Leave evidence.
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I slowly grip stands of my hair and tug until they break free. The sharp pinpricks are inconsequential compared to the rest of my body.
I keep my movements minimal and slow. With the blindfold on, I’ve no idea
if they can see me well. One movement out of the corner of their eye can alert
them.
I wiggle my fingers until the strands loosen and fall away.
Just as I’m reaching for more hair, they hit a particular brutal bump in the road, and I can’t keep the yelp from slipping free.
The pair hadn’t been talking at that moment, but it felt like a crowded room
just went deathly silent in a matter of seconds.
“Welcome to the land of the living, sweetheart,” one of the men croons. It’s
the first guy who had referred to me as a diamond.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, my voice raspy and hoarse.
“To your new home—well, temporary home,” he corrects. “Whoever pays the
most will provide you with your forever home.” He chuckles as if I’m a dog about to be adopted into a loving family.
“Great,” I croak. “Sounds like I’ve hit the jackpot.”
One of them laughs humorlessly, but it sounds like Rio this time. “Hold on tight to that humor, baby girl. You’re going to need it for where you’re going.”
Before I can open my mouth to respond, I feel a prick in my arm, followed by
a burning sensation spreading throughout my veins.
I suck in a sharp breath. And it happens to be the last breath I take before darkness descends.
“Her vitals are unstable, and her blood pressure is dropping. We need to get
her an IV.”
I stir; the unfamiliar voice distorted beneath the ringing in my ears.
Agony blazes in every inch of my body, but it feels like I’m underwater, fighting to get to the surface yet kicking away from it because I just know the pain will only intensify. I’m encased in a shroud of fire, flames licking at my nerve endings, and the closer I get to consciousness, the brighter the flare.
There’s a tiny prick in my arm, followed by muffled voices coming from
different directions.
“Dislocated shoulder, head trauma, lacerations throughout her body.” The
man’s voice fades out before cutting back in, a harsh shout that travels up my spine.
“Goddammit, Rio, this isn’t a fucking hospital where I have the equipment I
need. She could have internal bleeding right now, for all I know.”
“Come on, man, she was fine just a bit ago,” another answers, a note of concern in his tone. Rio’s companion, I think.
“Fine? I have no way of knowing what kind of damage she took. It’s evident
she hit her head. She could be hemorrhaging and potentially die in seconds. You
gonna find me a CT scanner?” When he’s met with silence, a muttered,
“Thought so,” follows.
Darkness licks at the edge of my consciousness, threatening to drag me back
under. I moan, and probing fingers pry my eyes open. A bright light flashes in them, but I hardly notice.
“Miss, can you tell me what hurts?”
An older man replaces the light, his face crowding over me. His image is blurry, but I can make out tufts of gray hair, a bushy mustache, and pale blue eyes.
I part my lips, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
Jesus, what did they inject me with? Whatever it was, it’s making me
disoriented and dizzy.
“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but I need you to tell me what hurts.”
Everything. Everything fucking hurts.
“My… shoulder,” I croak out finally. “My head.”
“Anywhere else? Your chest or stomach?”
“Back,” I gasp, remembering once more being dragged out of my car. My
back feels as if it’s been shredded with a cheese grater.
“That all?” he presses.
I nod my head, the incessant questions exhausting. A million other places hurt, too, but my energy is depleted, and I’m so very tired.
“I’m going to put you under anesthesia and get you fixed up, okay?”
Clarity surfaces over my surroundings, and the man’s facial features sharpen.
Along with another man standing behind him, who’s shifting on his feet and watching us.
Time to go to sleep, princess.
Dark bottomless eyes and a wicked grin—Rio. He’s the one who had dragged
me out of the car. Flashes of that conversation elude me, but I know there was
more to it. I can’t think past the relentless pounding in my skull.
Just as my eyes were beginning to focus, my vision blurs once more, and my
eyelids grow heavy. I can’t fight the deep pull to just close my eyes.
I don’t want to fight it. Not when it’ll take me away from the pain.
Addie, baby, I need you to fight for me, okay? I need you to survive until I get to you.
“How badly is she damaged?”
The question stirs me out of the endless pit I’ve been drifting in, where only
an illusion of Zade’s voice lives. It’s not real—his voice isn’t actually there. But it feels so real. So soothing, that I fight to stay where I can hear him.
“How badly do you think? You ran her off the road.”
Alongside the angry response is a swell of dull pain pulsing throughout my body. I hear a sigh, and then the older man continues.
“She’ll have a few scars along her back from the glass. You’re lucky they were fairly clean, so the scarring won’t be too terrible.”
“That’ll decrease her value,” a voice mutters, too low to discern who said it.
“Shut the fuck up, you’re getting paid regardless. The fuck you care for?”
“Uh, maybe because your dumbass mistake is risking my life? Jesus, Rio, I knew she was banged up but not this bad.”
Whatever Rio was going to say, it’s cut off by the unfamiliar voice—the one
who must be the doctor.
“She has thirty stitches between the two larger lacerations because she was dragged across sharp metal and glass. You couldn’t have expected that not to cause permanent damage,” he says, clearly taking Rio’s companion’s side.