Disclaimer: I do not own MR. No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: After numerous threats, here is the next chapter. Enjoy…
Chapter Eight: Fight or Flight
I have two seconds to pull on my panties and Fang's shirt before the guards reach Fang. The thought of the Director and his henchmen seeing me completely bare is enough to distract me from the fight for those two seconds. I want to think that Fang will be the only one to touch my naked skin.
When partially dressed, I swing around to help Fang in any way I can. He throws one guard onto the ground hard enough to put him out of commission. The display of strength is overwhelming. I would not like to be on the receiving end of his fury.
More guards enter the room and the sheer number of them is daunting. I fear even Fang will have trouble against so many. They don't seem to be using their weapons yet, however, which is a significant relief. They must still want us alive. For how long, I don't know.
Poor Wayne is curled up in a ball on the floor, trying to avoid the onslught of guards.
Fang punches someone in the jaw hard and I hear it crack. I am distracted for long enough that a hand clasps down on my shoulder. I grab the hand and twist out of reflex and then swing the arm behind my attacker's back. With a yank, his arm is dislocated and I kick him onto the ground. Another guard reaches me and I punch him in the gut. When he doubles over, I grab his head and slam it into my knee. He falls to the ground, moaning in pain.
I can't see the Director. He must have relocated to a safer position.
Fang has cleared a path through the guards and he grabs my hand and pulls me through. We break into the hallway, kicking and punching a path clear. Once we have cleared the hallways, we run as fast as we possibly can. I know this is the only chance we'll get to escape. If we're caught, it will more than likely be our death.
I keep my eyes trained on Fang's back as we run. His wings flutter in agitation, but I can't take time to admire his beauty and perfection.
The shouts behind us are gaining, and I know that they will stop at no cost to apprehend us.
We crash into an old fire staircase and we stumble down the stairs. Shouts from below alert us that we've made a mistake though. They are attempting to cut us off. We barge through the first door we see into another corridor. I am panting. My side throbs in memory of my fairly recent injury, but I push through the pain.
Fang pushes a table in front of the door, but we both know it won't stop them for long. He stops moving for a moment and I stop as well out of reflex. I don't know why we're stopping but I trust Fang with my life.
He cups my face and tilts his head to mine. Our lips touch and it's like time has stopped. In that moment there are no guards; there is no danger. There is only Fang and me and our feelings. His kiss scorches my mouth. He has claimed me in every possible way and I know that I will never belong to anyone but him.
"I love you," I whisper when he pulls away.
"Max," Fang breathes. I hear his love in that one word. But we don't have time for this, and Fang knows it. He grabs my hand and we're sprinting down the hall. The door breaks open behind us, but we keep running.
I fall slightly behind Fang, but he pushes on.
He runs straight through the window at the end of the hall. Glass shatters and everything is in slow motion. He sails through the air, his wings unfurling. For a second he is silhouetted against the sun. And then I see the arrow slam into his wing. In a burst of feathers Fang drops out of sight.
I scream.
I am about to jump through the window when I am slammed to the ground. My head smashes against the ground and I'm out cold.
x
x
x
When I wake up my head is throbbing. I gingerly feel the bump on my temple and wince. Then my surroundings start to sink in. I'm underground and surrounded by stone walls. A heavy door is the only way in or out. I don't even have a window.
I'm in isolation. Only the truly dangerous or misbehaving prisoners get sent here.
I shiver and try to rub some warmth into my skin, but I know it's useless. This room is designed to keep prisoners uncomfortable.
I test the door, just to make sure, but it's useless. I slump against the uneven stone floor and wait. It takes hours before the slot at the bottom of the door slides open and a bowl of watered down soup and a piece of stale bread appears in my cell. I attack it immediately.
I try not to dwell on Fang as I sit and wait, but I don't exactly have anything to distract me. I wonder if he managed to escape, even with a damaged wing. I hurt at the thought of him hurting. I refuse to think that he's dead. I'd know, wouldn't I? I feel like I would have to feel it in my heart.
I start to shiver uncontrollably after what I suppose is three hours. My limbs are numb and there is nothing I can do to warm up. I attempt to walk around the cell, but my limbs get a really bad case of pins and needles. I wonder if I will freeze to death and whether that will be a better alternative to whatever I'll face with the Director.
Finally, the door unlocks and swings open. Two guards handle me roughly out of the cell and don't let go as they lead me up numerous stairs. Eventually, I am shackled to a chair in what I assume is the Director's office. The guards don't leave the room.
The Director enters with a smug smile on his face. The sight of him sends my blood to boiling point. I just want to get my hands around his throat. I jerk against my chains, but my arms won't budge.
"You don't look so good, Max. Isolation doesn't agree with you," the Director comments.
I grit my teeth and my knuckles turn white.
He takes a seat at his desk and studies me with beady eyes. The feel of his eyes creeping over my barely dressed state makes me sick. I want to retch, but I won't give him the satisfaction.
"I've decided that you'll be continuing with the games. In fact, there's nothing I'd like more than for you to try your hand at the labyrinth. Then you'll have to fight to the death against Fang."
My heart clenches. "You found him?" I ask, my voice weak from disuse.
The Director's eye twitches and I clutch onto that sign of weakness. He's bluffing! Fang escaped. It's my turn to smile smugly at him.
"What?" he snaps.
"You haven't found him," I state, completely sure.
His jaw clenches and I grin.
"Not yet. But we know that he hasn't left the city. Everyone is searching for him. There's nowhere he can hide. It's only a matter of time."
I have more faith in Fang than that.
"Plus, he's injured."
My heart plummets at that reminder.
"Anyway, in the meantime you'll be personally keeping my friends and me company." He leers at me with a glint in his eye. "I'd get used to be partially naked," he adds.
My heart rate increases.
"Find her something more appropriate to wear before you take her to the club," the Director says to the guards. They unshackle me as I struggle against them. "Send her to Angel to get ready. I want her looking her best."
I scream in frustration as the guards manhandle me out of the room while the Director just laughs. I don't know what the club is, but I definitely don't like the sound of it.
When we enter Angel's private rooms, the guards don't move a foot away from me. I cry silently in humiliation as Angel undresses me in front of them. She hands me some black lingerie and gives me a sympathetic look. I'm loathe to part with Fang's shirt, but there isn't anything I can do.
In the end I end up wearing less clothes than what I started with. I wear a set of nice black lingerie complete with thigh-high black stockings and a garter belt. She gives me a pair of skyscraper heels. My hair ends up looking tousled and much like bed-hair while my makeup is dark and smoky. She uses waterproof mascara after my silent tears keep trailing down my cheeks.
The guards don't say anything as they lead me to the "club", but the looks on their faces says it all. They've seen me completely bare and they're not about to forget it. My shoulders start to shake.
When we reach the club, which turns out to be a dank dark room with a bar and a bunch of old men, I am led to the Director. A bunch of other girls float around the room, wearing lingerie and carrying serving trays. Some have wings and some don't. I'm shackled to the Director and given a tray of fruit and cheese. The Director yanks on my arm chains whenever he wants me to feed him. The feel of his lips on my fingers makes my physically ill. But I don't say a word.
The dirty old men's laughter rings throughout the room and I start to plot.
I'll get my revenge, that's for sure.
Even if it costs my life.