Whisper (Whisper #1)(32)

Ward knows I am a monster now. And soon enough, Falon and the rest of Lengard will, too. I have no idea what they’re going to do with me. To me. But if what I’ve suffered so far while remaining silent is any indication, my outlook is grim indeed.

I never wanted any of them to know. I tried — so hard — to keep it a secret. To take it to my grave with me. But … I also can’t bring myself to regret what just happened, not when it means Abby is humming quietly at my side right now.

But if Ward hadn’t been there, hadn’t been able to guide me through it — I don’t even want to think about what might have happened.

Lost in my anxiety, I’m caught by surprise when we step out of the second elevator and Ward unties the blindfold. Unending walls assail my vision, and something inside me shrivels up to hibernate once more.

Too soon, we arrive at the Falons’ suite, where Esther takes one look at her nearly comatose children and has to hide a smile behind her hand. But then she glances up at Ward and me, and any trace of her amusement flees. I don’t know what my face shows, and I don’t dare look at him, so I wonder what she can read from our expressions.

I don’t have long to wonder, because Ward is quick to make our excuses — quick to get me away from his family.

I swallow the lump that lodges in my throat as we leave their quarters and head down the whitewashed corridors again, a heavy silence between us. All the things we’ve left unsaid.

I’m trembling from head to toe, something Ward must feel since I’m still cuffed to him. It’s the first time we’ve walked the hallways together when I haven’t been free at his side, and that, more than anything else, tells me everything I need to know about what is coming next.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Swallowed by the too-comfortable chair in Director Falon’s office, I feel just like the orbiting second hand of the clock on the wall. No matter how many times it moves forward, ultimately it will end up back where it started. Sixty seconds, and all that work was for nothing.

Two years, seven months and eleven days, wasted by a single word. I’m right back where I began, and it only took four letters:

S

T

O

P

I don’t know where Ward is. All I know is that he brought me straight to Falon’s office and didn’t so much as knock on the door before entering and pulling me through with him. The director was on the phone when we barged in. After one look at Ward’s face, he muttered a swift, “I’ll call you back,” and promptly ended the call. He rose to his feet, ordered me to take a seat and left the room with Ward in tow.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Whole hours could be passing — days, months, years, perhaps — but all I see is that second hand going around and around. Always moving but never finding any end to its journey.

The door slides open, interrupting my thoughts, and Falon steps back into the room.

Ward isn’t with him.

The director doesn’t take a seat. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, assessing me. My palms begin to sweat and my nerves are zinging, telling me to do something. Flight. Fight. They don’t care which — just something. But I do nothing except remain seated, hold his gaze and listen to the clock tick toward its unreachable destination.

It feels like an eternity before Falon’s appraisal ends and he abruptly says, “Come with me, Jane. There’s something I want you to see.”

I blink once. Twice. Then force myself from the chair and move to leave the room. Falon shakes his head, though, and presses his hand against the touch screen mounted next to the door. Following that, he leans forward for a retinal scan. A moment passes before a hiss sounds and part of the wall on the left side of the office slides away, revealing a hidden exit.

“This way, please.”

With a turn of his wrist, he politely gestures for me to go first.

I’m intrigued. And not just a little terrified. For all I know, he’s taking me to some kind of execution chamber. But all I can see as I step forward is another long hallway.

Falon moves through after me, and the secret wall closes behind us, sealing us out of his office.

I ball my hands into fists behind my back to keep him from seeing the visible manifestation of my anxiety. Falon’s eyes miss nothing, though, and I’m floored when he sends me a hint of a comforting smile. He dips his head forward, indicating that we’re to move, and he starts off down the corridor.

Unlike all the other hallways I’ve encountered at Lengard, this one isn’t on even ground. It slants downward. And soon the walls change colors — something else I’ve never seen. The change is gradual at first, slowly darkening from sterile white to pastel gray, smoky gray, dark gray. We’ve reached charcoal by the time we hit an elevator, almost like the walls themselves are saying there’s something different about this hidden hallway. Warning. Danger. Take Caution.

We step into the enclosed space, and after another handprint and retinal scan from Falon, the doors seal us inside and the metal box plummets at an incredible speed. I’m not prepared for it since I hadn’t imagined there was much farther down we could go. But we’re dropping like lead, deep into the bowels of the earth.

By the time we come to a stop, my ears are blocked and I feel uncomfortably nauseous.