Page 22
Chapter 22
EZEKIEL
T he dock groans with the weight of the armed man pacing up and down the weathered timber above me. Waves surge against my body, the salt burning my eyes as I hide among the rocks underneath the dock like the ghost I am.
I study the guard, his head low, a battle axe held uncaringly at his side, as I peek through the gaps in the wood. You’d think he’d have a gun or something more practical, but apparently, they like to do things the old-fashioned way around here. It smells like dead fish, rotten wood, and whale shit under this dock, and I don't know how, but the guard seems pretty unbothered by it.
I can’t relate.
This is where all of the depraved shit happens. The heart of what makes The Royal operational. Small wooden boats that I assume are used to ferry victims to and from the vessels are moored to each side of the dock, creaking and bumping into each other with the movement of the tides. The dock stretches out to sea, a far enough distance so that the vessels steer clear of the rocks beneath the water.
The guard turns, his boots dragging sluggishly above me as he walks along the gangway to the boathouse at the end of the dock. I choose this moment to swim out from underneath it, biting down on the pocket knife as my hands grip the rock's slippery surface. I pull myself up from the ocean and onto the rocky waterfront, thankful for the raucous waves disguising any noise as my feet purchase on the shore. Careful not to slip, I steady myself, then scan the area to see if anyone else is lurking around before I creep down the dock toward the boathouse.
Time feels unmoving. Each critical second lingers for what feels like an eternity as fear sinks its serrated teeth into my bones, stabbing into my heart the longer that I’m out here.
They have her.
Airlie is up there in that cathedral, and it's all my fucking fault.
I should have done more, anything to keep that oxygen thief from taking her, and now, she’s in their hands, not mine. I don’t know where they’re keeping her, but I will tear this shithole apart brick by fucking brick until I find her.
‘Murder without love is just murder, Ezekiel. But in the name of the one you love, death is something else entirely.’
Titan’s words fill my mind as I round the corner of the cramped, weathered shack, waiting for the perfect moment to take out the guard. I wasn’t sure what Titan meant by his words at the time. Growing up alone with no family, the idea of love was foreign to me. Since meeting my siren, I’ve imagined life in ways I never thought were even possible for a man like me, and now, love has become my driving force.
My reaso n.
Before her, I was inconsequential in every sense of the word. In my career and in life. And now that I’ve found Airlie, even though it’s obvious that I don’t deserve her, I don’t want to imagine a life without her in it.
I will do anything, be anything for Airlie, and I won't stop until she's safe in my arms again. The gut-wrenching ache that sears through my heart from thoughts of what they could be doing to her is visceral. If they so much as scratch her perfect, delicate skin anymore than these assholes already have, I'll set every last one of them on fire.
My fingers blanch, my knuckles white as I tightly grip the knife's hilt. I crouch behind the tall figure. His back is turned, his eyes fixed on the sea, unsuspecting of the predator close behind him. I stand abruptly, my left hand reaching for the scruff of his hair, then I tilt his head back toward me. My face is inches from his as I slice the blade across his throat without a single sound slipping from his lips. Blood gushes from his neck, spilling over both our bodies, and I gently guide his now dead, slumping frame into the seat that overlooks the window. If anyone glances down from the cathedral, they won't notice that he's dead, not unless they can see the blood pooling on the floor surrounding his body from that distance.
I don’t know how many Royals there are here in Atlantara, but I suppose I’ll find out in about five minutes or less. I frisk the guard, searching his pockets for anything that could help me gain entry. I pull out a large set of rusted keys and pick up the axe he dropped to the floor in the attack.
Hurriedly, I exit the boathouse, sprinting back along the dock and out of sight of the windows that tower above. I hit the stone hard, my bare feet almost skidding against the slippery surface as I race up the staircase carved into the rock formation that leads to the only door I’ve seen into the building.
Waves crash around me everywhere, and sea spray clings to my hair and skin as I reach the iron door. My ragged breaths are heavy, my shoulders tight with awareness as I pull the keys from my pocket and try every key there is before it finally unlocks with a click, and I slowly push the door open.
It's the smell that hits me first.
The familiar, acrid stench of rotten flesh and shit blends with the putrid, metallic scent of blood, old and new, burning all of my senses. It's all I can do not to vomit. My eyes start to water, blurring the corners of my vision as bile rises in the back of my throat, threatening to make an appearance. There must be another entrance that I’m not aware of because there is no way anyone would come down here.
I cover my mouth and nose with my free hand, the other still holding the axe, as I silently walk through the stone hallway that opens onto what looks like an old church foyer. The floor is made out of concrete, blood-stained and wet in places, and I notice garden hoses woven around rusted taps, fixed along the walls every few meters. There is only one reason for those hoses, and that thought makes me sick and terrified of what I might find here.
