The Meeting

Chapter 25 - The only way

I jolt awake as the door opens to the room and the large man from before comes back. He unties my hands, gives me some crutches and then motions for me to follow him without even a word. I follow him, struggling with the crutches as I’ve never used any before, and he leads me back down the hallway, the way we came.

I’m clumsy and accidentally bump his feet with the end of the crutches, but I feel no remorse, even after he glares at me with narrowed eyes. I shrug at him and continue on my clumsy journey, somewhat slowly. He sighs deeply in annoyance as he waits for me to catch up.

After what feels like a mile of walking, even though it was probably only 100 meters, we reach a silver door, which slides open to reveal an elevator. I hobble inside and lean against the hand rail, grateful for the rest. The elevator rumbles into movement. Are we going down? Up? I can’t tell, but it seems like a long ride.

The elevator stops with a ping and the doors slide open to reveal a small, dark, damp room with no light. The man steps out into the darkness and I follow him slowly, unsure of where I’m stepping.

My eyes adjust rapidly to the new lighting conditions and I can’t see any door to exit apart from the elevator we just stepped out of.

“What the hell is this?” I ask angrily. “Another place I’m going to be locked up?”

He only gives a small chuckle in response, adding to my annoyance of the whole situation. I scowl at him as he walks over to the far wall. He feels across the stone wall, pieces crumbling off and falling to the floor, and pushes something that seems to be a button.

The whole wall shakes and swings open, flooding the small room with light and forcing my eyes to adjust yet again. I shield my eyes as I step across the threshold into a large entrance way.

If I had to guess, I would say that it looks like we’re in a mansion. I look around and see a grand staircase twisting up to the second floor. The handrail is made of wrought iron and is twisted into an intricate pattern of twigs and flowers. My breath catches in my throat as I see the floor is tiled marble. I move forward, following my ‘companion’, and realize it’s definitely not the best to walk on. The crutches slide on the smooth floor and I almost slip and fall, but the man holds onto my upper arm, saving me from an embarrassing nosedive.

He takes me over to a large wooden door, which he opens and motions for me to enter. As I hobble through, I see a long table, surrounded by approximately 10 people, all looking at me with blank expressions, some with scowls, perhaps angry at waiting for me to arrive. A man wearing a suit pulls a chair out for me and I sit clumsily. I feel a hand instantly run up my good leg and squeeze my knee. I turn to slap the offender, but see it’s Damien, who gives me a small smile. I see his face looks extremely pale and he has dark shadows under his arm.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to me.

Someone clears their throat and I look up to see Miranda coming in to the room with a glass of a sparkling liquid in her hand. My only guess is that it’s champagne, but I would prefer something a lot stronger right now.

“Good morning everyone,” she says cheerily, sitting on the ornate chair at the head of the table. Morning? Last I knew, it was the afternoon, so I must have been locked up a lot longer than I thought.

“So, I’ve called everyone here for a pre-mission meeting. Everyone should know their parts by now, except our new additions, who are making all of this possible. Everybody, please welcome Damien and his whore, Zoe.”

I clench my fists in my lap and a few turn to sneer at me. Damien squeezes my leg in reassurance and swallow the hard lump that’s formed in my throat, trying my best to ignore the others at the table.