Hellhound (Supernatural #1)

24: Prison Break

Captivity, noun.

1. the state or period of being held, imprisoned, enslaved, or confined.
2. Antonym: freedom.

***

With the elevator still on the ground floor, we took the stairs further down into the lion's den. All the way to the lowest floor, which was a ridiculous number of steps. On top of that, every other floor we passed on our way down, 'the werewolves emptied of people'. Devin's words, not mine. But I shot his meaning loud and clear. Everyone who was unfortunate enough to be at work would get slaughtered in the name of supernatural secrecy and a hint of vengeance. By the time we would be done here, the world would know - figuratively, no one could know, obviously - that one did not mess with the supernatural world and live.

Tate stayed with me while we waited, probably to make sure I didn't do anything else as equally stupid as wandering into the villain's open arms. Or, if they trusted I had more than learned my lesson, he stayed in case a minion escaped the werewolves and came straight for the stairs. He was like my own personal bodyguard, I suppose.

Neither of us said much during these moments, but I could sense him looking at me most of the time. I had tried to apologize but he wouldn't hear a word. "We should have sent someone back the second we figured out we were on the right floor. It's only natural that you went out looking for us." He had said the words so casually, so matter-of-factly; it truly did make me believe like it had been no big deal. And, it wasn't really. Bad guys had died, I had survived and the one werewolf who had gotten hurt was already perfectly fine. Like he had never been shot in the first place.

Except, when one of the guys was standing too close behind me, I expected to feel a knife on my back and a hand on my shoulder. But that was a minor detail at the moment.

Finally, we reached the bottom of the stairs, and all I could think of was the number of steps we had to climb back up. It would be no problem for the werewolves; they were soccer players, and could run around after some dumb ball for over an hour without a problem. I doubted Tate would have any more trouble. Little old me, on the other hand, wasn't the fittest person around. There was no way I would even make it halfway back up. And if I wouldn't make it, how would any of those kidnapped supernaturals make it?

"We're using the lift to go back up. We'll send up a group of rescues with a werewolf and regroup on the ground floor. Then, depending on whether Peter has killed those who got away, we'll assess the situation and move from there."

Dean, like the others, had been mostly silent. He had asked me if I was alright but had said very little else. Yet he knew exactly what when to tell me; perhaps mind reading was another power hellhounds had? I felt pretty certain I had wondered about that power before; did that mean they really could read minds? However, if that were the case, it could only be used at very specific moments; half the time my questions went unanswered. Right before they were about to clear the last floor, the power must have kicked in because he told me their plan, right as I had been wondering about it.

Or maybe he had learned from their earlier mistake and decided it was best to keep me in the loop.

Tate stood by the door, ready to pull it open. As he did, Dean went through first. His eyes had not stopped glowing red since we entered the building. It was unnerving so I avoided looking at them as much as possible. The werewolves rushed through after him; I got the feeling that, to them, this was nothing but payback and they enjoyed it immensely. On the one hand, I couldn't blame them. On the other hand, I was shocked at the savageness. I was glad I had only seen the carnage on two floors. The sight must not have improved as we had moved further down. Eventually, Tate closed the door and we waited.