Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3) (23 page)

“Seriously, Madison, none of this is necessary,” Chase said. “I just fainted and passed out for a couple of minutes, but I’m fine now. Really, I don’t need an IV treatment.” He attempted to move his arm away from the nurse’s reach, but she caught it mid-move.

“Dr. Matthews, are you asking me to forgo my training and discharge you without first following the proper protocol?” She smiled at him as she secured a tourniquet around his arm. “Because I know you wouldn’t dream of asking me to do such a thing, especially when you’re in such an obvious state of distress.”

“Distress? Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic there? It’s just nerves, Madison, nothing else.”

“Nerves?” she asked, disconcerted. “Chase, I’ve never seen you look so horrible in all the years I’ve known you—well, at least not in quite a while, anyway. When you first came in, you were pale, ashen even. You were, and still are, dehydrated. It’s as though your body was in a state of shock, like you’ve just been through something traumatic.”

“I wouldn’t say traumatic. Paige and I were just looking at The Woodland Lodge to get an idea of how things are going to be set up for the wedding.”

“Stress, then, about everything that needs to be done?”

“No, it wasn’t even that. Our wedding planner had me stand at the end of the aisle and envision everything I wanted our wedding to be, and I did.”

“That sounds terrible.” Madison laughed, securing the IV in his arm.

“You’re really full of it tonight.” He chuckled, reaching for the water on his tray.

“So, what did you envision? What was it like?”

“It was everything I ever wanted it to be.”

“What happened, then?”

“I opened my eyes.”

Madison removed her gloves, tossed them into the trash and headed over to the sink to wash her hands. “Well, then I suggest you keep them closed because it’s been my personal experience that one’s dreams are always better than their reality.” She picked up the wrappings for the IV and disposed of them before returning to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, where she fell silent. “Or,” she began again, “you can always choose to live your life with your eyes open, and find every way in your power to make your dreams become your reality, no matter what that may entail.”

“Well, it certainly looks like my future husband is in good hands here,” Paige said, entering the room with a coffee from the cafeteria in her hand. “How is he doing, Madison?”

“Oh, I think he’s going to pull through, eyes open or closed,” she said, smiling at Chase. “Though I recommend he close them for a little while longer as it may provide him with some clarity.”

“Well, then,” Paige said, “you heard the woman, Chase. Close your eyes.”

I lay in bed with Ian, naked, my head resting on his chest, listening to the tempo of his beating heart, the same sound that had lulled me to sleep. Darkness had descended upon us once again with the arrival of nightfall and the expected loss of power to the city.

“Ian,” I whispered, but received no response. His breathing was even and in the same pattern as his heartbeat—the pattern of sleep. I smiled, debating whether to wake him up so we could go downstairs to see what, if anything, we’d missed in the last couple of hours, or let him sleep. Deciding on the latter, I found myself unable to move, knowing that, at this very moment, everything was as close to perfect as it had been in nearly a year. This singular moment—this here and now—was one I wanted to savor, a moment from which I needed to squeeze every last second. Because whether for better or for worse, nothing would ever be the same again. What had happened between us would change us forever.

In that instant, Chase—his face, my memories—flashed through my mind, reminding me that he was still there. Though my thoughts of him were becoming less frequent, I knew he would never fade away entirely. And I didn’t want him to despite how selfish that seemed. My only hope was that someday he would know why it was I had to leave him, and that it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. How and when that would happen, I didn’t know, but I would find a way.

I closed my eyes, nearly drifting off to sleep when I heard a pained scream followed by commotion from the floor below us. In a flash, I bolted out of bed and ran to the window to look out at the street between the openings in the slats. Below, surrounding the entirety of our building for at least as far as I could see, were soldiers, guns drawn and trained on those rebels they’d already managed to pull from the building.

“What is it? Celaine, what’s going on?” Ian asked, woken by the noise. He jumped out of bed to join me at the window.