My eyes scan the dark space for signs of movement, and I stick close to the walls and as out of sight as possible. There are doors lined up like old hospital rooms, and I don’t need to look to know what's behind them. Tightening my grip on the axe handle, I raise it as if holding a baseball bat and quietly walk toward the first door on my left.
I reach out and twist the handle, but of course, it's locked. I risk everything by leaning my weapon against the stone wall and searching for the key that will likely fit. The door opens on the third try, and I pick up the axe and stand back, allowing enough space between me and whatever, whoever is on the other side.
I kick open the door and mentally prepare myself, but no amount of training could have ever prepared me for the horrific sight before me. Small, naked bodies are huddled in the corner of the tiny, dilapidated room. They cower, holding onto each other for dear life as I stand, unmoving in the doorway. My stomach twists with something unrecognizable, forcing me to lower my weapon.
“Hey, it's okay. You’re going to be okay. I'm going to get you out of here,” I whisper, taking a few steps into the room, but I immediately regret it when my eyes flick to the other corner. The rotten smell is much more pungent now, and it’s coming from the decomposing body lying on the concrete floor to my right.
Godfuckingdammit.
Biting my tongue, I hold my breath, lowering to my knees. I keep a safe distance from the victims because the last thing I want to do is scare them any more than they already are, and I can’t have them making a scene, or alerting anyone that I’m here. I hold up my free hand, surrendering to them, a gesture to let them know I’m not a threat.
“I'll help you,” I whisper again.
The woman, holding a child, peeks up through, long, unruly hair, hiding her face. Her eyes, almost swollen shut, blink slightly when her hair falls away, revealing her bruised features.
“H-help,” is all she says, and I bite back the emotions clogging my throat. Memories of my childhood flood my mind, but I push them aside.
This isn't about me.
Airlie, baby, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I can't leave them here like this.
“I am going to close the door. It will be unlocked. I will come back for you. I will come back for everyone. Nod, if you understand me.”
The woman nods, weak from starvation and who knows what else. I don’t know how long they’ve had to live beside a dead body, but they’re going to need to see a doctor.
I am way out of my depth here.
“Do you know how many guards there are?” I ask.
Any information would not go astray right now. She looks into my eyes, and I look away on instinct, trying to give her privacy. My stomach churns, mixing with anger and hatred at how anyone could let this happen.
They are people.
“M-m–” the woman whispers, absolutely petrified. I am patient with her. The moment I start throwing orders around, no matter how nice I say it, I will only make things worse for her. “They’re kids,” she whispers, crying silently, squinting her eyes closed from the tears that sting them.
For a moment, I think she’s talking about the little girl in her arms, staring up at me with wide, curious eyes, but I look to the corner at the small dead body, and I understand. This woman has had to watch as these men tortured these kids. She was probably beaten trying to protect them.
“I’m gonna get you both out of here, okay? I will come back for you. I don’t know what I am about to walk into, so I need you to stay out of sight of the guards. Do you know how many there are out there?” I ask again.
She fights to open her swollen eyes, and I feel so helpless. Nobody deserves this shit. I avert my gaze, choosing a spot on the wall, as rage simmers in my blood.
“T-Two,” her voice is quiet, and I want to rip the meat off the bones of whoever is responsible for doing this to them.
This is why I didn’t even hesitate when Titan brought this mission to me four years ago. My goal has always remained the same. To put an end to this shit once and for all. Though, I thought I would have at least had backup when the time came to destroy them.
Standing, I walk out of the room and quietly close the door behind me, not wanting to raise suspicions. My body is vibrating with anger as I unlock every door that follows. Each room is filled with women and children, others filled with those who are already dead. I let them all know that I will come back for them, their hopeful eyes permanently branded in my brain.
Once I’m sure that the coast is clear, I climb the winding stone staircase, checking each room on every floor as I go. Some are empty, and others, I wish , were empty. The cold, gray stone walls are lined with biblical tapestry. Ornate ceilings soar above me, and there are sconces on the walls every few meters, but no light shines from them. The only light source on this level is the sun shining through the large arch window, stained blood-red at the end of this hallway. The beam of light reflects on the door to the right of the window, a beacon, and it looks almost like magic. Dust mites fly through the beam, and unease pricks at me, causing a wave of dread to fill my already vibrating chest. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
I don’t like this.
I walk to the end of the stone hallway and stop once I reach the wooden door. I twist the rusted handle, expecting it to be locked, but it turns in my hand, indicating that it isn’t. My fingers tighten on the axe handle as the door slowly creaks open, revealing a religious, church-like set-up.
I step inside, surprised I don’t burn my feet as I walk over the threshold. I am met with ominous silence, and the smell of burning candle wax, as I walk further down the aisle. My bare feet scratch against the vermillion red carpet, the edges frayed in places, stained with blood, and fuck knows what else. My eyes glance between each pew to see if anyone is hiding behind them, but the room appears to be empty.
