritting as she struggled.
It’s not Scott.
Her knee slammed into his groin, the heel of her foot smashing onto the top of his.
Scott is dead.
His grip loosened as a small grunt left him. That was the only sound he made. He was like a robot, just as Honor thought of most UDKs. She sucked in a gasping breath when her throat was able to expand once again, but immediately she was ducking as a fist swung at her face.

“
Kill or be killed, Honor. Those are your choices.” August sounded so calm, as though he was observing a television show and not reality—unattached and indifferent.

Jaw clenched, she hopped back as his left and right clenched hands came at her, one after the other. She blocked a jab to her stomach and another to her neck, falling back against the table, the metal cutting into the backs of her thighs, her back hitting the top of it as her knees involuntarily bent. Scott lunged for her and Honor kicked her leg out, tripping him. He fell, his forehead hitting the edge of the table as he went down. He shook his head, dazed, blood trailing down his forehead in a thin line, the cut beneath it closing as she watched. Renewed determination took over his features as he stood.

“Stop playing around and finish it.”

“
I’m not killing him,” she snapped, jerking back as another fist came at her, clipping her jaw. It throbbed once, twice, and then faded.

“
Why are you doing this? You don’t have to do this. Stop.
Please
.” Her words didn’t sink in; bouncing off whatever unfeeling shield had been placed over Scott’s emotions.

When the door clicked shut and Honor realized August had deserted them—not that he’d been offering much support anyway, unless encouraging words of committing murder counted—dread tidal-waved over her and wouldn’t ease away. She wanted to run to the door and break free, but she knew it would be locked. He’d made it impossible for both of them to survive; it was either kill or be killed. Hatred slithered through her veins, icing her insides with it.

He would die. August would die and she would be the one to do it. She couldn’t even feel remorse or hesitation about it. It had to be done.

“
Kill him, Honor,” his voice, sounding like gravel, called from an intercom.

Her jaw clenched. “
No
.”

“
You’ll change your mind eventually,” was the confident response.

The words sounded ominous, but she couldn’t dwell on them for too long as Scott was coming for her again, the syringe and needle used to eradicate all the good in him now clenched tightly within his fist. She couldn’t kill him, but she wouldn’t hand herself over to be slaughtered either. Panic was beginning to cloud her judgment and it showed when the palm of her hand connected with his cheek, the sound sharp as it rang through the room.

His eyes flashed as his nostrils flared and an inhuman growl came from Scott’s mouth. She wanted to weep—not out of fear, but out of sorrow at what she was looking at. His hand knotted in her hair and yanked her head back, incontrollable rage stamped into a face that was abnormally altered.

The syringe came at her face and her elbow shot up, connecting hard with his nose. A crunching sound ensued and strangely, sorrowfully, she thought of Ryder. Renewed energy sparked in her, her body taut with fortitude. She dropped to her knees, strands of hair tearing from her scalp, her eyes stinging at the sharp pain, and punched Scott in the groin again, wincing at his shout of outrage and agony even as satisfaction unfurled inside Honor. If she could tire him out, maybe he would eventually pass out. It would be a small reprieve and probably wouldn’t last long, but it was all she had to look forward to.

Hours spent ducking and weaving and going on the offensive had Honor barely able to move. Scott wasn’t worn down, not even slightly. Something was telling her to give up. It would be logical. She was trapped, huddled under a sink with cabinets on either side of her. He was toying with her, watching her with his creepy lifeless eyes. True, she didn’t need to eat or drink or sleep as much as she used to, but all of that had caught up with her, and her eyelids drooped, even with death staring at her, sitting with his back against the table, patiently waiting her out.

August had been silent for a long time. Maybe even he had given up on her. Honor had the thought at the same time the slot in the door slid open. Scott lifted his head, but didn’t look away from her. A blade, large and caked in red, clattered to the floor. Two fingers, small and pale and bloody, fell through the opening immediately after that.

Disbelief widened her eyes and then the horror set in. Everything inside her tightened, pulsed with grief, and then erupted. One word ricocheted through her head, pounding in beat with her heart:
Scarlet Scarlet Scarlet
.

Honor screamed. Honor screamed and she couldn’t stop.

The sounds of their screams
haunted him. He heard them during the night; he heard them in his nightmares. Their screams
were
his nightmares.

Going back to the facility—it had been a horrible mistake. The destruction of humanity by August’s hand had progressed to a dismal degree. It needed to be stopped. Ryder had thought he could wait until he had more control, a higher rank within the organization, but he couldn’t. Time was not his friend and it was close to being his enemy. All of them—there would be nothing left of them soon if August continued to reign. How had he been blind for so long? Why hadn’t he seen it earlier? Because he’d wanted to believe in someone, he’d needed a figure to look up to, a person to take his father’s place. His father had been a hard ass, but as far as he knew, he’d been a decent man, but the same could not be said for August.

