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Two Can Keep a Secret If One of You Is Dead-Chapter 5
Damien and his guards exited the room, locking it behind them.
Nate held his ribs and scooted over to Eliot’s side. “Eliot? Eliot, can you hear me?”
Eliot lay impossibly still on the mattress. Nate pushed a lock of hair off Eliot’s face. Bruises colored his eye and cheekbone; the skin around the split on his lip. “God, Eliot...” He rolled him over onto his back.
While a groan of pain can be unsettling, Nate had to believe it would be better than the silence that met him. “Eliot...” He gripped the hitter’s hand and tapped his cheek with his free hand. “I’m here. It’s me, Nate. Eliot?”
Eliot didn’t stir. “A blink or something would be nice, you know? A growl?”
Nate failed to hold in a sigh. Seeing Eliot in such a deep...sleep? Was it still sleep if you’re drugged and beaten, and God knows what else? Whatever you called it, the lack of activity from the hitter was surreal.
It looked as if Eliot would be out for a while, so Nate took the opportunity to survey their prison. No windows, no way out of the door that he could see. Solid, concrete walls prevented any weak areas to break through. One door. It reminded him of...of course!...the tombs on San Lorenzo. The smug bastard intended to make Eliot experience the same environment he had.
Nate’s stomach lurched as he passed the chair in the center of the room. Traces of blood marred the arms of the chair and the floor around it. Knowing it was Eliot’s blood made things worse. He couldn’t dwell on that now. There would be time to work through that later.
He needed a plan to get out of there. How that was going to happen with his main component for any escape plan was out of commission; that was another story.
.
.
.
Eliot heard a different voice. He should make sure who was in the room with him. But his eyelids were too heavy to open.
He slowly became aware of not being tied to the chair. A thin mattress supplied a small amount of protection from the cement floor.
Shuffling sounds echoed throughout the room. Rats too. Perfect. He cracked his eyes open to make sure the rodents weren’t too close to him.
A cough rattled his lungs. It felt like the top of his head was coming off. Every sound in the room was amplified many times over due to its emptiness. “Fuck,” he rasped. This was pure hell.
“Eliot?”
A man’s voice sounded unsure in the quiet. Footsteps crossed the room and a figure crouched beside him. A hand reached toward him. Eliot couldn’t handle more pain right now. Not yet. He needed more time. A longer reprieve. His hands fumbled against the mattress as he tried to push himself away. “N...no...”
“Eliot, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s Nate. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you hear me?”
His hands wouldn’t work right. The pins and needles bordered on excruciating. “Don’ touch me. D...Damien won’t l...like it.”
Silence. Eliot huddled against the wall. Clamped his eyes shut. At least they didn’t hurt him.
“Eliot...what...”
Eliot forced his eyes open and blinked. “Wha’? Nate?”
“Yeah. It’s me. What...what, uh, were you talking about there? Damien won’t like what?”
Nate stared at him with the analyzing gaze of a mastermind. Eliot broke eye contact to look at his wrists. They were raw and bleeding. No wonder his hands wouldn’t work like they were supposed to. He looked back at Nate. “Did you...cut me loose?”
His hope was squashed when Nate shook his head. “No. Damien.”
“Damien did,” he whispered. He lowered his eyes. He couldn’t look at Nate. Why? Why didn’t he help him? Why was Damien the one?
“Eliot, what did he give you?” Nate tried to establish eye contact again. “Look at me.”
Eliot peeked up at Nate through the curtain of his hair. “Some...somethin’. A drug that I...that...” Shame heated his cheeks. If the team knew everything about him...
“He mentioned some of the effects of it. Looks like it’s doing a job on you.”
“He knows me. Knows me probably better than anybody.” Hot tears filled his eyes. “Everyone else...is gone.” His grip on consciousness faltered. He was tired. Too tired to fight anymore.
“Listen to me. Everyone isn’t gone, Eliot. You’re not whatever it is he’s telling you. You aren’t a bad person. He’s the one doing all this to you. The torture. The drug. It’s Damien. Not you.”
Eliot lay on the mattress again and closed his eyes. “He’s using...using my techniques, Mastermind. Symbiosis at its best.”