“We need to get our suits on now,” I answered as I turned away from the horrific view outside and stumbled in the dark to find them. Nearby, heavy footsteps struck the staircase with force. Our time had run out, the last grains of sand in the hourglass had fallen.

We scrambled to throw our suits on in the dark, moving as fast as we could manage. Down the hall, heavy military boots created footsteps so loud they were all but deafening. Doors opened and slammed shut as even the empty rooms were searched, while screams and gunshots came from those rooms where rebel occupants remained hiding.

“Here,” Ian said. I felt something lightly strike my arm, which I caught with a quick maneuver of my hand.

“Ian, no, I’m not wearing your jacket again,” I said, pulling my boot on.

“Yes, you are, and we really don’t have the time to argue over it.” He quickly shuffled around the room as I reluctantly slipped the jacket on, letting him win yet again.

I secured my helmet on over my head and reached inside my holster to ready my gun. Outside our room, the footsteps drew closer. Ian slipped his backpack over his shoulders, tossing mine to me, both of us knowing, but not wanting to admit out loud, that we wouldn’t be returning to this room again once we left it.

“They’re almost here,” Ian said quietly. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up toward him. Two, maybe three, doors down from us, I heard the sound of a boot striking a door. “What do you think? Wait for them to break down our door and surprise them by fighting back?”

“No. We run out there and strike them first, try to take them by surprise.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” he sighed.

“They’re here because of us, because of the bounty placed upon our heads. We need to save as many rebels as possible, Ian. They can’t be made to suffer for the sins Brooks pinned on us.”

“So we fight, save as many of them as possible, and then we run. Best case scenario.”

“Best case scenario.”

“Worst case scenario, we’re captured, imprisoned while Brooks gloats and parades us around in front of his cameras, and then we’re executed in front of a crowd of his most stalwart followers.”

“Keep your glass half-full, Ian.”

“Trust me, after tonight my glass is running over.”

My face burned, which made me thankful for the darkness. “Mine too,” I said.

“Then let’s make that our motivation, to live so we can have more tonights.”

The door to the room next to ours was forced open as soldiers ran in, searching for its occupants. Ian turned to walk toward our door, but was cut short by me when I grabbed him in desperation and found his lips with mine with surprising ease.

“To more tonights,” I whispered. I let him go and held my gun at my side, ready to take aim the second he opened the door.

“It’s now or never.” He gripped the handle, threw the door open and, together, we ran out into the hallway just as the soldiers were making their way back into the hallway from the neighboring room.

Victor’s boots made a discernable thump with each step on the asphalt of the deserted street. In his hand, he carried a round, sphere-like object, which he threw up into the air, nimbly catching it with one hand when it came down. Strapped to his back was a satchel containing several more of the small, metallic objects, all with timers systematically set to go off within minutes of each other. The bombs were small, yet their effect would be devastating, enough to level the buildings along the block in which he walked.

Though it had taken him the better part of a week of meticulous planning, preparation and the ultimate planting of each of the spheres, he had finally finished. In just about every building within a two-mile radius of where he now stood, he had planted at least one of the spherical objects, rigged to explode. And each explosion would send a clear message to the one person he hoped they would touch the most.

He scowled as he passed familiar buildings, as memories of the past –of his former life—flooded through his head. Memories of his years as a doctor, full of hope and promise, of his friendship with a young up-and-comer named George Stevens. Not too many people had gotten him, but George had. Together they’d shared a vision of advancing their research, taking the practice of medicine to new heights. George Stevens had been his confidant, his partner, until he’d stabbed him in the back.

Victor cursed the wind at the memory of being called into the office of the hospital’s chief of staff, of being asked to resign and then being promptly escorted from the premises after he refused. All of his work, his research that would change the world, was lost. Research that could lead to prolonged life, to an enhanced human, to even the future possibility of immortality, was stripped away from him, forcing him to start from scratch, which set him back years in the process.

