Page 1 of Ravage
Chapter one
Raegan
A short, wide building sits unassuming before me in the dark of night. It’s three stories of worn and chipped brick, with metal-barred windows on the front, and large black numbers over the double doors. The buildings on either side of it are at least eight or nine stories and tower over it, shadowing it almost completely from view on this narrow, dead-end road tucked away on the city outskirts.
If not for the specific address scribbled on the card I’m holding, I’d never have noticed it existed.
It’s the perfect hideout for the shadow organization that I’m hunting.
One that’s also hunting me.
Gifted Enterprise, Inc.
They kidnap people, particularly children, who exhibit powers that should be impossible. They brainwash and then use them for power and control over a society who still has no idea that people with these powers, like me, exist.
They stole me from my grams when I was only eight. In the beginning, they made me believe that I was taken for a special training program so I could one day help save the world. Like some superhero. I was sixteen when I learned that we were being trained to be mindless soldiers to do their dirty work from the shadows. And those who never complied became lab rats attached to tubes and machines until their bodies gave out.
Even though I’ve been free of them for five years, they’ve left me with scars that will never heal.
The card that led me here was in the pocket of one of their men that I’d dispatched in the last city. I’m hoping this is some facility for testing or maybe a drop-off point for the kids they kidnap. So far, it looks like an abandoned apartment building, but Gifted Enterprise has already shown me how deceiving appearances can be.
After stashing my backpack of supplies in the tight alleyway, I grip the gun on my hip and pull it free. I count the entry and exit points around the building. Windows and double doors in the front, windows on the side, a single door, four balconies and windows in the back.
I triple check there’s no one around before sliding through the shadows to the back door. I pull my lock picking kit from my pocket and get to work. It takes longer than usual with the extra locks on it, but finally, the click sounds.
I could always use my gift to break in faster, but the last few times I’ve used it, GE found me within days.
The door creaks and squeals as it opens. Cringing at the loud noise, I leave enough room for me to slip through before closing it behind me.
The space reeks of rotten food and piss, and I immediately switch out the lock picking kit for my gun and flashlight to scan the room and check for squatters. It’s large and open, with a stairwell on the right and a set of entryway doors opposite me. There are mailboxes mounted to the wall on the left, confirming my theory that this was once an apartment building.
The floor is layered with unfinished food, wrappers, an overturned chair, ratty blankets, cans, empty glass bottles, and what looks like a still-wet puddle in the corner.
Gross.
I wrinkle my nose and focus on the path from where I’m standing to the staircase. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a while, aside from that puddle, and it’s the first time I’m forced to consider the possibility that this is a dead end. Why would the GE goon I killed in the last city have this card on him if this place had been abandoned? It makes no sense. Or maybe they’re looking to buy this building and turn it into a testing or storage facility?
I’m grateful I’m wearing thick, army-style boots as I step deliberately through the mess, careful to avoid any food or debris that might stick. The single flight of stairs ends in a narrow hallway with two doors.
The nearest one is a plain, boring nude color with a gold knob. There are no numbers or letters to indicate the individual apartment. I flick my light down the hallway and to the other door, and it’s bare as well.
I clutch my flashlight between my teeth and pull out the lock picking kit again. Pressing my ear to the door to listen for noise, I count to sixty, then insert the tools into the keyhole until it clicks. As soon as the tumblers turn, I swap the kit for my gun and open the door.
My flashlight reveals solid hardwood floors that are clean and polished. The smell of lemons permeates the space as if it was freshly wiped down. There’s a coat rack on a short wall, a boot tray below it, and a small door on the other side that I’m assuming is a coat closet.
The contrast between this and the rest of the building is like night and day.
I cautiously move further inside, closing the door behind me, and the space opens on either side. There’s a cozy living area directly to my left, complete with a full sectional, rug, and entertainment center. Across from it on the back wall is a U-shaped desk stacked with computer monitors. A hallway of closed doors splits the two areas on the left wall. The rest of the open floor plan flows from a dining area to a kitchen with another hallway through it to the right.
Based on the size of the space, this has to be most, if not all, of this side and floor of the building.
I follow the hallway at the end of the living area first, nudging each door and sweeping the flashlight across the rooms for signs of movement. Bedrooms. Spacious ones, with a walk-in closet and private bathroom in each of them, which I check for hidden occupants before I move on.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around what the hell I’ve stumbled into. It went from a homeless hangout to a recently updated, penthouse-style apartment in the span of thirty stairs and an ugly door.
After three bedrooms and a locked door, I make it to the last room at the end of the hallway. Origami in various shapes litter the nightstand next to the bed. I step closer and holster my gun to pick up the one in the shape of a crane.
My chest constricts at the memory of a naïve girl collecting origami animals like this on her shelf from a sweet, quiet boy. Of the first paper crane he ever gave me.
