Checkmate: Gifted. Obedient. Deadly. Students by Jaye Pratt

Author:Jaye Pratt [Pratt, Jaye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-01-21T23:00:00+00:00

13

Jolie

The days quickly turn into weeks, and we’re still no closer to knowing why Mr. Z has so many people at the school. My training is going well. I can now confidently say I could shoot and kill someone at least seventy percent of the time. Which is good enough odds for me.

Today I finally get to meet my uncle Ziyon. I’ve been growing impatient wanting to know what his plans are. So far, I have been putting in the hard work getting to know Mr. Z and finding out what his connection is to some secret organisation. There's no chance in hell that I would hand the company over to a man that I have never met, and if he really could take down Mr. Z, why hasn’t he done it yet. There are so many unknowns in this situation, and that doesn’t sit well with me.

Brennan drives us to an underground parking garage in a less than desirable neighbourhood. Apparently Ziyon doesn’t let more than one of the guys into his house at a time and that in itself tells me that he is scared of them.

After weaving through a few rows, he finds an empty spot, and parks. We both exit the car simultaneously, and I smooth down my blouse as we walk to what looks like an elevator. Brennan reaches out, placing his hand on a black box off to the side of the metal doors. A beep rings out in the expansive space as it scans his finger, and the doors slide open. We both step inside, and after another scan of his finger, the elevator jolts, but instead of going up, we start moving down. When the doors finally slide open, the view of an underground tunnel greets my eyes. It’s nothing fancy, just looks like a really large water drain. Our only visibility is from the torch on Brennan’s phone that he turned on the second we stepped out.

“We have to walk from here. It’s about one kilometre, so it shouldn’t take us longer than ten minutes.”

“What a load of shit, Brenny. I dressed up for this. These,” I point to my shoes, even though he can’t see them, “are not walking heels,” I complain.

“I did try to warn you that you should have worn more comfortable shoes.” he says as we continue walking, the click clack of my heels echoing through the tunnel.

“Right.” I mutter and roll my eyes “Then I couldn’t have worn a power suit and looked like I actually have my shit together. First impressions are important.”

We keep moving forward, and I wonder to myself how many of these underground tunnels there are. It makes sense that someone wanting to not be tracked would go underground where there is no service. Unless we have microchips inside of us. If we are viewed as someone’s property, wouldn’t that make sense? Since I was away for years I would have to presume that I’m not or Mr. Z would have brought my ass right back.

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