Ignite Me (Shatter Me, #3)(51)

We walk in and he hits the button for the ground floor. The doors close and we start moving.

I glance up at him. “I never knew you had an elevator in your room.”

“I needed private access to my training facilities.”

“You keep saying that,” I tell him. “Training facilities. What’s a training facility?”

The elevator stops.

The doors slide open.

He holds them open for me. “This.”

I’ve never seen so many machines in my life.

Running machines and leg machines and machines that work your arms, your shoulders, your abdominals. There are even machines that look like bikes. I don’t know what any of them are called. I know one of these things is a bench press. I also know what dumbbells look like, and there are racks and racks of those, in all different sizes. Weights, I think. Free weights. There are also bars attached to the ceiling in some places, but I can’t imagine what those are for. There are tons of things around this room, actually, that look entirely foreign to me.

And each wall is used for something different.

One wall seems to be made of stone. Or rock. There are little grooves in it that are accented by what look like pieces of plastic in different colors. Another wall is covered in guns. Hundreds of guns resting on pegs that keep them in place. They’re pristine. Gleaming as if they’ve just been cleaned. There’s a door in that same wall; I wonder where it goes. The third wall is covered in the same black, spongelike material that covers the floors. It looks like it might be soft and springy. And the final wall is the one we’ve just walked through. It houses the elevator, and one other door, and nothing else.

The dimensions are enormous. This space is at least two or three times the size of Warner’s bedroom, his closet, and his office put together. It doesn’t seem possible that all of this is for one person.

“This is amazing,” I say, turning to face him. “You use all of this?”

He nods. “I’m usually in here at least two or three times a day,” he says. “I got off track when I was injured,” he says, “but in general, yes.” He steps forward, touches the spongy black wall. “This has been my life for as long as I’ve known it. Training,” he says. “I’ve been training forever. And this is where we’re going to start with you, too.”

“Me?”

He nods.

“But I don’t need to train,” I tell him. “Not like this.”

He tries to meet my eyes and can’t.

“I have to go,” he says. “If you get bored in here, take the elevator back up. This elevator can only access two levels, so you can’t get lost.” He buttons his blazer. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“Okay.”

I expect him to leave, but he doesn’t. “You’ll still be here,” he finally says, “when I return.”



It’s not exactly a question.

I nod anyway.

“It doesn’t seem possible,” he says, so quietly, “that you’re not trying to run away.”

I say nothing.

He exhales a hard breath. Pivots on one heel. And leaves.





[page]THIRTY-FOUR


I’m sitting on one of the benches, toying with five-pound dumbbells, when I hear his voice.

“Holy shit,” he’s saying. “This place is legit.”

I jump up, nearly dropping the weights on my foot. Kenji and Winston and Castle and Brendan and Ian and Alia and Lily are all walking through the extra door in the gun wall.

Kenji’s face lights up when he sees me.

I run forward and he catches me in his arms, hugs me tight before breaking away. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Kenji says. “He didn’t kill you. That’s a really good sign.”

I shove him a little. Suppress a grin.

I quickly say hi to everyone. I’m practically bouncing I’m so excited to have them here. But they’re all looking around in shock. Like they really thought Warner was leading them into a trap.

“There’s a locker room through here,” Warner is telling them. He points to the door beside the elevator. “There are plenty of showers and bathroom stalls and anything else you might need to keep from smelling like an animal. Towels, soap, laundry machines. All through here.”

I’m so focused on Warner I almost don’t notice Delalieu standing in the corner.



I stifle a gasp.

He’s standing quietly, hands clasped behind his back, watching closely as everyone listens to Warner talk. And not for the first time, I wonder who he really is. Why Warner seems to trust him so much.

“Your meals will be delivered to you three times a day,” Warner is saying. “If you don’t eat, or if you miss a meal and find yourself hungry, feel free to shed your tears in the shower. And then learn to set a schedule. Don’t bring your complaints to me.

“You already have your own weapons,” he goes on, “but, as you can see, this room is also fully stocked and—”

“Sweet,” Ian says. He looks a little too excited as he heads toward a set of rifles.

“If you touch any of my guns, I will break both of your hands,” Warner says to him.

Ian freezes in place.