Chapter Sixteen
Arabelle felt her jaw drop. Leo was that scary old man’s son?! It was hard to believe.
Leo thought so, too, apparently. He looked a bit shaken, but his voice was firm as he said, “You’re lying.”
“Suit yourself.” Big Ben shrugged, looking very pleased with himself. “But why would I lie about that? I could have said something crazy like you’re an alien from Mars or somethin’.”
“At least now I know that’s not a possibility,” Leo replied scathingly, his voice dripping with hate. “Because it’s not like I know where I do come from.”
Arabelle eyed Leo worriedly, watching as he put his hand unknowingly to his stomach and started working his feet under him to stand up. Ben kicked him back down. Leo snarled, his face strained, and she could tell that he was in a lot of pain and trying not to show it. No doubt because Big Ben would probably leap on the opportunity to make him feel even worse.
“Well, anyway, guess I should tell you what I’m supposed to tell you.” Steadying his rifle again with his good arm, Big Ben nodded his head toward her without taking his eyes off Leo and said, “She comes with me.”
“The hell she does!” Leo roared, and Big Ben had to hold Leo to the floor with his foot and the gun.
“Boss’s orders. Guess he wants to have a little chat with her.”
The guy certainly knew how to push Leo’s buttons, because her friend—boyfriend?—looked ready to explode.
“I won’t let you,” Leo growled through bared teeth, his long canines glistening with saliva. Big Ben mustn’t get intimidated easily, because Arabelle thought that Leo looked absolutely terrifying.
“I was afraid you’d say somethin’ along those lines,” Big Ben said, feigning disappointment.
Arabelle saw something shiny drop down out of Ben’s sling into his waiting hand. Leo didn’t notice. Before she could shout a warning, he plunged a syringe deep into the top of Leo's arm.
Leo hissed with pain, staring down at the syringe with shock and anger. Snarling, he swiped at the other man’s head, but Ben ducked and backed up a few steps. He dodged the next five blows that Leo tried to land after scrambling to his feet, each one getting more and more sluggish. Then Leo staggered to a halt, breathing heavily as he tried to stay conscious, and whispered “Sorry, Ara—” before collapsing into a heap on the floor.
Arabelle was trembling, unwilling to look at Big Ben, keeping her eyes glued to Leo’s motionless body. In her peripheral vision, she could see Ben moving toward her, stopping just a couple of feet away.
His voice was surprisingly apologetic as he said, “I really wish you hadn’t gotten mixed up in all this.” Then, more sternly, he ordered, “Don’t say a word till I say it’s okay. You’re going to follow me, and don’t be tryin’ nothin’ funny, ya hear? Or I won’t hesitate to shoot.”
From some dark recess of her mind, she found the courage to say, “You’re going to kill me, anyway, so what does it matter?” She had wanted to sound strong, but her voice was halting and raspy with barely restrained tears.
The worst part was that Big Ben didn’t deny it. He handed her a black scarf from his pants pocket and said, “Cover your eyes.”
Once she’d reluctantly blinded herself, she felt the cold metal of the muzzle poke into her lower back to prod her along, and she allowed herself to be led. There wasn’t any other choice.
“Stop outside the door.”
She did, and she heard him pressing buttons behind her, no doubt securing Leo within the room again. She couldn’t help but ask, “Is he going to be all right?”
That earned her a sharp jab in the back from the rifle, and Big Ben snapped, “I told you not to speak!”
She bit back the word sorry, feeling the blindfold dampen with her tears. With Leo locked away from her, all her fears suddenly swarmed up to suffocate her, and she couldn’t stop thinking I’m about to die. When Big Ben told Leo that she was just going for a chat, that was likely synonymous to saying that she was going to be disposed of.
As he pushed her along, occasionally guiding her in the right direction with a rough hand, she heard herself start to hiccup with sobs, unable to reign in her terror.
I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.
