Release In The Dark (DARK erotic romance series) (23 page)

At his words, the crowd mutter
their assent, with only an occasional yell and wail erupting.

The rebel leader begins to read
out the names and crimes of the condemned criminals. Murder,
conspiracy, torture, crimes against humanity, the grisly list rolls
on and on.

Finally, he steps back and names
the first criminal to be executed.

“
Binison Lay, former
Executive Minister of the Unified States.”

The former Executive Minister,
responsible for the barbaric policies that have taken so many young
men and women away from their towns and their homes to be forced into
poisonous mines and the terrible Lantern brothels across the states.

I blink up at the screen and
watch a chubby man with salt and pepper hair being forced to kneel at
a marked spot by rebel soldiers. He is dressed in the bright orange
prison garb of the Justice Prison. He puts up a fierce, formidable
struggle as he is forced to his knees. His hands are shackled behind
his back, but he twists wildly as he shrieks and screams his
innocence.

“
I am innocent! The
soldiers, their Commanders, the Generals—they were the ones who
took all those people! The soldiers dragged those people to the
mines, to the Lantern brothels! Not me! I didn't do it! I am
innocent!” he screams, his pale gray eyes widening into the
camera.

As the former Executive Minister
twists frantically in his shackles, murmurs and movement ripple
through the ocean of sombre, sad faces in the city square.

“
You killed my sons!”
a woman shrieks suddenly from the crowd. “You took all the
young men from our town, and you sent them to the mines, to their
deaths! You can die a thousand deaths, but you can never,
never...make up for what you have done! Go to hell!” She
collapses into heaving sobs, and has to be held up by two young girls
by her side, who are also crying quietly.

The crowd begins to chant,
throwing fists into the air, and baying for his blood.

On the screen, Binison starts to
cry. Big, fat tears roll down his ruddy cheeks, and he wails
noisily, his pleas and words sounding increasingly desperate but
meaningless. As a black hood is placed over his head, he squirms in
his restraints, still feverishly pleading his innocence.

Three rebel soldiers take their
positions behind him, and raise their rifles.

The former Minister continues
shaking his hooded head, still denying his crimes, his involvement,
his guilt. There will be no apology, no remorse from this man.

The soldiers behind him raise
their rifles.

Binison Lay stiffens, as if
sensing that his end is near.

“
They deserve to die!”
his muffled voice cries out. “Every one of you deserve to
die!”

The soldiers start firing.
Bullets tear through his hooded head, and he falls to the ground not
three seconds later. His death has been instantaneous. The soldiers
have aimed their rifles at the back of his head, shooting into his
brain and killing him immediately.

Two medical officers check the
body and pronounce him dead. No cheers and jeers greet the
announcement. Someone tries to clap and call out a taunt and a joke,
but gains no support. The silence is louder and more deafening than
the gunshots that have just executed a remorseless criminal.

The silence stretches across
the square. No one moves. Not a cough or sob or whisper can be
heard.

Binison Lay's body is removed
from the execution spot, and the rebel leader reads out the next
name, the next condemned criminal to be executed.

“
Faylen Day, former
General of the Imperial Army.”

I stare at that hard, bitter
face, and recognize him as one of the Generals who had been present
at the Emperor's Midnight Feast in the Palace. With a gasp, I
recognize General Day as the one who had chosen Owen. He had chosen
Owen to fight the other Slave to the death. He chose Owen, and Owen
chose me. And I was forced to the Empress's chambers that night, and
injected with Dr. Rolin's vile serum in the morning.

I glare up at the screen,
watching the fallen General walk up to the execution spot.
You
don't know what you've done, do you? You've ruined so many people!
Ruined their lives, while you get to die.

My fists tremble at my side as I
watch three soldiers step up behind Faylen Day. My eyes widen when I
scan the soldiers' grim faces. One of them is Jaxon.

Jaxon will be executing General
Day.

I blink slowly as I watch the
players on the screen. General Day ruined Owen. Owen ruined me.

By executing Faylen Day, Jaxon
is avenging both Owen and me.

“
Do it, Jaxon,” I
whisper.

Faylen Day conducts himself with
more dignity than his Executive Minister. Without being shoved, he
kneels on the marked spot with his head held high and his shoulders
back.

Just before he is hooded, he
shouts out, “Long live the Unified States!”

And then the first shot is fired
into the back of his head.

After General Day's body is
removed, the three former Commanders of the Imperial Army are
executed in rapid succession. One by one, their bodies slump to the
ground. The black hoods remain over their heads even after they have
fallen. There is no need for the people to see the contorted
expressions of their oppressors in death.

There is no perverse gloating or
sadistic triumph in seeing these men executed. We are witnessing the
just, humane execution of criminals. Not watching the mindless
murder of innocents.

When the last body has been
removed, the rebel leader steps forward and gives a silent salute,
saluting all the people who have watched the execution in dignified
silence.

The screen goes blank.

After a heartbeat of absolute
stillness, voices and movement ripple through the crowd and gain
momentum. People start to talk, weep, smile, reach out to comfort
one another as they move off. I stand before the screen, squinting
up against the glare of the late morning sun. I start when Lyndea
puts a hand on my arm. “Let's go.”

I open my mouth and shut it
again. This is not the end, I want to say. But I can't bring myself
to say it to her. Spoken aloud, it's going to sound ridiculous to
her ears, and mine. Somehow I can sense it. The feeling is too
strong to ignore. This has not ended. Not yet.

