Chapter 26
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The sub-basement was a cavernous, sprawling space that smelled of damp concrete and ancient dust. It was initially designed as a massive, climate-controlled wine cellar, lined with rows of expensive vintage bottles. But as I moved deeper into the freezing space, guided only by the dim emergency lighting, the architecture brutally shifted.
The wine racks abruptly ended, replaced by a newly constructed wall of solid, reinforced drywall. In the center of this wall was a heavy medical door, the kind used in secure psychiatric facilities, complete with a small, reinforced glass observation window.
"I found the room, Luis," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly as I approached the door.
"You have two minutes left on the camera loop," Luis warned urgently. "Get the boy and get out."
I stepped up to the observation window and peered inside.
The room was painted a sterile, sickening white. There was a narrow hospital bed in the corner, and sitting on the edge of it was a teenage boy. He looked to be about fifteen, but he was painfully thin, his skin a translucent, sickly pale. He was rocking back and forth slowly, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, staring blankly at the floor. He looked completely shattered, a hollow shell of a child whose reality had been chemically and psychologically dismantled.
"Leo," I breathed, tears instantly blurring my vision.
I didn't hesitate. I swiped the cloned keycard against the pad next to the door. It clicked open immediately.
I stepped into the room. The air inside was heavy with the smell of strong antiseptics and unwashed clothes.
"Leo?" I said softly, keeping my voice incredibly gentle so as not to startle him.
The boy stopped rocking. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes struggling to focus on me through the heavy haze of whatever neuroleptics Dr. Thorne had pumped into his system. He looked confused, terrified, and utterly exhausted.
"Are you... an angel?" Leo rasped, his voice completely raw from disuse. "My mom said angels wear blue."
May you like
A sob caught in my throat. I knelt down on the cold linoleum floor so I was directly at his eye level.
"No, sweetheart, I am not an angel," I promised, reaching out to gently touch his trembling hand. "My name is Emma. I am a friend. I know your uncle put you down here, and I know he lied to you. But you are not going to spend another minute in this dark room. I am here to take you home."
