Classified || 2 || ✔️ mature

03 | Holland

I fight the urge to close my eyes, tapping a finger against the glass in front of me as it starts to darken.

Blinking, I scan the room next to mine, nausea rolling through my stomach at the empty space. Breathing out, I let my head fall back against the frame of the bed, the pounding headache snapping to the forefront of my mind.

Looking over my shoulder, I look into the room at my other side, Clay pacing the walls back and forth. Feeling my gaze on him, he looks up, his chin dipping in concern.

I shake my head, ignoring the emotions swimming in his eyes and shrug, lifting a hand to tap the wall between Archer and my room again when it darkens.

I look back to Clay when I see him waving from the corner of my eye, titling my head at him and pushing myself from the floor.

'Stop worrying.' I see his mouth move, and he knocks a knuckle against he glass as if the punctuate his statement. 'He'll be fine."

"I know." I reply, wishing I believed the words. I know he's a fighter and I know what he's capable of but I can't help worrying. Curling a hand around my stomach, I glance over Clays face, checking his body for any signs of what they've been doing to him.

If they're doing to him the same thing they're doing to me, to Archer.

I want to ask him is he's seen Cleo, if he knows of her and Liam are okay but I can't find the words.

Finding his eyes again, I make sure he's looking at me before I ask the question.

"Have you seen Cleo?"

Clays brows draw in with confusion before his face clears, eyes darkening with a sadness I understand and he shakes his head, his face suddenly looking too tired, under eyes dark with lack of sleep.

His head whips up, attention behind me and I glance over my shoulder, stepping away from the wall and Clay to face my father where he stands in the hallway, his eyes narrowed and flicking between us.

He lifts a hand and noise comes flooding in, the sounds too loud in such a silent space.

I want to slap the grin on his face off as he sees my reaction to the noise.

"How are you, Holland?"

I narrow my eyes, folding my arms in front of me as I walk closer, standing toe to toe with my father, my eyes not looking away from him.

"What is your plan, Samael?" I lift a brow, "What makes you think you're going to get away with it?"

His laugh is grating on my ears, rough and full of arrogance.

"Because I've done this dance before, Holland."

"With Scarlett?" I tilt my head, "Who else have you ruined?"

His eyes flick past me, no doubt looking at Clay where I guess he is still standing, watching the both of us interact.

His finger stays on the button, letting the noises of the hallway outside my glass cage whisper through the room, the sound of his breathing, the footsteps of another person, the squeak of a door opening and closing.

I can almost see the thoughts forming in his mind, the satisfaction I can see growing in his dark gaze before his mouth opens, the words that spill forth causing a high pitched beep to rush through my head, and I swallow.

"What?"

"Lilac." He repeats her name, "Do you know she is still alive?"

I'd hoped. God, had I hoped.