Chapter 7
Abigail waited to hear the decision of the Council, as nervous as she’d ever been in her entire life. She’d tried exercising to take her mind from worrying, but it hadn’t helped, and she found herself pacing in the center of her room once more.
It felt like it had taken forever but it hadn’t been that long. Either it would be a quick vote, or they would take a long time deliberating, and she didn’t know which one worked better in her favor. Seconds dragged by at a snail’s pace, and Abigail felt sick, she was so scared.
She kept her body moving, focusing on breathing and relaxing. Should she try to escape? That might be her best option at this point, and the more time that passed, the better that option seemed. Her hearing nothing probably meant things had gone poorly, and they were trying to decide the best way to kill her. The most humane.
At least, that’s how she imagined it.
The thick walls held no other openings leading into and out of her room other than the door. The bars on the windows offered gaps too small to slip through, but maybe she could jar one loose and slip out.
Or, maybe, she could make a run for it as soon as the door opened. She could push past the guards and try to escape down the hall before they could put a bullet in her back.
None of those options, however, made her feel any better. Neither of them would work. Abigail had left it too late to try and escape now. If that had been her plan, she should have done it months ago.
Now, she was stuck with whatever fate the Council handed down. Haatim had assured her it would go in her favor and that they had all the votes they needed to find her innocent of these crimes, but she still couldn’t help but imagine he might be wrong.
If this were to be her end, then she wouldn’t beg or plead. Arthur had taught her to remain strong and independent and to face death bravely. Sure, she hadn’t planned to go out, but at the very least, she could take control of the situation and go out on her terms.
After what felt like an eternity, the door opened. Four men stood just outside the room.
Two of them, the mercenaries posted as guards, and the other two, Hunters she’d known for years. Colton Depardieu and Anong Sao.
The pleased expression on Colton’s face told her what decision they’d passed down. They hadn’t come to set her free.
Anong, a small woman and pretty and nimble, came from Southeast Asian descent. Colton, a burly and ugly man, had blonde hair and blue eyes. He loved attention and behaved like a complete jerk in his treatment of women. That formed part of why she’d never gotten along with him. The other reason came down to him just being an asshole.
They all stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind them.
Colton looked thrilled to be here now that he would get to murder her. He’d always hated Abigail, and Arthur too. An unrepentant bully, he didn’t like that Arthur always proved quick to put bullies in their place. Anong, carrying a pistol and frowning, looked worried and a little disconcerted by the situation.
“It’s time, then?” Abigail tried to sound brave. Her voice came out a lot weaker than she would have liked, and her pretense felt all too obvious.
“Yes,” Anong said. “Abigail, I am so sorry about all of this. I know you—”
“Oh, shut up,” Colton said. “It’s long past time we did this. She’s been a problem since the Council first rescued her, and if not for Arthur, I would’ve put a bullet in her a long time ago.”
“She’s one of us.” Anong shook her head. “She deserves our respect.”
“She’ll never be one of us,” Colton said. “She’s one of them: a cultist. They should have killed her when she was a little girl. But, at least we get to rectify that mistake now.”
Abigail’s muscles tensed as he spoke. Her hands clenched, and she forced them to relax. Her nails dug into her flesh.
“Wait!” someone shouted from down the hall. Footsteps approached. The four turned and aimed their rifles back at the door.
A second later, Dominick appeared. He skidded to a halt, holding up his hands, and they all lowered their guns.
“Don’t do this,” he said, speaking to Anong and Colton. “Let’s think this through.”
“We’re past thinking,” Colton said. “The Council ruled that she’s to be executed for her crimes, and I, for one, am thankful that I get to be the one who does it.”
Dominick pulled out his gun and aimed it at Colton. “I’m warning you. I won’t let you do this.”
The two guards and Anong raised their guns as well, aiming them at Dominick. A tense moment passed.
“You aren’t thinking straight,” Colton said. Casually, he walked toward Dominick. “You don’t want us to have to kill you, too, right?”
“Dominick, it’s okay,” Abigail said. “Stay out of it.”
Dominick glanced at her but didn’t lower the gun. “I’m warning you to stop.”
“Or what?” Colton asked. “You’ll shoot one of your own?”
“You seem ready to.”
“Abigail isn’t one of ours.” Colton stepped closer, hands up, and Dominick jerked back. His hands shook. “She never will be, and you’d do well to remember that.”
Then Colton reached out and grabbed Dominick’s gun, yanking it from his grasp. Dominick stood there, hands still shaking.
“See? That wasn’t too bad,” Colton said. Then he flipped the gun over and pistol-whipped Dominick on the face, knocking him to the ground. He hit hard, dazed.
“Hey!” Anong shouted.
“Don’t worry,” Colton said. “He’ll be fine.”
“You didn’t have to hit him so hard.”
“He’s just getting what’s coming to him. Like Abigail, and Arthur before her. You know, I’m glad Arthur is dead. Such a pretentious jackass all the time, always thinking he was better than the rest of us.”
Abigail felt in a daze, barely breathing. Her muscles clenched tighter, and she could only see red as rage washed over her. Colton’s words infuriated her, but also so much more than that.