No one ever said the actual words, but there were whispers, shifted gazes, on what exactly the underground parts of facilities were being used for. And he could hear them through the vents; crying, pleading, moaning. Who were they and what had been done to them? What was
still
being done to them?

Ryder did his UD rounds, careful to avoid making eye contact as he made sure each individual was within their cell and alive as they transitioned through the turning. One thought was paramount in his mind: How had Superior August, a single being, gotten to be so powerful? It was true he was charismatic and appeared, to someone who didn’t know his true nature, to be empathetic. But to have so many people,
thousands
of people, unquestioningly follow him—it was incomprehensible. Had he threatened and bribed his way to the top? Ryder believed it. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t believe about his previous mentor.

Something was happening and he wasn’t sure what it was, but it was huge. The shield of order had a crack in it. The air was thick with apprehension. Agents were jumpy, UDs were more belligerent. Everyone was waiting for something, building up to something. He left the cool interior of the prison and strode up the stone steps to the upper level, nodding a greeting to officials that actually glanced his way.

He was driven by a single thought: Get Honor out. That was it. That was all he was capable of focusing on. When he tried to strive for normalcy, he lost. She’d been out of his line of vision for half a day and it was too long. He didn’t know where she was, what was happening to her, and it was driving him
crazy
. He had to find her. Of course, once he did, he had to act like she was nothing to him. It was an atrocity to allow such a falsehood, but he had to do it—for her safety no one could know what she was to him. He just wanted to see her, to know she was okay, and then he would be okay.  

“
Officer Delagrave.”

He paused near the opening of a hallway he intended to go down. “Yes?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the bulky redhead he knew did more than just pump iron to get his veiny, bulging muscles. There were supposed to be tests done on that sort of thing, but there were ways around them. There were always ways around them.

“This hallway has been closed until further notice. There’s a suspicious smell at the other end,” Agent Leonard said as he clasped his hands together before him and widened his stance.

Ryder stared down the white corridor, wondering what the door at the end led to. “Really? I don’t smell anything.”

Thin lips flashed in a semblance of a smile as the agent stood taller, one hand hovering threateningly over the gun residing on a narrow hip. “Lucky for you.” He nodded his head. “I think officers are needed in the gymnasium. Something about an assembly for the new recruits. Be an upstanding officer and go show your support.”

The dismissal was obvious and grated on Ryder. There was a reason Leonard didn’t want him to go down the hallway and that only made him want to go down it all the more.

“You’re going to try to nonverbally intimidate me? Is that it? Seems kind of childish.” He closed the distance between them, looking down at the older man. “And what are you going to do? Shoot me? August’s favorite officer? You would really do that?” he asked mockingly, hating that he had to use August as a barrier against the other UDKs and unremorseful at the same time. He did what he had to do—always. 

His hand dropped to his side and he leaned away. “No. Of course not. I was just resting my hand.”

Ryder snorted. “Resting your hand on the hilt of your gun? Good spot for it. Completely nonlethal.”

Crimson stole over the agent’s cheeks. “Aren’t you supposed to be at another facility anyway? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here because August wanted me to be. What’s your reason? Run out of drugs at the other place?”

The man’s face scrunched up. “Listen—”

The scream was faint, but filled with terror, and somehow—Ryder didn’t know how—he knew it was Honor. Fear crashed through him, froze his breaths, and stuttered his heartbeat. His eyes collided with the higher ranking officer’s and then he took off, ignoring the shouts of the other man.

He could hear him behind him, racing to catch up, but his own footsteps were louder, his inhalations and heartbeats a cacophony of despair. Every fiber of his being was shouting at the injustice of that sound, of what it implied. Honor was in danger. He had to save her.
He had to save her.

He felt her; beyond the closed door at the end of the hallway. The air was alive with her energy. He reached for the lock on the door just as hands rammed down hard on his shoulders and tried to pull him away.
Again
there was an obstacle between them. Rage pulsated through him, erased logic, and he reacted.
Have to save her, have to save her, have to save her.

He clenched his fists and spun around, pounding them into the man’s face without hesitation or regret. Again and again, until his face was a bloody mess and he collapsed to the floor. Chest heaving with each lungful of air, he rushed for the locked door. He had to hurry; there wouldn’t be much time before others showed up.

“Honor!” he shouted. “Hang on, Honor!”

Ryder noticed a red smear on the door, but it didn’t register in his brain what it was until the door was open and he saw it on the floor; drips and small pools of it. His eyes followed the trail and halted on her kneeling form. A male body was unmoving beside her. Her hands were clasped together against her forehead, as though she prayed. Whimpers came from her, broken and faint as convulsions attacked her body in an unrelenting mass of misery. At first he thought the blood was hers, but then he noticed the head—the head wasn’t fully connected to the neck.