The walls are decorated with biblical scriptures and spiritual murals, but nothing about this room feels holy.
God isn’t here.
And if he is real, the church is the last place he’d want to be, knowing what I know about this place. There’s a white box freezer sitting atop the altar, and my eyes drop to see if a power cord is attached, but there isn’t. Whatever is in that freezer isn’t frozen. It takes every bit of strength I have to walk up to it, but I do, despite my instincts telling me not to. I roll my shoulders, and with one shaky hand, I lift the lid, and my blood runs cold at the sight. Bile rises in my throat, and this time, I lose the battle. I lean away from the freezer and vomit. I haven't eaten anything, and I'm thankful because I've been living on fucking clams. I collect myself, knowing I can't ignore it any longer, and I straighten, turning back to face the horrors within the freezer.
The body of a young girl lies pale, battered, and half-eaten. Chunks of flesh in the shape of human bite marks cover her small, malnourished body, and when my eyes meet hers, my breathing stops.
No.
Long dark hair sticks to bloodied, cold skin. Thick, natural lashes frame beautiful, dark eyes looking back at me, only there is no life behind them anymore.
I know those eyes.
Because I looked into eyes just like those once, and when I did, I made a promise. I stare down at the little girl. A wave of grief, stronger than any emotion I have ever felt, hits me in my stomach, as the reality of what’s in front of me sinks in.
I broke that promise.
Mikaiah.
I was too late.
I made a promise to a woman who died on a mission to save her little girl, and I was the one who took her life from her. I promised her that I would save her daughter in her place, but she lies dead in the freezer before me.
My vision blurs, my lips quivering as I choke back a sob. I drop the battle axe to the floor, and reach into the freezer for the girl, Mikaiah , not wanting her to be left here in this state.
In this place.
I pick her up gently, realizing that she hasn’t been dead long enough to stiffen yet.
I am too fucking late!
I walk back down the flights of stairs, holding Mikaiah close to my chest, my heart breaking behind my rib bones. There isn’t a single person in sight, and for a minute, I am not so sure I care. I walk to the end of the dock, stretching out to sea, and stare up at the sky.
“How could you let this happen?!” I cry out, my voice broken, my breaths heavy, and whatever was left of my blackened soul, completely destroyed. What happened to the man who was supposed to save us all?
“You’re a coward! You’re a sick, fucking bastard! She’s just a little girl and you let your messengers fucking eat her! They were eating her. She’s just a little girl,” I’m whispering now, because I know that God isn’t listening.
Heavy droplets fall from my eyes and slide down my face. A sharp stabbing pain ripples through my body, and I fall to my knees, begging for someone to wake me up from this nightmare.
I am too late.
I failed her, the woman, from all those years ago.
I imagine Mikaiah, all alone, wondering what she had done wrong to be taken away from her mother. Wondering when her momma would come to save her, begging for someone, anyone, to save her, but they never did.
Not me.
Not God.
No one.
“I am so sorry I failed you,” I’m sobbing now. “Why does everything I touch become sick with darkness and death?” I say to no one, because the only person who would care to listen was taken from me. “Why, no matter how hard I try, do I fail at everything?” I say this to myself.
I didn’t want to fail, not at this.
I stare into Mikaiah’s eyes, her mother’s eyes, and gently brush the strands of hair that stick to the sides of her blood covered face behind her ears.
“Your momma told me to tell you that she loved you more than the stars, till her very last breath. That, everything she did, she did for you. To find and save you, and, man, she tried, I just know that she did. She would have done anything for her little girl. Your momma was so, so proud of you, and god she was brave. And I am so sorry for what I’ve done. I don’t know what kinda waiting room she’s in, but I know that she’ll be right there by your side when you get there. She’s been waiting up there in the skies for you. She’s been there the whole time, watching over you. Your guardian angel. You’ll be safe up there with her, and you won’t have to be alone anymore. I’m so sorry that this world let you both down. I’m sorry that I let you both down. You deserved better than this life. Tell your mom—tell your mom that they’ll get what’s coming for them. Every last one of them will pay for what they did to you. Rest in peace, angel. I’m sorry.” With a shaky hand, I softly brush my palm over her eyes, closing them for the last time. I curse myself for the bloodied state that I’m in.
Mikaiah deserves better than this.
Carefully, I shift closer to the edge of the dock, Mikaiah still in my arms, and place her gently into the ocean. “Be free, angel,” I say as the tide carries her away.
Broken and empty, I stand. My head tilts to the side as I look up at the corrupt cathedral, looming over the sea like the horror story that it is.
They will pay for the pain and suffering they’ve caused. None of them will get out of this alive.
“I’ll save that fucking priest till last,” I tell myself, as I walk back down the dock to save my girl.