Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)(66)

Unleashed. The snap unclicked and my emotions set free the moment I saw her in that cell. The matted hair, dried blood on her face, eyes dead. And it was then, that moment, when all my training to be unemotional had a purpose—it was to be able to walk away from her so I could stay alive in order to get her out one day.

I’d stared at her, locking away the emotions that fought to surface and gave her the words she needed to hear. Then I left. I f*ckin’ left with my guise of patience fragmenting and my insides catapulted into a war zone of grated rage.

The ‘farmhands’ had it right after all. Emotions were the monsters and I’d become one.

London was mine. She’d never belong to them—ever. They should’ve never touched her in the beginning. Never ruined her. No, tried to ruin her.

I ran my finger along the blade of my knife, watching for any sign that someone had discovered I’d killed Mother, yet appearing like I was out for a stroll—in a dark, musty dungeon. Mother’s house was an old castle that had stone walls and sconces with candles to light the halls, but they were only used for visual effect.

I probably had twelve to twenty-four hours before anyone discovered Mother was dead. Not much time to fly back to Toronto and get London out, but it was enough. Deck and his men were on stand-by and Tristan had his private jet waiting at the airport to get us out fast.

I’d taken Mother’s cell phone so I’d know if anyone was looking for her and her laptop to hack to try to find the location of the farm, the drug formula, and the anonymous board member. My skills weren’t as good as Chaos’s, and I knew Deck’s man, Tyler, specialized in this shit.

I stopped at the last heavy wooden door on the right with large black iron studs along the edge. Unlike the Toronto house, nothing here had eye scanners and fingerprint access, only old school key and locks granted access, which I’d also grabbed from Mother.

On the other side of the door, I heard my sister’s faint footsteps. There was that subtle limp she had from when she was shot in the thigh when she’d tried to escape.

The memories of Chess had been filtering in lately. I’d even told London about her when I’d never told anyone. It was like I was thawing, the ice congealed around my emotions melting a little each day. The constant conditioning to become emotionless and uncaring since I was seven years old had worked—until London.

I put my knife away, inserted the key, turned it, and pushed open the door.

My sister wouldn’t willingly leave with me because she didn’t trust me. And why should she?

“Francesca.” She stood on the other side of the room, stance wide, arms at her side, fingers curled into fists. She was never a fighter and yet she excelled at it.

She was an open book with her emotions, ones that they’d never been able to break her of. No matter what they’d done to her, Chess remained compassionate, but it was now with an edge.

She laughed, but the sound didn’t match her hard, sapphire eyes that had once been soft and gentle. “Dearest brother. Are you here to finally lead me to my death? Did Helena send you to do the honors?”

She called our mother by name, refusing the association.

Chess should be dead already. Being the daughter of one of the board members, she’d been given the privilege of remaining alive after her attempt to escape. They caught her. Shot her in the leg then tortured her before she was to be executed. But I reasoned with Mother that execution was a poor example for others. Chess deserved to suffer for the disloyalty she’d shown Vault and Mother. Death was too simple and kind. Too permanent.

I remember Chess glaring at me, her hatred blazing because she wanted to die. But I’d needed her to hate me, so Mother would believe me. It was always about Mother believing me. I realized that I’d never forgotten our connection and even with it numbed and in the far reaches of my mind, the instinct was still there to protect her.

It was the same look she had now as we faced one another. Her hand went to her back pocket and before she had a chance to pull whatever weapon she had, I threw my knife and it sliced through the arm of her T-shirt and embedded in the wall behind her.

I ducked and rolled at the last second as her makeshift wooden spike skimmed my shoulder. It hit the stone mantel and fell to the floor. But she didn’t stop as she threw another. I reached into my boot and dove behind the bed as I threw my dagger, my aim off to the right like I wanted. She’d know I’d purposely missed. Everyone knew I never missed my mark.

She stopped, the tension easing from her face. “Kai?”

“It’s time, Chess.”

I kept my eyes on her. Despite her circumstance, she still had this magnetic quality about her, with her soft features and eyes that sucked you into her warmth when she wasn’t pissed at you. Her hair was jagged, shoulder-length black strands, which contradicted her facial appearance. She had broad hips and even wearing pants I could tell she’d been working out with her muscled thighs. I suspected it was to strengthen her bad leg.

She walked to the far side of the room where there was a shelf holding a wall of books. My sister had always been a voracious reader. Fictional romance fairy tales and perhaps the reason she was foolish enough to try to escape Vault, thinking it was possible to do the impossible. Although, we were changing that fallacy.

I remained at the door, listening for any footsteps coming down the corridor, but when I checked the security cameras on Mother’s computer, one goon was at the front door and the other was in the garden prowling the grounds. There was also a cook and two maids, but it was highly unlikely they would come down here.