He sucked in a raspy breath, able to piece together what had happened, but not why it had happened. She looked up, just a flicker of eyes his way, unseeing, her gaze back to the dead boy immediately. It was enough to see the devastation in her eyes, the cheeks stained with tears, and the pain. Her features were pulled down with it. His feet moved, but it wasn’t fast enough.

He was moving in slow motion; toward the girl he cherished above all others. He had to get to her. She was broken and he was broken because of it. Protect her—he only wanted to protect her.

“Honor?” he said softly as he crouched down next to her, lightly placing his palm on the crown of her head. He didn’t want to scare her, but the need to touch her was too powerful to deny. He kept his attention on the blond-haired boy who looked vaguely familiar, too young to no longer live. His expression was peaceful, as though he slept a dreamless sleep. Ryder supposed he did.

“
I…killed…him,” she moaned, quietly weeping.

“
You had no choice.” Even as he said it, he knew it was true. There was no other way she would have taken another life.

Tragedy-hued orbs lifted and stared. “You always have a choice, Ryder. This time, I chose me.” Her lips trembled and she blinked, dislodging a cascade of tears. 

“I don’t believe that. You never choose you.” He brushed hair from her eyes. “What happened?”

“
He…my blood…Scarlet—” she broke off, inhaling sharply, her gaze going to something near the door.

“
Your sister? What about her?” Ryder followed her eyes and flinched. He looked down at her hands, relieved to find all the fingers on each hand intact. “That—” Her sobs made any attempt at words obsolete. When Honor’s weeping tapered down enough to be heard, he said, “Come on; let’s get you out of here.”

He helped her from the room, pulling her away when she paused. Gasps of mourning left her, distorted by the cries she couldn’t keep inside. The unmistakable anguish Honor felt pulled him to her and he wrapped his arms around her in the hallway, her cheek resting on his pounding heart.

Nothing mattered.

August could, and would, show up. Agents were probably swarming them at that very moment. He would be seen as a traitor, maybe even kept locked up and stripped of his rank.

None of it mattered.

He closed his eyes, breathing her in, holding her close, doing the only thing he could. He comforted her. He didn’t need to know what had happened, not yet; he only needed to know she was hurt and he had to sooth that somehow. The rest of it—they’d figure it out together once she calmed down.

“I’m impressed. I didn’t know if you had it in you, Honor.”

She stiffened against him and Ryder looked up, protectively tightening his hold on her slight form. “Get away from us.”

“That is not how you talk to your superior, as you know.”

“
I don’t
care
. What happened in there?” he demanded.

August’s icy eyes narrowed on him. “None of your concern, son. You can go now.”

A heavy weight landed on his back and a familiar voice said, “The superior told you to leave. You’re being insubordinate.” Breath heated the back of his neck and Ryder clamped his teeth together to hold in a shudder. “You know where the ones that can’t follow orders go and I’ll be happy to take you there.”

“
I
don’t
know, actually. Maybe you should tell me. And your voice…it sounds a little nasal.” Ryder lifted a single eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder at Agent Leonard’s swollen face. “I wonder why.”

“
Go, Leonard.”

“
Sir—”

The superior straightened. “
Go
.” When the agent had disappeared around the corner, he turned his attention to Ryder. “Now. Where were we? Oh yes,
you
were about to leave. Don’t make me tell you again, son.”

“
Don’t call me that,” he snarled, his grip unconsciously constricting even more around Honor.

“
Don’t call you that?” He cocked his head. “After all this time, all these years I’ve done so,
now
you tell me to stop? I’m offended, Ryder, and severely disappointed. You know, even when you know you're going to be betrayed, seeing it in action still affects you in ways you can't prepare for.”

“
Let me go,” Honor whispered.

Before he could drop his hold on her, Ryder was shoved away with enough force to hit the wall behind him. He stared at her in disbelief. Nothing with her features changed and yet everything was different about the girl glaring at Superior August.

Shoulders hunched into her frame, head lowered, yet eyes locked on August’s, the pretty face was distorted into something only great loss, the kind you couldn’t heal from, could do. He knew. He’d been there, for a long time, until he met her. Fear for her clenched his chest and wouldn’t let go.

“
Honor—”

A palm cut through the air and stopped inches from his face, yet her head remained directed toward August as she said in a brittle voice, “I want to see my mom…and my sister…
now
.”

He laughed. He tipped his silvery head back and he laughed in her face. Ryder moved for him, but she was already there, diminutive in size, but all-consuming in her grief.

“I did what you wanted! Now show them to me!”

“
I can’t.” He looked at her, the true evil in him seeping out into his smile.

“
I did…what you…wanted,” she choked out, the quivering in her form escalating as she fell back a step. “You said—”