Page 6 of Contempt

What was this deal?

Lucian hadn’t said anything like this was going to happen when the man visited him in the prison. Sure, he hadn’t said this wouldn’t happen, either. In fact, he hadn’t given Renzo a lot of details about this stupid deal. Just his freedom for five years of his life. That was it, that was all. Renzo was starting to think he should have demanded a hell of a lot more info.

“What’s that warning?” Renzo asked, rubbing his raw wrists while he had the chance. They’d cut the broken cuffs off him from the prison after snatching him during a transfer, and they weren’t easy about it by any means. “Is it going to help me?”

The man laughed.

Renzo didn’t even know his name.

Or the others’ names, either.

“This place, New York, is gonna break you.” The man nodded, his smile gone in a blink. “It’s gonna break you—that’s inevitable. You’ll come out better for it, that’s how it works. Just accept it now. Better to learn to enjoy it instead of waste energy hating it. Let it go now.”

Christ.

He’d been told that before. The whole let it go thing. It never did make much of a difference for him. It never helped to get rid of the bitterness and contempt bred deep into his sinew for the shitty hand life had dealt him in some ways. No, he’d never let it go, but he had handled it.

It was basically the same, right?

All too soon, the end of the hallway was right in front of Renzo. He finally realized what that blinking red light was for when the guy who had been walking with him, looked upward, raised a hand, and nodded. Renzo followed his gaze to find the gleam of a lens trained right on them.

A security camera.

Fuck.

What was this place?

Renzo was sure he was going to be asking that question a lot for the next while. Who knew for how long, because he sure as hell didn’t know a thing.

“You’re going to enter this door,” the man beside him said, “and everything is going to change. That’s all I can tell you.”

The white skull design on the man’s bandana hanging loosely around his neck—he was the only one in the team of ten that came for him who pulled his face covering down—lit up a funny purple color under the blacklights.

“Can’t even tell me your name?” Renzo asked.

“Not yet,” the man returned.

A loud ring echoed throughout the hallway. It was distracting enough that Renzo almost wanted to cover his ears. It took his attention away from the guy for just long enough that he didn’t see him pull his bandana back up, never mind the rest of the nine people behind them who quickly closed the distance to come closer.

The door opened.

Renzo turned back around.

It felt, sort of, like he was staring into hell for a second. Like he turned around to see faceless people dressed in all black, their bodies strapped with weapons, and he was the intended target.

“You can fight if you want,” the guy murmured behind his skull bandana. “It’s still gonna happen, New York.”

What would happen?

Renzo didn’t ask that.

He had a different question.

“Where in the hell am I?”

The man’s eyes gleamed—amused, Renzo thought. He looked amused. “The League.”

• • •