Emerge: The Captive: (Book 3)(45)
With that, Jayesh turned and walked away.
“What just happened?” Sasha asked.
“It appears the young man isn’t prepared to take on the role of teacher yet,” Brother Rabishan said, watching Jayesh disappear into the valley. “It’s a shame. We were having fun.”
“I don’t know what that was, but something spooked him and it wasn’t me going teen brat on him.”
“Perhaps you are simply more than he expected,” Rabishan said, shaking with laughter. “But you are absolutely right, young Sasha. He must earn your trust if he expects you to fully commit to becoming a Chola assassin. I’m afraid you two are going to have to find a way to become friends if you are ever to move forward.”
“I have enough friends, thanks,” Sasha muttered.
~~~
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Quinn: Fall
Atlanta, Georgia
“What is with you two?” Livia threw her hands up in disgust. “You have the chance to use each other to make your own situations better, but you’re so concerned about the other, you’re torturing yourselves for no reason. It's just prolonging the inevitable and making this harder than it needs to be.”
“It’s called being a decent human being,” Santi said. “You must have missed that lesson growing up.”
“Well, being a decent human being never got me anywhere.” Livia shoved her hands into her boxing gloves, a sure sign she was annoyed. Quinn just hoped she’d vent her frustrations on the punching bag instead of his face. One hit and he would go down like a sack of rocks.
Quinn flexed his shoulders, trying to work out the ache in his back. He was so hungry and exhausted from Livia’s demented schedule he wasn’t sure how he was still on his feet. His reprieve had been short and sweet, and now he was caught up in Soma’s newest torture scheme.
Every morning for the last month, Livia delivered Quinn to the entrance of Soma’s version of the Yard. A ten-thousand-square-foot warehouse connected to Sterling Tower via an underground tunnel. The warehouse was the result of a myriad of gifts, much like the Yard was at home. When stepping into the warehouse for the first time, Quinn felt like he’d stepped through a portal to another realm. The forest was unlike anything he’d ever seen, dense and dark with menacing plant life that grew quickly and crept along the ground in an unnatural way. The whole place was unnatural. From the wildlife lurking in the darkness, right up to the sheer mountain peak hidden among dark, swirling clouds.
Each morning he was given the same task: run to the top of the mountain to retrieve a two-hundred-pound log waiting for him there. If he dropped it on the way down, he had to start over. The old Immortal who lived in the warehouse was responsible for the landscape, which changed constantly from one week to the next. The terrain grew more challenging each week and the log became heavier and more difficult to find. The expanse of wilderness inside the building defied the laws of physics, but the old Immortal’s ability was extraordinary. Quinn had five hours each day to complete the task. If he failed, Santi was sent to Michael for the night while Quinn was given a feast and a full night’s sleep. He rarely failed.
But failure was the whole point of the impossible exercise. They were supposed to fail, but neither of them could face what that failure meant for the other. So Quinn spent his days running up the mountain and back down as fast as he possibly could. Every day he dropped the log at Santi’s feet with barely a moment to spare, his clothes drenched in sweat and his heart racing in his chest. It was her job to return the log to the top of the mountain each afternoon. If she failed, Quinn was sent to Michael for the night while she got to feast and rest. She rarely failed, but when she did, Michael made sure it was the worst night of Quinn’s life.
After Quinn completed his daily task he trained with Livia in her private gym in the evenings. She spent hours pushing him further and further into his addiction, keeping him dancing on the cusp of going too far.
And on the nights when he’d failed his task, he had to see the fear in Santi’s eyes when Michael came to collect her. The food tasted like ash and he tossed and turned the whole night worrying about her. On the nights when they were both successful, Santi and Quinn spent a quiet night together on the wide balcony that ran the length of the penthouse. They weren’t allowed to eat or sleep, but they found solace in each other.
“Hold my bag, Quinn. I need to hit something.”
“Liv, what you need is a good, long talk with a therapist,” he muttered as he took his place behind the punching bag.
“Quinn's got jokes.” Livia laughed, landing her first strike, leaving him breathless.
His time at Soma had taught him one thing: Livia was merciless, but that wasn’t the real Livia. He suspected she had no idea who she really was.
Quinn let out a grunt when her foot connected with the bag. He stood, clinging to the punching bag so he didn’t fall over. An outsider might wonder what had her so furious, but he knew. She hated watching them struggle. She hated doing this to them. Deep down, she wanted them to take turns failing so at least one of them would get a good meal and some much-needed rest. Livia didn’t understand how they could care so much about each other in such a short time that they would be willing to kill themselves every day just to see that the other didn’t have to suffer at Michael’s hand.