“Everyone thought he was great, but I knew better. I knew he was just an uppity—”
Abigail moved before she realized it, charging forward at Anong, who spun with a shout, raising her pistol. However, Abigail was already on her. She pushed the barrel away, and the shots went wide over her shoulder. Then Abigail stepped in and punched Anong in the chest, knocking her back and to the ground.
Abigail kept moving while the other three tried to react. The two guards with assault rifles raised to fire at her. She dove to the side, sprinting in an arc toward one of them. The other fired, but she slipped past his partner and used him as a body shield. The bullets thudded into his chest, rocking him as Abigail held him up.
Two bullets went through his unarmored body and out the other side, but they didn’t have enough force to pierce Abigail’s skin. They hit and bounced off, thudding to the floor.
The other man stopped firing and let out a gasp, realizing he’d shot his friend. Abigail took the opportunity to throw the man at him. She threw a lot harder than she expected, and the body collided with the other guard, knocking him to the floor.
Abigail charged in after, pushing the guns away and kicking the unhurt guard in the face repeatedly.
Colton had spun back to the fight and now aimed at Abigail, who ducked and dove just as he pulled the trigger. Bullets flew close to her body. She closed the distance to him, dodging and weaving to narrowly avoid the shots, and then tackled him.
Though a big and strong man, she thought she might manage to wrestle him to the ground if she got hold of his legs. It surprised her at how easy it proved to lift him from the ground. Abigail slammed him into the wall hard, and the drywall collapsed under his weight.
Colton groaned, barely conscious, and Abigail let him sink to the floor. She raised her foot to stomp him in the face, and then noticed Dominick standing a few meters away.
A deep gash ran down the side of his face, and he’d picked up his gun, which he aimed at her. However, his hands continued to shake, and he wore a horrified expression.
“What … what the hell?” he muttered.
Abigail took a menacing step toward him, and then realized what she was doing. Instead, she took a deep and calming breath and forced her heart rate to slow.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just sort of lost it there—”
“Stay back.” Dominick took a step backward, toward the hall. His hands, if anything, shook even worse now.
“Dominick, it’s okay. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He didn’t seem convinced and took another step into the hallway.
Loud footsteps approached and, suddenly, Haatim and Frieda rounded the corner to the room. Both of them glanced inside. Haatim took a sharp intake of breath.
At first, Abigail put it down to a response to the four people on the ground, one of whom lay dead.
And then she realized that his gaze had fixed on her.
Frieda stepped into the room, a concerned look on her face. She pushed Dominick’s gun down, and he looked at her with an expression of fear.
“It’s okay,” she said, gently taking the gun from him.
“What …?” Clearly, he didn’t know how to finish the question.
“What?” Abigail asked. “What is it? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
None of them answered. Into the silence, an alarm blared overhead.
“Come on,” Frieda said, gesturing for Abigail to come with her. She walked at speed down the hall. Abigail followed, and Haatim and Dominick moved back, getting out of her way. She cast them each a glance, but then simply went after Frieda.
“Where are we going?”
“Your identities won’t work,” Frieda said. “But you’ll find two new ones in the glove box that should hold you over for a while. Stay out of sight and don’t make yourself conspicuous.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ll need to lay low for at least a few months, but eventually, they’ll stop searching for you. In the trunk, you’ll find a suitcase with enough cash to last you a few years. Euros.”
“Frieda, what are you talking about?” Abigail asked. They stood near a side exit. “They came to execute me.”
“I know.” Frieda pulled out a pair of keys and handed them to Abigail, and then pushed open the door. Outside, snow met them in the pitch black, and the moon lay hidden behind the clouds. Wind whistled around them, bitingly cold. “Remember this address.”
Then Frieda rattled off a location. Abigail committed it to memory. “Where is it?”
“Ohio,” Frieda said. “You’ll need to find out for yourself. Now go.”
Then Frieda turned and headed back into the building. Abigail stood in the doorway, thoroughly disoriented and confused by everything that had gone on.
Frieda disappeared around the corner, leaving Abigail alone with only the sound of the alarms around her.
She hesitated, and then headed out into the snow. It took her a few minutes to find Frieda’s car, and only moments after that, she drove toward town and away from the hotel.
“What the hell just happened?” Shocked, Dominick stared at the carnage of the room where they’d held Abigail. Haatim stood beside him.
The destroyed room had bullet holes littering the walls, broken furniture, and a man lay dead. Anong had found her feet, but still felt dazed and out of breath. Colton remained unconscious, as did the other guard.
Abigail had done this …
Dominick remembered the way she’d looked when she slammed Colton into the wall. The feral look on her face; eyes red. Not like bloodshot red, but like demonic and angry red.
“I wish I knew,” Haatim said. On the floor, Colton groaned, returning to consciousness.
A few moments later, Frieda reappeared. Despite everything that had just happened, she appeared calm and collected. She stood next to them for a second, staring at the room around them.
“Arrest me,” she said, turning to Dominick.
“What?”
“Arrest me. Handcuff me and bring me before the Council.”
“Why?”
“I just freed Abigail,” she said.
“You did what?”
Frieda eyed him for a long second. “She’s gone. I understand your duty now, so I won’t put up any fight. Now, arrest me.”
Dominick rubbed his eyes, trying to understand. “All right,” he said. “Frieda, you’re under arrest. Let’s go.”
