“You got a problem?” he barks.
I flinch, panic rising as the girl’s lifeless limbs sway behind him. I’ve no idea
if she’s dead or alive. I’d hope this man wouldn’t be carrying a fucking dead girl
inside the house, but then again, these assholes would be the type to do something like that.
I shake my head, speechless as he walks toward me. He reeks of body odor,
but that’s to be expected when he looks like he bathes in motor oil.
I’ve never been good at controlling my mouth, but in a house full of rabid men, the last thing I want to do is test my luck. So, I keep silent even as he leers at me.
“You keep your mouth open like that, don’t be surprised when someone sticks
their cock in it.”
My eyes round and my teeth snap shut. The man chuckles from the audible
click.
My heart picks up speed, and I take a few steps back. The fear pumps through
my veins, settling low in my stomach and eating at my insides like acid.
“Jerry, her room is ready. Extra fucking chains this time,” one of the men calls from the table, pointing towards the girl.
My eyes widen impossibly further. Did she escape or something? I have so many questions but know better than to ask any of them. I’m relieved to hear that she’s not dead, at least. Otherwise, chaining up a corpse would be… I shudder from the thought.
The man—or Jerry—shifts the girl on his shoulder and walks off without
another word, aiming one last scathing look my way.
Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I bite hard as I watch him head towards the kitchen. He’s lucky I don’t bark at him like a dog as I’m tempted to.
Anything to make the dickhead think twice about looking at me like that. But that would be stupid, and I cannot be stupid in this place.
The last thing I see right before he disappears is the girl’s head lifting. Dark
brown eyes meet mine through tangled tresses of blonde hair, filled with both fire and ice. The look on her face stops my heart cold, but the creepy smile on her face is what sends it sinking down to the pits of my stomach.
Christ, the look on her face is straight out of a nightmare.
My mouth parts again, but they’re gone before I can register what just
happened. I’m equal parts scared for and of her.
“Don’t worry. If you’re a good little girl and do as you’re told, we’ll keep you
conscious from here on out,” Rio says, pulling my attention back to him.
I’m not sure I want to be conscious.
Furthermore, I’m two seconds away from telling him that the girl needs to be
admitted to the nuthouse.
But I don’t say that out loud, considering we are in a fucking nuthouse.
He nods his head towards the direction Jerry and the girl disappeared off into.
“Let’s go. Francesca and Rocco should be back in a few hours, and she’ll come to meet you. But until then, I’ve been ordered to show you to your new room.”
I glance behind me, staring out the still wide-open door and at the shiny black
van. My brows furrow, expecting it to be damaged from when they ran me off the road. Instead, this one is brand new, not a scratch in sight. They must’ve switched it out at Dr. Garrison's, and that makes my stomach roil.
I know enough about tracking that they would’ve made it incredibly easy for
Zade to find them in a vehicle with a crushed fender.
But then a smile forms on my face with the reminder that Zade is coming, and
he is more than capable of finding me, whether they’re transporting me in a fucking Ferrari or a Volkswagen from the 1980s that farts pollution every time they hit the gas. He’ll find me.
It’s right then, a memory sidelines me, and my smile falls to a dramatic death
as horror takes over.
Just get her in the van, Rio. Max is already going to be pissed we fucked up
his van…
My eyes blow wide, and when I whip back around, Rio is staring at me with
dark eyes, tense and ready to charge at me. My gaze flickers down, noting the gun in his hand.
He probably assumed I was about to make a run for it.
And I can’t say I didn’t briefly consider it, but I’m not dense enough to think
I’d make it more than five feet without one of them catching up to me. Or one of
their bullets.
I’m injured and can barely stand upright, and I’ve no idea where the keys are.
Running right now wouldn’t be wise. And if Zade were here, he’d tell me to bide
my time until the right moment.
Don’t act irrationally.
I can’t let my panic and desperation rule my decisions. Not if I want to get out
of this alive.
Licking my lips, I take a step forward, indicating that I won’t be running.
“Max sent you?”
“You heard that?” He relaxes, unconcerned with my questioning, and jerks his
head towards the kitchen, signaling for me to follow. That kind of makes me want to cry.
Clearing my throat, I force out, “Sure did.”
I fall in step behind him, the urge to cry deepening as I make my way farther
into the belly of the beast. It feels like a bungee cord is strapped around my waist, pulling me back towards the exit, and the longer I walk, the stronger it becomes.
He shoots a look over his shoulder. “Baby girl, I don’t know what you did to
piss that man off, but he has a vendetta against you. You’re plastered all over the
dark web with a fat price on your head. Max hired Rick to bring you in, and since the guy is a complete idioto, he asked me to help. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew where you lived, we wouldn’t have gotten a head start and might’ve had to fight some competition to get to you.”
Any moisture in my mouth dries. There’s a price on my head? What the fuck
for?
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because… well, why the fuck else would I be
here?
The new information distracts me enough to take in my surroundings through
blurred eyeglasses. I cling onto all the insignificant details, like the sagging cabinetry, purring yellow refrigerator, and the endless ocean of brown wood and ugly wallpaper. Now, he’s leading me toward steep wooden steps that creak beneath our weight.
"Does Rick work for the Society?"