Unravel Me: The Juliette Chronicles Book 2

all powered by supplies and electricity stolen from secret storage units belonging to The Reestablishment. This space is invaluable. Castle told us once that it took him at least a decade to design it, and a decade more to get the work done. By then he’d also managed to recruit all of the other members of this underground world. I can understand why he’s so relentless about security down here, why he’s not willing to let anything happen to it. I don’t think I would either.
    Kenji stops.
    We reach what looks like a dead end—what could be the very end of Omega Point.
    Kenji pulls out a key card I didn’t know he was hiding, and his hand fumbles for a panel buried in the stone. He slides the panel open. Does something I can’t see. Swipes the key card. Hits a switch.
    The entire wall rumbles to life.
    The pieces are coming apart, shifting out of place until they reveal a hole big enough for our bodies to clamber through. Kenji motions for me to follow his lead and I scramble through the entryway, glancing back to watch the wall close up behind me.
    My feet hit the ground on the other side.
    It’s like a cave. Massive, wide, separated into 3 longitudinal sections. The middle section is the most narrow and serves as a walkway; square glass rooms fit with slim glass doors make up the left and right sections. Each clear wall acts as a partition to rooms on either side—everything is see-through. There’s an electric aura engulfing the entire space; each cube is bright with white light and blinking machinery; sharp and dull hums of energy pulse through the vast dimensions.
    There are at least 20 rooms down here.
    10 on either side, all of them unobstructed from view. I recognize a number of faces from the dining hall down here, some of them strapped to machines, needles stuck in their bodies, monitors beeping about some kind of information I can’t understand. Doors slide open and closed open and closed open and closed; words and whispers and footsteps, hand gestures and half-formed thoughts collect in the air.
    This.
    This is where everything happens.
    Castle told me 2 weeks ago—the day after I arrived— that he had a pretty good idea why we are the way we are. He said that they’d been doing research for years.
    Research.
    I see figures running, gasping on what resemble inordinately fast treadmills. I see a woman reloading a gun in a room bursting with weapons and I see a man holding something that emits a bright blue flame. I see a person standing in a chamber full of nothing but water and there are ropes stacked high and strung across the ceiling and all kinds of liquids, chemicals, contraptions I can’t name and my brain won’t stop screaming and my lungs keep catching fire and it’s too much too much too much too much
    Too many machines, too many lights, too many people in too many rooms taking notes, talking amongst themselves, glancing at the clocks every few seconds and I’m stumbling forward, looking too closely and not closely enough and then I hear it. I try so hard not to but it’s barely contained behind these thick glass walls and there it is again.
    The low, guttural sound of human agony.
    It hits me right in the face. Punches me right in the stomach. Realization jumps on my back and explodes in my skin and rakes its fingernails down my neck and I’m choking on impossibility.
    Adam.
    I see him. He’s already here, in one of the glass rooms. Shirtless. Strapped down to a gurney, arms and legs clamped in place, wires from a nearby machine taped to his temples, his forehead, just below his collarbone. His eyes are pressed shut, his fists are clenched, his jaw is tight, his face too taut from the effort not to scream.
    I don’t understand what they’re doing to him.
    I don’t know what’s happening I don’t understand why it’s happening or why he needs a machine or why it keeps blinking or beeping and I can’t seem to move or breathe and I’m trying to remember my voice, my hands, my head, and my feet and then he
    jerks.
    He convulses against the stays, strains against the pain until his fists are pounding the padding of the gurney and I hear him cry out in anguish and for a moment the world stops, everything slows down, sounds are strangled, colors look smeared and the floor seems set on its side and I think wow, I think I’m actually going to die.
    I’m going to drop dead or I’m going to kill the person responsible for this.
    It’s one or the other.
    That’s when I see