Before I can respond, the corridor suddenly fills with bright lights.
“Oh, shit.” Aerin’s words are barely a whisper, and I follow her eyes down the hallway.
“Who the fuck are you?” a loud, deep voice shouts from the distance.
A hundred feet down the corridor, right near the junction that leads to our room, stand three men in uniform. I recognize the insignia on their chests even from this distance—a diamond with a scripted P in the center—as the one used for the government security force. Though they’re supposed to be used by all branches of government, I know them mostly by their loyalty to my father. Similar men dragged me from my father’s home and shoved me into Havens, the government-sponsored prison for the criminally insane.
The man in the center raises a gun and points it at us. The plastic bullets inside aren’t usually lethal, but they pack a hell of a punch.
“Get on the ground!” he yells as the other two men step forward with batons clutched in their fists.
“Stay behind me,” I say softly as step in front of Aerin.
She replies, but I don’t listen to her words. All my focus is on the men in front of me as I reach for my belt. I spread my arms out to my sides, brandishing the sleek silver knives.
“Holy shit,” one guard says. “That’s Theodore LaGrange.”
“Are you serious?”
“Without a doubt,” he replies. “I was one of his arresting officers. Don’t shoot, Becker. We may need him.”
I stare at the man who spoke my name, trying to focus on distinguishing features, but I don’t recognize him. The night of my arrest is unclear, and I don’t recall the faces of the men who dragged me out, but I also have no reason to doubt him.
“Theo,” he says as he steps forward, “I’m Officer Ford. Do you remember me? Why don’t you put those down so we can talk?”
Though the name strikes a chord in my head, I glare wordlessly, adjusting my grip on the knives as I continue to stare him down.
Ford continues to tell me to drop the knives as he takes a few steps toward me, baton still gripped in his hand. Becker holsters his gun before he and the other guard move up behind Ford in close formation, all of them wielding batons.
A cold, clear calm comes over me, and I flex my fingers around the handles of the knives, breathing slowly.
“Get back,” I say as I feel Aerin move up behind me.
“Talen…” She says nothing else, and I hear the shuffling of her feet as she backs away.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Theo.” Ford stares at me intently.
It does. He knows it does. I can see it in his eyes.
Ford takes another step forward. I watch his knuckles whiten as he grips the baton more securely, preparing to use it. I clear my mind of everything except the movements of those in front of me.
They move with slight irregularity, telling me that they don’t normally work together. The two guards behind Ford switch sides, unsure of the best position for an attack. As they switch, Ford strikes.
He moves quickly, holding his baton high above his head, but I easily dodge to one side as he attempts to bring it down on my head. I twist away from him again, encouraging him to move close to me. When he does, I bury a knife in his side.
Ford groans and drops the baton as he grabs for his side.
Without missing a beat, I spin around and go after Becker. He also swings his baton at me over and over again as I parry, ducking one way and then sidestepping the next. I cut his arm, but he continues his attack, striking my shoulder hard enough that I nearly lose my grip on the knife’s handle. I spin and bring my foot up to connect with his chest, and he stumbles, dropping his weapon.
The third guard lunges forward, reaching out to grapple with me, but I step back and bring a knife down into his neck. Warm blood covers my arm as he falls to his knees and then on his face.
I focus on Becker as he starts to move in a slow circle around me. He pauses and glances to my right. I see Ford regaining his feet and rushing at me.
Turning quickly, I strike Ford in the face with the butt end of the knife. I stumble slightly, and Ford reels backward, arms flailing. As I regain my footing, Ford turns and races down the corridor and out of sight. I start to pursue, but I hear a scream behind me.
I turn quickly and see Aerin in Becker’s clutches. The burly guard places the gun at the side of her head and stares me down.
“Drop those fucking knives right now,” Becker says, “or I shoot. The bullet may be plastic, but at this range, I’m pretty sure it’s going to go right into her brain.”