Arabelle hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to her mother, who was already suffering so much from her husband’s death. Her mom was probably so worried about her, not knowing where she’d disappeared to. Not being a person to wait anything out, her mom had most definitely called the cops by now.
That thought did little by way of bringing Arabelle hope. Cops would never think to check for a kidnapper at the glorified pharmaceutical company that had benefited Preston County so much.
Big Ben abruptly stopped her progress, gripping her shoulder tightly as if she’d make a break for it. Maybe she should. And risk getting shot? her brain protested, but she figured that it was probably better than whatever they had planned for her in here.
Right as she tensed her body, ready to sprint, her blindfold was ripped away, and she had to blink against the sudden brightness. When she could focus, she found herself in a sterile-looking room with up-to-date computers against the far left wall and two gleaming metal tables in the middle of the room. Besides a couple lounge chairs and a small desk with a lamp against the back wall, there was nothing else to look at.
Running away would have been futile. The door to the room had already been silently closed behind her. To her right, Big Ben stood erect and quiet, his normally sarcastic face set in rigid, no-nonsense lines. In front of her, the man whom Leo called Sir stood, his face contorted in what she thought might be a smile. It looked like smiling was almost painful for him. Maybe he wasn’t used to it.
Looking around again, she noted that this didn’t seem like the type of room anyone would ever die in. She was probably going to be the exception. The floors were glaring white tiles—easy enough to mop up blood.
No, don’t think about it! one part of her mind screamed, while another part of her panicked and thought again, I’m going to die!
Before she could think about what she was doing, she was pushing back against Ben, trying to get past him to the door. She started pleading pathetically, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t kill me. Please don’t. Please, please.” She sniffed, her nose running, and her breath caught on a sob. She was starting to hyperventilate as Ben firmly held her in place.
“Now, now, there’s no need for that,” the older man said, trying halfheartedly to soothe her.
She didn’t trust this man at all, and she didn’t like the way that his dull brown eyes never warmed with his words or the fake smile plastered on his lips. She could see him watching her, calculating, deciding her fate. He was a man who could kill.
She hiccupped, sobbing louder.
“Have a seat, girl,” he said pleasantly, ignoring her cries completely, as if they were about to sit down to a nice cup of tea.
She couldn’t bring herself to move. Her legs felt wooden, rooted to the floor. Big Ben helped her out by pushing her none-too-gently towards one of the lounge chairs.
“Now, Benjamin, there’s no need for that. The girl can move on her own.”
Arabelle didn’t think she could, but when the edge of the chair brushed against her knees, she collapsed into it, her chin falling to her chest. She bit back her sobs, but tears continued to pour silently down her cheeks.
“There. Isn’t that better?” the man asked, taking the other seat across from her. “What’s your name, girl?”
She stayed silent.
“I guess if we’re going to be exchanging names, I should give you mine. I’m General Jameson.”
She knew the name vaguely from newspapers talking about GenLabs. She thought he was the founder of the company. How could he allow something like this to go on? How could he be hiding such horrible experiments behind a façade of wanting to help people with groundbreaking research and medicines?
Beneath her terror, a new emotion started boiling up inside her: anger. Slowly lifting her head, she glared at him through a blur of tears. She figured that she might as well say what she wanted to say, since it wasn’t going to make a difference in the end.
“I know you might think Leo’s a monster, but I think it’s pretty clear here who the real monster is.” Her voice only shook a little bit, strengthened by her growing resentment. “How can you do this?”
General Jameson didn’t look fazed in the least by what she said. The only difference in his face was that he was no longer pretending to smile. He was just gazing levelly at her.
When she didn’t say anything else, he ignored her question and asked, “What do you know about Leonardo?”
Arabelle was pretty sure that he was trying to see how much she knew to decide whether or not she should die for it. While she was angry, she still had a strong sense of self-preservation, so she almost lied about knowing of Leo’s claws and fangs. But then she realized that Big Ben would only call her on it. She wished the thug would just leave.
