My hands are still trembling as I turn back to the wall of screens. Doing my best to block out the dead guy dripping blood on the floor beside me, I get to work. I scan my eyes over the various views of the compound, but when I don’t immediately see Hadley, I focus on what I came here to do. I rewind back the security tapes to before we broke in, and copy a strip of the recording, which I then set to play on a loop, so if anyone else in the compound, or remotely, looks at the cameras, they won’t see anything amiss. I double check that the communication systems are down, then nod my head at the guys so they know I’m done. Time to go get our girl.
As we rush out of the room, I notice a map of the compound on the wall beside the door. Lifting my tablet out of my bag, I snap a picture of it, just in case, and hurry after the others. All six of us run toward the interrogation sector, desperation pushing us faster with every step we take.
Hawk reaches the door first. His focus is single-minded as he hurriedly types in the access code and yanks open the door, rushing through it and over to the room Hadley was being kept in last time.
The rest of us are close on his heels. Just like the last time I was in here, it reeks of piss and hopelessness. It’s a suffocating combination that activates my gag reflex, and has me smothering a cough. My heart slams against my chest, worry for what state we’re about to find her in making me jumpy as Hawk once again enters the code at lightning speed. She sounded so broken when Hawk and I found her, and she’s had to endure nearly another week here since then. The second the door unlocks, Hawk is tugging it open and storming into the small room, all of us hot on his trail.
My eyes dart around the drab room, and I feel the others pushing against me as we all try to squeeze into the small space.
“What the—” Hawk’s words drift off as he turns in a circle, as if expecting to find her huddled in a dark corner. “Where the fuck is she?!”
Chapter 4
I’m staring at the dark ceiling above me, trying to figure out how many days have passed since I heard Hawk’s voice through the door, but the days all blend together. Maybe a week? But it could be as little as a few days, or a lot longer.
Hearing the sound of the door being unlocked, I freeze for a second, before quickly hiding my surprise, eyeing the unknown guard warily as he steps into my cell.
“Get up,” he barks out. “I don’t have all day.”
Marcus is too new to be one of Bowen’s trusted guards in charge of me, but he’s been able to sneak in a couple of times. Each time he does, he brings me a pile of food that I’ve mostly devoured, but I have kept a few non-perishable items that I’ve hidden in the dark corners of the cell and rely on for sustenance on the days no one brings me anything to eat. None of the guards come in here unless it’s to take me to see Bowen. They definitely don’t expect me to have gotten anything past them, so they never bother searching the small, dank space I’ve been calling home for however long now.
He hasn’t been able to do anything about the death metal music on the days they decide to sleep-deprive me, so I’m still functioning on next to no sleep, but with food in my belly and hope flaring in my chest, I’m feeling a million times better than I was. I’m not as disorientated or as out of it as I have been, but as I get to my feet, I make my movements seem weak and disjointed as I stumble toward the guard.
I force myself not to pull out of his grip as his meaty palm wraps itself around my bicep, squeezing so hard I can feel his fingers pressing painfully into the bone.
He hauls me out of the cell, and I let him drag me along the hallway. I expect him to take me to Bowen’s special torture room, but instead, he leads me toward the showers and shoves me under the cold spray. The sudden drop in body temperature makes me gasp as my body tenses, and I begin to shiver, even as the guard throws a coarse rag and a bar of cheap soap at me.
“Shower,” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes roam over my naked body. I have almost gotten used to the leering looks from the guards—almost. I do my best to block him out as I scrub the gritty soap over my skin. Sticking my face under the faucet, I tilt my head back and close my eyes, taking a second to just be; to just enjoy the feeling of being clean.
“Today!” the guard barks impatiently when I take too long. Sighing, I quickly finish up and turn the water off. He throws a threadbare towel at me, and I hastily wrap it around my anorexic-looking frame, thankful for the small bit of cover, even if the rough material scratches my skin.
Next, he tosses me a pair of black pants and a top similar to what I wore on the challenge night and open day. As I pull the clothes on, I try to work out why I’m suddenly being gifted them. There is no way it’s time for another challenge night already.
I have barely pulled the top on over my head when he once again grabs my arm and pulls me out of the room. With his tight grip on my upper arm, he escorts me down several empty hallways, and I assume we’re heading toward the fight room, but when he directs me down a corridor I’m all too familiar with; one I’ve been down many times before, my blood turns to ice, and I trip over my feet as sweat trickles down my back.
No, no, no.
That spark of hope I have been feeling the last few days quickly extinguishes. I’m not even in his presence yet and I can feel myself shutting down. Fear wracks my body, making it nearly impossible to breathe, and I begin to hyperventilate.
If I end up back in that room with him, it won’t matter when Hawk and the guys come for me. They’ll be too late.
The guard's grip tightens—if that’s even possible—as my steps falter, desperately trying to delay the inevitable while I wrack my brain for a way out of this. Before I can do anything more than internally freak the fuck out, we approach the door. It looks like every other door in this fucking place. It’s unassuming, and as the guard types in a code, ensuring he covers the keypad with his large frame so I can’t see—not that it matters, they always change the code as soon as I’m in there—the room beyond is just as unimposing. With a small kitchenette, a sofa, television, and a bed, the room is kitted out like some small, self-contained apartment. I have no idea what its purpose is when Lawrence isn’t occupying it, but when he’s here, it’s always this room where we have our fucked up ‘dates’, where he dresses me up like I’m his personal Barbie doll and tells me all about the oppressive future I want no part of. Somehow, I doubt it’s going to be the same song and dance tonight.
The guard shoves me into the room, and I struggle to remain upright. Steadying myself, I spin around as he closes the door behind him and locks me in the room. My breaths come in rapid pants, and my hands tremble. As far as I’m aware, Lawrence hasn’t visited me since he dragged me back here, so if he’s here now, it’s because he thinks they’ve had enough time to break me. Whether he’s here to claim me as his, or discard me once and for all, it doesn’t matter. Neither outcome is in my favor.
Turning in a circle, I struggle to think of an idea. I’ve been in this room enough times to know they never leave anything in it that I can use as a weapon, but desperation has me pulling the kitchen drawers open anyway.