Page 41 of Savage Protection (Kings of Ruin #1)
Max
The bastard told me they were keeping her in the windowless building, but all these buildings on base look the same—identical cinder block rectangles.
It’s dark, yet an unnatural number of streetlights illuminate the walkway.
Even though it's late, many people are hustling as if there's an emergency.
From what Hailey has described about the work ethic expected here, this may be business as usual.
I adjust the collar of my shirt, which feels as constricting as a corset.
The fabric is stiff, and I feel like a sore thumb with this rusty stain on my white uniform.
Every plain-clothed cult member’s eyes flick to my chest, then they quickly turn away.
The military members, or whatever their status is, glare openly.
As I pass them, I grip my gun tighter and avoid eye contact.
Finding Boone’s assault rifle in the car initially made me feel safer, knowing I could carry it without question.
But there are so many armed men here. I wouldn’t last long if I used it.
I continue walking through eerie silence.
No one talks, and everyone wears the same blank, exhausted expression.
This walk makes me understand Hailey: her constant second-guessing, her fear of opening up.
The one positive of this place is its lack of children.
Hailey mentioned special schools for them, but at least this base is adult-only. I couldn't imagine children here.
I reach a point where the streetlights end but the sidewalk continues, so I keep going. It makes sense to house prisoners in a less inviting area. The atmosphere shifts immediately, and only guards are around, pacing or standing by some buildings.
One guard escorts a man in an orange jumpsuit. He’s a couple of inches shorter than me, but I outweigh him by a hundred pounds. His cheeks look like hollow, dark holes with how emaciated he’s become. His left eye socket seems smashed, and he walks with a limp.
I look away when his guard notices my stare. Given how they treat people here, I wonder how this place still stands. Hailey once said they can get away with anything. I didn’t believe it, but she mentioned her father pays off any politician or FBI official taking interest in them.
I quicken my pace, noticing a large, dark building by the perimeter.
Before I determine if it’s my destination, a man in an expensive suit, escorted by four guards, emerges.
The familial resemblance to Hailey is immediate.
My pulse quickens as I realize who he is and notice his eyes focus on my shirt .
"You there!" he shouts, making me almost jump.
I stop and turn, wondering if I'll have to use my gun and how much damage I can inflict before they kill me.
"What happened to your shirt?" he asks.
"Nosebleed, sir."
Technically true—Boone's nose bled on it.
"Well, find a fresh shirt, and control that bleeding. It’s disgraceful for someone of your rank to suffer nosebleeds."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
Playing my part, I'm dumbfounded that nosebleeds are frowned upon here.
He takes a few steps, then stares again. I sense some recognition but can't be sure if he places me. It's very likely he figured out who Hailey stayed with and found pictures of me online.
I tighten my grip on the gun. He knows who I am.
"Are you starting a shift in there?" He gestures to the building behind him.
I exhale, relieved. Maybe I’m paranoid, or maybe my depression beard saved my ass.
"Yes, sir."
He smirks. "I’m sure you’ve been told my daughter is in there. No need to go easy on her for my sake. She deserves what’s coming."
I grit my teeth, nodding slightly, wanting nothing more than to cave his face in with my fists.
Once they're gone, I take a moment to catch my breath before heading inside .
Despair hits as I enter. A siren blares over a muffled scream—it’s a man's scream, otherwise I'd have busted down that door already in case it was Hailey.
I frown at the steel doors protecting each cell. No windows show who or what's inside, vacant or not, alive or dead.
I continue past, giving myself time to think when a man almost bumps into me in the hallway.
"Oh. You new? Sullivan." He extends his hand, and I shake it. He must not care that I'm covered in blood.
"Boone," I say, introducing myself with the stolen name tag.
Sullivan furrows his brow, glancing at my tag. "Any relation to Anthony?" I assume he means the man dead or unconscious in my trunk.
"Nope. Common last name, I guess."
He shrugs, satisfied with my lie. My eyes flick past the door he came from to a set of screens. I see her immediately. Arms wrapped around herself, shivering, covered in bruises.
The guard laughs. "We have Burke's kid. Makes the job more fun."
Fun?
I clench my fists, drawing blood, and follow him to the security booth. Sullivan seems unaware of my seething rage and his impending danger.
"Hmm, she fell asleep again." He presses a red button, and a strobe light fills Hailey’s cell, echoed by a siren I can hear down the hall. She clutches her ears, staring at the camera, helpless.
Sullivan laughs, turning it off .
They haven't let her sleep? Those bastards. My jaw clenches so tightly I nearly chip a tooth, hot tears of anger forming. I glance away, trying to get a grip on myself.
"Boone?" He gets my attention.
“Yeah? Sorry, allergies are a bitch this year.” I swat a tear from my cheek.
"Allergies?" He asks accusingly, eyeing my shoulder, the blood.
"She's cute, isn't she?" I nod to the screen, though it nearly kills me to say but I need this guy’s attention off of me.
"She is." Sullivan shifts, a disgusting smile plastered on his face. "And now that someone’s covering the screens..." He trails off, checking his watch.
I try to figure out what he means by that as his footsteps retreat, and I see him enter her cell.
There's no audio, but I don't like his demeanor. He makes her uncomfortable. I grip my gun, ready to intervene if he tries anything but I need to play this smart–not impulsive. I’m so outnumbered I’m going to have to wait for the perfect opportunity.
He takes her from the cell and down the hallway.
I follow, keeping far back so he doesn't spot me, ready to do anything to get her out of there.