Arabelle chose her words carefully. “He’s special.” He’s special to me. She wouldn’t say that part, but her heart squeezed in her chest when she thought it. Suddenly fear for her own life was accompanied by fear for Leo’s. She was afraid that she might not be the only person to die based on what she said. She had to protect her mother and Thom and Leo.
As if reading her mind, General Jameson said, “Leonardo probably told you what happened to Thom, and I could do that to you, too, if you don’t cooperate and answer all my questions.”
Her throat constricted, and she squeaked out, “Thom?” Oh God, what have they done! Leo hadn’t mentioned anything. “What—What happened to Thom? What did you do!” Her voice was beginning to rise with panic again.
“Would you like to find out?” the General asked smoothly, face impassive.
Beside her, Big Ben stirred. She sneaked a peek and noticed him passing a questioning look to the older man before forcing his face into a stoic mask once again. Maybe he didn’t know what the old guy had done, either. Which might mean nothing had been done. General Jameson could be lying to her, trying to scare her. He had to be, because Leo would have told her about Thom if there’d been anything to tell.
That calmed her down a bit, and she said, “You already know what I know.”
“Is that right? Well, then, how about you tell me what that is, just to be sure.” His smile this time was a lot more threatening.
Arabelle swallowed nervously. Even if he had been lying about Thom, that didn’t make her in any less danger. “Um, h-he has sharp nails—”
“Claws,” the General corrected, nodding at her to go on.
“Yeah, um, claws.” Her face reddened under his intense gaze; she hated being in the center of his attention. Clearing her throat, she added, “He’s got long teeth, too.” She didn’t say anything about his enhanced senses, since neither of them had any reason to believe that she already knew about those. She figured the less she knew, the better. She finished with, “So he’s special. Like I said.”
“Did Leonardo ever talk about us?”
“No. Not until G.I. Joe over here chased after us.”
A flicker of annoyance flashed across the General’s face, and she saw him shoot a glare at Big Ben.
Seeing her chance at redirecting the older man’s attention, Arabelle continued with, “I was really scared. He shot at me.”
“What!” Big Ben roared, and Arabelle almost smiled triumphantly. Almost. Instead, she opened her eyes wide and cowered away from the huge looming form of Ben, as if she were terrified of the memory—which wasn’t hard to portray, since it was true.
“I’ll deal with you later,” the General growled. Then, looking at her, his face lost all pretense of friendliness as he asked, “Who all have you told? Has Leonardo told anyone else besides you?”
“Leo didn’t tell me anything. I found out during their fight.” She nodded her head towards Big Ben, causing General Jameson to glare at him again. “And me and Thom are the only people Leo’s even talked to.” Spur of the moment, she added, “I don’t even think Thom knows.”
“That’s already been determined,” the General stated in a gruff voice. Arabelle had no idea whether that meant General Jameson thought that Thom did know, or that he didn’t know, but she didn’t ask.
“Now answer my question.”
“Huh?” she said dumbly, confused.
“Have you told anyone else?”
“Oh. No, of course not.”
The General’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘of course not’?”
Taken aback, she said honestly, “I would never do that to him.”
“Why?”
“Because I—” She cut her words short, unable to believe that she’d almost admitted to liking Leo. Face reddening again, she finished lamely with, “Because I wouldn’t ever out a friend.”
He seemed to accept that as an answer, and something in his face shifted slightly. She couldn’t tell what it shifted to, only that it was less negative.
“Well, you’ve got your feet in some dangerous waters, girl. What do you think I should do with you?”
Her eyes widened with shock. How in the world did he expect her to answer that? “Um…”
“How about I just let you go on your way?”
Arabelle stared at him in complete astonishment. Surely there was a catch.
“You’ll just let us go?”
“Us? No, no. Leonardo stays here where he belongs. Is that a problem?”
Arabelle’s heart plummeted. “But-But I can’t—”
“Thought so,” the General interrupted, standing up. “Why don’t you return our young friend here to her room, Benjamin.”