I glance back at the large
screen, and at Lyndea. For the first time, I notice that her eyes
are mismatched, and her irises extraordinarily large. Her right eye
is sapphire blue, but her left eye is more green than blue. I stare
into those large, brilliant eyes, my frown deepening as images swirl
through my mind. Where have I seen eyes like these before? Wide,
large irises of different colors.

Slowly, I stare down her body.
Her brown rebel fatigues sit loosely on her bony frame. Physically,
she is thin and small, but she holds herself with the poise and pride
of a fighter, so she looks bigger and taller. Even though her arms
are thin, the strength and power in them is unmistakable. Her veins
bulge as she grips her gun at her side, and her whole body thrums
with purpose and power.

I look up into her mismatched
eyes to see them narrowing in concern and suspicion.

“
I...I think...” I
gulp. “I know you. I know who you are.”

She arches one thin eyebrow at
me. “Do you now?”

“
Y-yes. You're...”

Before I can complete my
sentence, the speaker buzzes loudly, stopping the dispersing crowd in
their tracks. Gasps and cries can be heard as a faint image starts
to flash across the entire screen.

The image snaps into sharp
focus, and everyone freezes.

I stare up at that wounded,
scarred face on the screen. “Owen!”

Owen's green eyes stare down at
the screen, the image jerking and moving. As I watch his movements,
I realize that he is transmitting the video through his watch, and he
is now trying to remove the watch from his wrist. He grimaces into
the screen, either in pain or in frustration.

He holds his watch up away from
himself, so that his face and his Commander's stripes on his black
uniform are clearly projected onto the screen. I see dark stains on
his uniform, blood stains. Is that his blood, or the blood of those
he has just killed?

“
I know that you're
executing the former Minister, General and Commanders today. You've
executed those war criminals, but you've let the biggest, baddest
criminal of all escape,” Owen smirks into the screen. His
voice is hoarse and rough, like he has been screaming for the longest
time. The camera tilts sideways before he rights it and starts to
back away from the screen. He has placed his watch somewhere in
front of him, and is moving slowly backwards, keeping himself half in
sight.

There is the sound of a violent
scuffle as Owen grabs someone from the side. His dirty combat boots
come into view, and as he steps forward, there is a glimpse of
something, someone moving behind him. His fist is closed around a
black-sleeved arm. Owen grunts and yanks the person towards the
camera. I see the tumble of jet black hair, and a set of wide, dark
eyes. The red lips are curled, not in a smile, but a sneer.
“You—are still a Slave. You'll always be a Slave!”
she screeches at Owen.

“
Your Majesty, would you
like to address your people?” Owen tells her calmly. “They
are watching you right now.”

With that, he shoves her face
right in front of the camera.

There is a collective gasp as
the Empress's dark eyes blaze on the screen. Her face is pushed
forward even closer to the camera so that only one evil eye stares
down at us from the screen.

Owen drags her back, and we see
him handcuff her to a rusty pole in front of the camera. “Would
you like to say a few last words to your people, Your Majesty?”
Owen asks, ignoring her shrieks and curses.

“
Owen Vesparr, I made you
a Commander! You are my Slave! I own you! You're my pet!”
the Empress screams. She is dressed in the black uniform of the
Imperial Army, disguised as a soldier. Her black hair is disheveled
and matted with dirt and blood. But even on the run, in hiding, her
face is garishly made up. Her eyes are lined, with blue and orange
eyeshadow over her eyelids. Her crimson lipstick is smeared, with
red lines spreading across her cheeks and chin. There is a silver
chain around her neck, and Owen yanks the chain out of her collar.

A small diamond vial hangs at
the end of the chain.

Gripping the vial in his hand,
Owen laughs bitterly in the Empress's face. “You still have
this with you. You've used this on dead men, to satisfy yourself.”
He drops the vial in disgust, letting it hang ponderously on the
front of her heaving bosom. “Keep it. You'll need it—since
you'll be joining them soon.”

The Empress twists frenziedly,
her white face contorting into a writhing mess of smeared colors.
“You became a Commander through my favor! I made you!”
she shrieks.

Owen draws his gun silently and
steps away from her.

Raising his gun, he says in a
tight voice, “You used me. And you destroyed me, Your
Majesty.” The gun trembles slightly in his scarred,
blood-stained hand. “If only...” His voice wavers and he
closes his eyes briefly.

“
If only?” The
Empress lets out a high-pitched laugh. “If only what, Slave?
What are you regretting? What are you coveting, Slave? Oh.”
An ugly smile spreads across her face as her eyes glitter
maliciously. “Oh, I see. You wish you could have that young
Siren. The one you chose to take to my chambers with you, so you
could use her, to satisfy me. You want her, don't you?”

Owen's eyes fly open, and his
knuckles gleam white in the shadows. “You destroyed us,”
he says at last. “I could have had her! She's mine! If
only...”

She laughs long and loud, her
harsh laughter blaring from the speakers to pierce the stunned
silence in the city square. All eyes are on the screen, even as
rebel leaders scramble to track the location of the transmission.
Lyndea remains by my side, but she is furiously sending and receiving
communications on her watch, hissing commands and questions into her
watch.

I look up at the scene unfolding
unstoppably on the screen. Can the rebel leaders reach them in time?
Before...before—there is only one way it can end.

The Empress stops laughing and
stares into the camera.

“
Hunt this Slave down! He
has killed your Emperor, and your Empress! Hunt him down, and
torture him to death!” She turns to face him. “You can
never escape, Owen.” She smiles, baring her bloodied teeth.
“You are my Slave. You can never have her. You...”

Owen looks straight into the
Empress's eyes, and squeezes the trigger.

Her body slides down the pole,
with a hole in the middle of her white forehead. Her eyes remain
open, still staring into the camera.