Unleashed Read Online Free Page A

and focus on my next location: the inside of Newgate Prison, where the girl is awaiting her execution. I reason it’s best to bypass any guards or security checkpoints. Not that I can’t handle myself against a few archaic weapons, but Raze warned me to keep things clean. Minimize my body count.
    I transesse into a long corridor. It’s dark, lit only by torches mounted to the walls. There are no windows. The single guard standing watch jumps in surprise when I appear, trying to make sense of my sudden presence. He looks me up and down, taking in my black hooded robe.
    â€œFather,” he says haltingly. “My apologies for startling you. I didn’t see you enter.”
    I give him a curt nod, choosing not to speak.
    â€œCome to hear the prisoner’s last confession?” he guesses.
    Another nod.
    He snorts as he beckons for me to follow him down the corridor. “Won’t do her much good,” he calls over his shoulder. “She’s beyond even God’s help.”
    We arrive at the end of the hallway and the guard bangs his sword between two of the metal bars, making a horrendous clanging sound. Inside the tiny cell, I see the murky shadow of a person lying on the ground. The form rouses at the sound of the clanging and pushes itself up.
    I suck in a sharp breath.
    This is it.
    After all this time, I’m finally going to see her.
    The loathsome girl who defied Dr. Alixter and betrayed Diotech.
    â€œLast confession,” the guard announces, and I nearly cringe at the edge in his tone. The girl looks pathetic in this cage. She’s so clearly beaten down and disheartened.
    I can hear Dr. Alixter’s voice in my head. “Sera is unlike you and me. She is dangerous … She will say anything she can to turn you against me.”
    I push away the pity I feel and stand up straighter.
    â€œWhat?” The girl rises and turns toward us. Her face is filthy. Skin caked with dirt and tears, hair so dirty, it looks black. The stench of her is toxic. She wipes uselessly at her cheeks, doing nothing more than smearing the grime around.
    Right now, she is not the beauty she was created to be. She is not extraordinary. She is not superhuman. She looks about as broken on the outside as she is on the inside.
    And yet something happens to me in that moment. Something I will never be able to explain no matter how many uploads in advanced vocabulary I receive. It’s as though someone has suddenly siphoned all of the oxygen out of this prison. Out of this country . It’s as though someone has reached inside of me and is stirring my organs with a wooden spoon.
    The sensation quickly becomes too much to bear and I cast my gaze downward. But I can feel her looking at me, studying me. I’m thankful for the hood that shrouds my features. It was donned as a thin veil. Now it feels like armor.
    â€œThe priest has come to hear your last confession and bless your soul,” the guard explains.
    I brave a quick glimpse from under my hood. She is no longer looking at me. She is focused on the guard and his words. She can’t follow them. I don’t blame her. Yesterday I had no comprehension of the words either. Not until Sevan gave me an upload on seventeenth-century society, religion, and language.
    The guard sticks his sword through the slats once more and waves it menacingly at her. I know she could destroy him if she wanted. If she has even half my strength, his sword would be no match for her. But she dutifully retreats to the far back corner of the cell while he fumbles with his key in the large iron lock and slides the door open for me.
    I hesitate for a moment, eyeing the distance between her and me.
    Why am I suddenly afraid to enter this cell? Why am I suddenly afraid of her ?
    I am the strong one. She is the weak one. If she were to try anything, I could have her pinned and yielding in a second.
    Then I realize it’s not a fear of attack that plagues me.