Arabelle was blindfolded once again and led from the room. She was confused at the abrupt end to the interrogation, but she was just glad that it was over.
Big Ben let her know that he wasn’t happy with her by bruising her arm in his grip the whole way back. But that was okay. Because she was still alive.
* * *
Leo shook his head groggily, trying to ward off the fog of the tranquilizer. He was pretty sure being sedated this often couldn’t be good for anyone, but he doubted that anyone here would care about that.
Only after he’d shaken his head a second time did his surroundings begin to register. He was sitting up, rather than lying down like he had been when he’d gone under. He tried to move, only to find his wrists and ankles bound to a chair.
He struggled against his bindings for a minute before grimacing and hissing through his teeth as a severe stomach cramp seized him. Through the haze and pain, he looked up and met Sir’s eyes. The man was sitting across from him, in an identical chair.
“Evening,” Sir greeted him. “Are you hungry?”
Leo looked around, refusing to answer. Big Ben wasn’t in the room. But that didn’t leave Sir unarmed, evident by the shotgun resting in his lap.
Sir noticed where Leo’s eyes had gone and patted the gun affectionately. “Just a precaution, as usual.”
Then the memory of Arabelle being alone with Big Ben surged into Leo’s mind, and he felt a cold, sick dread churn his stomach while fear charged his thoughts. “What have you done to her!” he shouted, struggling against his bindings again. “Where’s Arabelle? I swear if you did anything—”
“So Arabelle’s her name, hmm? Don’t worry. She’s unharmed, back in your room.”
Leo searched Sir’s face for the truth—this man who was supposed to be his father—but he was too worked up and miserable with hunger to think logically about anything at the moment. So all he did was growl, baring his fangs, willing it to be true.
“Seems the girl’s taken quite a liking to you,” Sir informed him pleasantly. “One might think she was involved with you romantically. Now wouldn’t that be something? Rather like a beauty and the beast story, isn’t it?”
Leo hated the way that Sir’s eyes gleamed, making the old man look as if he would actually like to study any such relationship.
Leo said nothing, neither proving nor disproving Sir’s speculation. But his silence was taken as a confirmation, regardless, which Sir acknowledged with a strained smile.
“See, that does present a problem, ’cause now I can’t just let the girl—Arabelle—go on her way with some threats to keep her mouth shut. With her silly teenage hormones in play, she won’t just be able to forget that you exist and go on with her life. She’ll try to come back, maybe bring others with her, and we simply can’t risk that.” Sir said these things as if he were discussing the weather.
Leo tried to throw all his body weight against his bindings, attempting to topple the chair, but he soon discovered that the chair had been bolted to the floor, meaning he was wasting energy for nothing.
“Now let’s discuss something more important—” Sir began, but Leo interrupted.
“What are you going to do with her?”
Sir pursed his lips, the only sign that he hadn’t appreciated being cut short. Unlike in the past, though, the old man didn’t just ignore Leo’s question. “We’re not going to do what you must be thinking we’re going to do. Contrary to what your girlfriend believes, I am not a monster. However, until I’m certain that she won’t go straight to the news with the biggest story of a lifetime, she’ll be retained here.”
“With me?”
Sir’s eyes narrowed, and his mustache twitched in irritation. “Unfortunately, this establishment wasn’t built to house…guests, if you will, so your room is the only one equipped to securely keep anyone. Therefore, she will be remaining with you.” Then, Sir suddenly seemed a whole lot more satisfied with that decision as he said, “Let’s just hope an accident doesn’t occur when you’re so hungry you can’t think straight.”
“I would never hurt Arabelle,” Leo growled softly, his voice steady and sure. Even if his hunger killed him, he would never hurt anyone. That he was certain of. It was just absurd.
“You must have been too young to remember, then.”
Leo felt his brow furrow. “I remember when I hurt Ben—”
“No. This was much earlier. An experiment that was performed to test your survival instincts and the digestive capabilities of your stomach enzymes. I believe you were six.”
