My heart leaped up into my throat.
One side of her face was black and blue, her lip split and puffy as if she had been punched hard and repeatedly. The sickness only grew when I could make out bruise marks around her throat. Hanna and Birdie also appeared as if they had been beaten. And all I could hope was they had only been hit. Nothing more. Except something in Rosie’s gaze drove bile up my throat. A hollowness that had nothing to do with starvation. She turned quickly back to her work, Hanna and Birdie doing the same.
Every few stitches, I would do a fast glance across the room. I didn’t recognize even one soldier. All new faces, and brand-new uniforms, as though the HDF I knew had been wiped away.
Stretching my attention to the men’s side, I noticed their population had grown even more in the week. There were new women prisoners, but it was clear one sex was dominating the prison.
Warwick had been put on the worst job, shoveling coal into the fires and cleaning the ashes out, sweat already rolling down his face, his skin red and blistering.
The only person near him was Kitty. She looked horrible. Gaunt, with a busted lip and sagging shoulders. She had given up keeping her shirt on, and it gutted me. They had finally broken her. She kept her head down, putting the ore into and out of the stove.
Ash, Scorpion, Wesley, and Lukas were spread out by the machines, cutting and shaping metal into bullet cases.
No Killian.
“Where is he?” My shadow jumped to Scorpion, struggling to become totally solid, my energy still on the fritz and fighting the goblin metal.
“Fuck.” Scorpion jumped, hissing out under his breath, his head cocking to me.
“Where is Killian?”
Scorpion glanced around, his mouth pressing together before he bowed his head, pretending to work. His shade standing next to me at the sewing machines, as if he felt the extra strain it took for me.
“Probably in the hole. He lost it after what happened. They kicked the living fuck out of him and dragged him away.” Scorpion’s gaze went to Hanna and Rosie, then to the ground. His jaw rolled, fists clenching. “He was trying to protect them. Especially her.”
I already knew what her he was talking about—the image of Rosie being held back screaming. That sinking feeling dropped again, swirling the drain.
“Things got much worse here. Those old guards you knew became feral.”
I had seen it before I left, the wildness that took them over.
Scorpion glanced down the way again.
“What?” I muttered.
“And I think something’s wrong with Hanna.”
My attention went straight to her. This time I really saw how restless she was, fumbling with the stitching like she had lost her basic skills.
Istvan had given her the pills too. Only for a day or two, but what if it was enough? The change happened quickly with Killian’s group.
Scorpion’s shade grunted, our link cut, drawing me back across the room. A guard belted him with a club, telling him to pick up his pace.
I gritted my teeth, feeling the acid burn into my nose and back down my throat. Fury gurgled in my stomach over the pain and torment my friends have gone through, the sexual, mental, and physical abuse they have endured.
A group of three guards sauntered in, pulling my focus. Their egos entered before they did. I had never seen them before, but they trotted in as if they owned the place, zeroing in on one person.
“Kurva!” A dark-haired boy of around twenty called to her, fae essence puffing up his chest, reminding me so much of Kristof, the same arrogant entitlement.
Rosie sucked in, but her body reflected nothing as she continued to sew.
“I called you, picsa.” He came behind her, grabbing her head.
Rosie would always be pointed out, be the one treated as if she deserved being abused because of what she had done for her livelihood. A man forced her into that life so she could survive, and now they blamed her for it. Just because Rosie had sex for money in the past didn’t mean this was no big deal. It was still rape.
He tugged on Rosie’s hair, pointing across the table to Hanna. “My friend Petro wants you. And Josef here wants you, Blondie.” He nodded at Birdie. He clutched Rosie’s scalp, getting her to rise. “Now move!”
“No!” Nora cried out, rising from her seat, her hand reaching for her daughter as Petro yanked Hanna up. Another guard pulled out his baton, striking her on the back of the head.
“Anya!” Mom. Hanna screamed as Nora flopped over her sewing machine, knocked unconscious.
Birdie was forced to her feet, her hands in balls, her face locked like stone. Josef’s hands were already rubbing over her breasts.
I couldn’t let this happen.
Standing, I felt my lungs pumping with rage. “Don’t fucking touch them,” I seethed.
The three men stopped, turning around, shocked someone had the audacity to say something.
“Excuse me?” The main guy blinked at me, then paused. “Well, well, hello.” His gaze ran down my body and over my face. “You are fucking stunning. Think I’d rather have your mouth around my dick anyway.” He shoved Rosie into the table, strolling to me. He was about an inch shorter than me, but he tried to puff himself up. “Must teach you some manners. Punish that mouth for speaking when it wasn’t told to—you got a lot to learn, new fish.”
“Fish?” I slanted my head, curving one brow. “You are mistaken.” I smiled tightly. “I’m a fucking piranha.”
As if Warwick felt what I needed before I even knew what I was going to do, he poured his strength into me, moving me quicker than usual, fluid and precise. My knuckles struck his throat. He stumbled back, choking for air, his fingers clawing at his throat. I jumped forward, ramming my fist into Josef, blood spraying from his nose, the force knocking him to the ground as Petro leaped for me. Spinning, my boot kicked him right in the crotch, dropping him instantly.
Yells boomed off the high ceiling, twirling me back toward the room. Guards from everywhere in the vast warehouse ran for me, weapons drawn.
I saw Warwick out of the corner of my eye, starting to run to me, the heavy cinder shovel in his hands, but he stopped short, his attention on the doorway.
I tried to follow his gaze when electricity zapped through my body, locking me in place as agony tore and sliced through every nerve and muscle. My frame crashed to the ground, flopping and jerking, spitting and choking.
It stopped, and I gasped for air.
Boots struck the ground, a face peering over me. “Can’t even make it an hour.” Boyd’s smug smile blurred in my vision. “He said as long as you’re standing tomorrow night.” He hit the button again.
My body shut down, protecting itself from the onslaught of utter agony.
Like that should be anything new.
Chapter 22
“Kovacs.” My name was called through an inky goo. The pull was like milk being poured into coffee, the creamy haze lightening the syrupy darkness. The obscurity had protected me, a barrier to the pain that invaded my muscles, like an exposed wire through my entire body. I became aware of weight restraining my arms and legs, the cold, hard stone digging into my bones, and the smell—a particular odor which clung to the walls, the scent branded my memory.
The hole.
“Kovacs?”
My eyes flew open to Warwick leaning over me, his shadow flickering with the effort. Sucking harshly, I sat up, hoping this was all a nightmare and I’d wake up in bed with Warwick. But the man who reached out and touched my face wasn’t the real one, nor were we in a nice comfy cabin.
Chained and in hell, the suffocating stale air of the hole roped around my lungs. This time there were no loud noises or flashing lights, which I found odd. Just darkness. I had to breathe in and out in slow pulls to curb my panic. Only a little light from the cracks around the door gave any break to the solid blackness, allowing me to see marginal details of the man crouching in front of me.
“Beginning to think you enjoy being chained up, princess.” Warwick’s shadow ran his thumb over my busted lip. Petro had gotten a solid hit in before I took him down. “Stop being a fucking hero every moment.”
I could feel the difference, his presence barely solid, sweat beading at his forehead.
“I couldn’t sit back and watch. I couldn’t let it happen to my friends,” I muttered to him, sagging into the wall. The manacles around my legs and arms gave me barely any room to move.
“Talking to yourself, Ms. Kovacs? Or do I assume someone is here I can’t see?” A voice jerked me, rattling my chains. My heart thumped with a spurt of adrenaline, not expecting anyone else in here with me. “You have returned. It may sound selfish, but I’m glad. I know you are at least alive.”
It sounded somewhat off, but I knew that voice.