Eighteen Again: The CEO's Wife was a Delinquent

The cell door clicks, not giving enough time for Damien to collect his thoughts. 

"Have fun with your new cellmate, snobby rich brat!"

The guard shoves his said cellmate inside and shuts the door in her wake. He sits there dumbly, too astonished to do anything. She's withering on the floor, curling in on herself, though her tremors stop after a while, and her breathing begins to even.

Damien recognizes Aira then. 

"Oh, hey there, Damien," she greeted calmly. 

"What the hell?! Aira?!" he exclaimed, shell-shocked.

"I'm glad to see you're fine enough to shout like that-"

"Aira!"

Elated to see Aira again after a long while, Damien throws his arms around her and pulls her in a bone-crushing embrace.

Only then did she realize that she's the one who should be doing that. She's so relieved to see him that she would've not resisted to hug him as soon as she saw him. Instead of regretting not embracing him first, though, she just decided to tighten her hold around him.

"I'm glad you're safe, Damien. It'll be okay now. I promise," she reassured him, earning his confusion. 

Sadly, there's not much time for them to savor their reunion.

As soon as he pulls away, she stares intently at the scrunchie wrapped around her wrist. She starts fiddling with it before pulling the threads apart to reveal a device inside. There are five empty number slots displayed on the screen. 

Damien regards her in puzzlement. Aira simply smiles at him and says, "We're gonna escape."

Seventeen minutes. 

What he had thought to be five number slots on her device are actually indicators of time - hours, minutes, and seconds. The monitor is small and does nothing much but display those numbers. On the side, it blinks once every second, and according to her, it's actually a transmitter.

What it's transmitting - Damien is not entirely sure.

For the next hours or so, Aira has been keeping the device close to her, monitoring it at all times. She says she's waiting for a signal, but every time he sneaks a peek, the screen always displays the same numbers.

The number seventeen has yet to change.

"It means how much time we have to escape, Damien. It is connected to another gadget, hence the transmitter, and sometime soon, our allies on the outside will activate the timer. Once the numbers start counting down, that's when we'll have to act," was what she explained to him when he asked what was the purpose of the device. 

The facility they're in apparently has a self-destruct feature that'll be activated at the same time the timer begins. As soon as they get out, the facility will collapse on itself and everything inside - their files, tools, and everything else will be destroyed.

"Why seventeen minutes, though...?" Damien asked.

"Why can't we just connect that device to the self-destruct feature and activate it once we get out?"

"Because..." Aira answered.

"Their technology doesn't work that way. The self-destruct mechanism has to be activated manually. The only reason it's there is to protect their files if ever. Should the organization be compromised, the police won't get their hands on any incriminating evidence."

"So, why seventeen minutes?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm guessing it means there are two minutes to tip us off. That's more than enough time for us to bust out of this cell. After two minutes, I think the self-destruct system will be activated."

She paused then, mulling over the thought. He waits for her to elaborate it more. 

"Yeah. Sir Adrian was hoping to activate it. The longest timer setting it has is probably fifteen minutes – that's how long it is usually. That leaves us fifteen minutes to escape," Aira further explained.

"Again, why can't we just activate the self-destruct feature once we get out?" Damien inquired, frowning.

"Cause they can still follow us when we get out! Plus, someone will still be inside by then, and they'll be putting themselves in danger by staying too long. No. We can make our escape with all the other captives once the timer starts, and by the time we get everyone out, this place has been burnt to a crisp."

"What about all the evidence? We might escape, but we won't be able to put them in jail without proof."

"That's why Sir Adrian infiltrated this place days after they brought you in. He copied files off their system. We just have to wait for his call."

"If Uncle had already gone in, why didn't he try to get me out?"

"Are you crazy? He wouldn't have been able to even if he tried. Also, there are other things going on. If there's one thing I've learned from Sir Adrian, it's that he always waits for the right time to act. Getting you out too early probably wouldn't have done anything to keep you and him safe."

Damien's frown deepens. Something has changed about Aira. It's also strange how she talks about Adrian. 

She seems kind of sad. 

"Why do you have to be thrown here with me, Aira?"

"Another part of the plan that only the others can explain to you properly."

"You obeyed even though you're not sure why you have to do this?"

"I trust Sir Adrian and the others, and I want to help however I can - even if that means getting dragged here like an object."

That has been the end of the discussion. 

Damien's stomach rumbles for the nth time that day. He rolls over to the side where he doesn't have to look at Aira.

She passed him the mandatory tray of moldy bread and age-old water that're sitting unattended at the corner. 

"Not hungry," he groaned even though he was very, very hungry.

---

"Hey, runts! Get out!"

Damien recognizes the voice as that of his handler - Evelyn.

She's scowling at them as if they're dirt. Aira casts a meaningful glance between him and the device around her wrist. She then tucks it into her pocket.

The cell door slides open, and they crawl out.

The lights come to view as Evelyn pulls Damien to his feet. Aira follows shortly after. She sneers at them and points the gun at their backs.

"Move along," Evelyn ordered harshly, pushing both of them forward.

Feeling bold, Damien turns and asks where they are going. Evelyn smirks at his question.

"Out..." she said, her tone clipped.

"You kids are getting shipped."

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