All the while, Dr. George Stevens ascended through the ranks at Hope Memorial Hospital, becoming the recipient of numerous commendations, awards, and invitations to speak at countless forums. Victor sneered at the thought of his former friend and colleague’s success, of which he kept track through newspaper clippings, magazine articles and other forms of media, waiting for the day he would show him how wrong he had been to doubt him and his research.

And I showed him
, Victor smiled sadistically.
He went to his grave knowing I’d beaten him.

Victor rounded the block, promptly stopping in his tracks to take in the sight of The Woodland Lodge. Located in the dead center of the blast area, it was his new epicenter, the nexus where all of his careful planning would come to bear fruit. The place where he would rid himself of the Stevens name forever.

Victor beamed.
And
soon, very soon, my dear George, I will show your daughter what I’m capable of, too
.

No sooner did we open the door to our room than the soldiers began streaming out of the room next to us. Effectively catching them off guard, Ian and I charged at them one by one as we battled our way down the hallway. I struck first, landing a blow with the heel of my boot to the chest of the first soldier to come rushing out of the room, sending him sprawling down on the floor. Beside me, Ian landed a punch square to the jaw of another while delivering a blow to the chest of a second one with his elbow.

“Overachiever,” I quipped.

“Hey, when you’re good, you’re good,” he said, kicking the gun out of the hands of the next soldier to leave the room.

Ahead, I could make out the figures of those rebels captured during the raid on their rooms forcibly being ushered down the hallway toward the staircase. “We need to speed this along,” I called out to Ian. “They’re pushing everyone downstairs, and I don’t even want to think about what they’re going to do to them when they get down there.”

I caught a soldier by the arm, knocking his gun free before he even had a chance to take aim. The weapon fell to the floor, and I swooped down to retrieve it, promptly picking it up and fitting it inside my empty holster. In my peripheral vision, I saw Ian toss a gun he’d removed from another soldier down the opposite end of the hallway. It made a sharp scraping sound when it struck the wooden flooring, sliding nearly a foot before it came to rest.

On my right side, I saw a figure coming at me. Instinctively, I ducked as I attempted to trip him up, but not before he was able to take aim and get a shot off. It struck the wall behind my shoulder, inches away from making contact with me. In a flash, Ian struck the soldier, his fist creating a sickening crunching sound the moment it impacted with his jaw. The man crumpled to the floor, dazed. Yet another shot was fired, barely missing Ian this time. I looked up to see the last of the soldiers as he left the guest room, advancing toward us. Before he could get another shot off, I ran at him, throwing him down to the floor square on his back. With the gun still in his unwavering hand, he attempted to aim, but I held his hand down with my boot, hoping it would prevent him from firing. He loosened his grip, and I grabbed the gun from his outstretched hand and threw it down the hall in the same direction as the one Ian had thrown.

Ian and I backed down the hall, our guns trained on anything and everything, unsure of what horrors we would encounter once we got downstairs. From outside the building, we could hear screams and more gunfire as the soldiers descended upon the rebels. Our footsteps quickened toward the staircase, but we abruptly halted when we heard glass shattering throughout the rooms.

“Windows?” I asked, confused.

“It sounds like it,” he said.

“But why? They’re almost entirely boarded-up. There’s barely enough space to fit a fist through it. It’s not like anyone could fit through them.”

Another sudden shattering sound broke through the air in the room nearest to us. Startled and with guns still drawn firmly in front of us, we backed down the hallway to peer inside the empty room. As suspected, the window had been broken, but by what and for what purpose?

“What’s that?” Ian asked, pointing down toward the floor. I followed his finger to a red light that appeared, then disappeared, appeared, then disappeared again, drawing closer with each rotation. “It’s attached to something rolling.”

A small spherical object appeared from the room, slowing to a crawl as it came to rest inside the doorway. I looked at the blinking red light. Red, pause, red, pause, always at a one-second interval, methodically ticking away time as though it was preparing itself for a grand finale. “We have to get out of here now,” I commanded Ian, my fears rising to the surface. Sensing the terror in my voice, he backed away from the doorway and turned to sprint by my side toward the staircase.