The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One by V. Timlin (speed reading book .TXT) 📕

Anouk drew a shaky breath and plastered a quivering smile on her face. “Got it.”

Fitzwil checked his pocket watch. The clock face glowed a faint green, allowing Anouk to see the position of the hands. She felt her nerves consume her.

“Ten minutes.” Fitzwil slipped the watch back into his vest pocket. “Are you ready, Anouk?”

She nodded, too scared to speak. Her mouth was dry and her whole body shook; she had never been this frightened in her life. No, perhaps when Stalo attacked her in her apartment, she’d been even more scared.

Fitzwil and Vari were experienced fighters. They might think that with their support Anouk could take down the thugs, but she was far from convinced. These men knew more than she did. Besides, they had kidnapped Nat. That, if anything, said something about their abilities.

Her throat tightened. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Fixing her emerald eyes on Anouk, Vari took her hand and squeezed it. “You’ll do just fine. We’ll cover you.”

Anouk drew a deep breath. She had to try at least. If she ran now, she would let them all down at the worst possible moment. Nat was her friend and partner. Besides, he had saved her from Stalo back in her world, so it was time to return the favour.

“Alright. Let’s get Nat.”

She backed away from the edge of the roof and headed to the ladders. After checking the alley, she descended and tiptoed a couple more buildings away from the warehouse where Vari and Fitzwil were keeping watch. She popped out onto the quay and walked towards Ibars, all the while keeping her steps soft.

Electric lamps illuminated the foot of their poles and the stone paving. The waves of a black sea sloshed against the rocks at the quayside. Normally a calming sound, it had no such effect on Anouk’s panicking mind. Her skin prickled as if being watched. She shot glances around, but saw no evil red eyes glowing in the shadows.

In the distance, a bell started striking the hour. Anouk jumped as its first hollow bong echoed across the harbour. She stopped and counted the strokes. Her anxiety level reached a new high with every one of them—twelve.

“Okay, this is it,” Anouk muttered as she willed her feet to speed up. She couldn’t see anyone about, but her skin persisted to tingle as she advanced towards the rendezvous point.

Ibars came into view. The two men she had spied from the roof had disappeared, and the warehouse appeared deserted. Anouk approached the door with all her senses alert. She suppressed the urge to look up to the next building where she had been a few minutes earlier. If she was being watched—and she was sure she was—she couldn’t give any reason for whoever was keeping an eye on her to think she wasn’t alone… they would all be dead, if she did. She placed her hand on the latch and took another deep breath.

She tried the door—it creaked open. The overpowering desire to flee swept over her, but she hung on to the latch, forcing herself to stay. Fighting against the screaming red alert in her mind, she gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt.

Before her self-preservation instinct could kick in again at full throttle, she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was sneaking up on her and then peeked into the dark interior. “Nat? Nat, are you in there?”

Only the echo of her shaky call came back. She pushed the door wide open but didn’t step in. The stale smell of wood, mould and tobacco invaded her senses.

“Nat?”

No reply. She stepped through the doorway, straining her eyes and ears. The silence inside was… too silent. The hairs on her whole body stood up and the prickling of her skin intensified. Her hand moved up to grab the sword, but she stopped herself. She needed to act as if not suspecting a thing. Brushing the hilt as a talisman, she started to walk. The sounds of her boots bounced off the walls like thunder, making her wince.

As her eyesight adapted to the darkness, she noticed a faint glow at the floor level ahead of her. She squinted. A trapdoor?

The door behind her shut with a bang, causing her to jump and yelp. Light filled her vision as if a hood had been pulled from her face. After the darkness, her eyes took a few moments to adjust. The source of the glow turned out to be four kerosene lamps, the light from which revealed four men holding batons and surrounding her on every side. Two of the men were the ones she had seen earlier, smoking and talking outside the building.

A quick scan around revealed she had advanced almost two-thirds of the distance from the door. The warehouse was empty, save for litter scattered on the floor and a few crates propped against the brick walls. About ten yards in front of her was a smaller door. An office?

The men glowered at her, menacingly patting the batons against their palms—soft meaty thuds replaced the earlier silence. It was meant to intimidate her, but for some reason, and although her heart was trying to break through her ribcage, she found the gesture somewhat comical. The men had guns, but they were holstered. They weren’t there to kill her, at least not right away.

Anouk lifted her chin, mustering as much courage as she could. “I came to see Nat Walla.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

Smirks appeared on the men’s faces.

“Sure, love. He’s here,” said the man standing closest to the office door. He reached for the knob and pulled the door open, revealing Nat, sitting on a chair, with his hands and ankles bound. Next to him stood a man, pointing a gun at Nat’s temple. Nat wasn’t gagged, but bruises and blood on his face told the tale of a beating. A gasp escaped Anouk’s lips.

“Good evening, Miss Herring. I am sorry to drag you here in the