Leo had to wait a moment to speak, battling to keep his face bare of emotion as the strongest contraction yet gripped his stomach. He couldn’t hide the loud gurgle that sounded from the empty space inside him, though, and Sir smirked knowingly.
Finally, when the pain momentarily subsided, leaving behind only the constant discomfort, Leo said, “Of course you wouldn’t have had any problem testing a six-year-old.”
“Would you like me to help you regain your memories?” Sir offered jovially, his smile cold and mocking.
“No.”
“We chose a hare,” Sir continued, ignoring Leo’s protest. “We left you in the courtyard for three days with no food—only water. We put that hare in there with you and told you it was for company. The first day, you chased the hare for fun. You called it sweet names. You started complaining of feeling hungry, but the hare was still your friend by nightfall.
“The second day, you were doing the usual—moaning and crying—but the hare was still your friend. You drank your water and tried calling for help. You became rather noisy, acting like you were dying. By nightfall, some of my employees wanted to help you. ‘Just bread and cheese,’ they tried to tell me.” Sir gave a small smile, staring intently at Leo as he spoke. Leo tried not to react to the story.
“By the third morning, you had become unusually quiet. We thought maybe you’d become too sick to move. But I let a few more hours pass. By evening, it was obvious you were tracking the hare. Your little head followed its every move. By night—”
“Stop,” Leo said softly, eyes closed.
“By nightfall,” Sir went on, “you suddenly came to life. You stalked that stupid animal like the beast you are and leaped at least eight feet to land on it. The thing screamed like a dying woman, until you crushed its throat with your tiny mouth.”
“Stop,” Leo said again, hating the pleading note that entered his voice.
“You cried the next morning. We came and found you crouched over its bloody remains, sobbing its pet names like you couldn’t believe it was dead.” Sir paused, then ended his story in a carefree voice, “You suffered no illnesses from consuming the raw meat. I considered the experiment a great success.”
“You are a monster,” Leo snarled.
“Let us hope you don’t become one, for Arabelle’s sake,” Sir replied easily, looking satisfied by the horrified expression on Leo’s face. “Now, please, no more interruptions. Who released you?”
Leo said nothing, breathing through his hunger pangs, trying to get the story of the hare out of his head.
“You could end this now, stop the pain. Just tell me who released you.”
“I don’t know.”
“We wouldn’t want Arabelle to end up like your poor little pet, now would we?”
Leo scowled. “I was too young to know any better. I wouldn’t do the same now.”
“You were always bright for your age. I do believe you knew better. Your stomach just knew more than your brain did, apparently.”
“I would never hurt Arabelle,” Leo said, repeating his earlier words with as much strength as he could muster.
“But why risk it? Just tell me who it was who released you, and we’ll treat both you and the girl to a nice steak dinner. What do you say?”
Leo’s stomach rumbled noisily in eager support of that idea, but he tried to ignore his body’s needs as he said, “I told you. I don’t know.”
“Hmm. Assuming you’re not lying, if you didn’t recognize the person, that means it must be one of three people. I’ll take that much for now. We’ll see how much more you remember tomorrow.”
Sir stood. “Oh. One more question for you today.”
Leo waited, eyes narrowed in a glare.
“Did Ben ever shoot at Arabelle?”
Leo wasn’t expecting that question, and he actually gave it thought. He didn’t know whether or not Ben had, but Arabelle must have said something, so Leo answered with a quiet, “Yes.”
Sir nodded. “If I could trust you to follow me willingly, I wouldn’t sedate you, but…”
“No,” Leo rasped quickly, eyes widening at the thought of not being conscious the moment he laid his eyes on Arabelle. “I won’t try anything. I promise. Just take me to Arabelle.”
To his immense relief, Sir believed him, and he led Leo to his room by gunpoint. Leo wouldn’t have tried anything even if his hands hadn’t been bound behind his back. He wouldn’t make his move without Arabelle.