Hunted (A Sinners Series Book 2)

“Are you going to tell Mom?” I ask.

“No,” Keegan says. He shoves the door back into place and levels an intense look at me. “Don’t tell anyone—Mom or him—no matter what. No one but you and I can know it’s here. It’s our secret, okay?”

“Okay,” I say.

“Promise.”

“Keegan, I promise I’m not going to say anything.”

“Good.” He runs his hands through his curly hair and takes a deep breath. “Look, if things get real bad, you can escape through here.”

I lower my eyes and fiddle with my hands. The fact that Dad’s gone and we moved to High Society is bad enough. But I can’t even begin telling Keegan about the burning sensation in my arm or how our Stepdad shuts me away in the closet when Keegan’s not around.

“Lexi, answer me!” I hear Cole’s voice yelling at me, and I’m back in the cement trap.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” I say. My arm tingles with pins and needles, and the memory lives fresh in my mind. I shift my legs as much as the space allows.

“What do you mean you didn’t hear me? I was screaming,” he says.

“I blacked out, and I had a flashback.”

“Well, no more of that. You scared me.”

“It’s not like I can control them … ”

“I know. I’m sorry. Okay, let’s keep talking, maybe that’ll help. What was the flashback about?”

“Nothing significant, just something from my past,” I say, shrugging it off. I can’t admit how the clarity of my memories seems to be coming back. Like I was in a fog for years. A shiver runs down my spine, and I grasp my arms.

“Such as?” he asks.

“Keegan showed me a way out of High Society.” My voice catches.

“Really? Is that how he got away?”

“I guess so.”

“Are you sure these flashbacks are real?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes they’re foggy, but this one I remember clear as day. I’m actually hoping one of them will give me a clue as to why Wilson wants me alive. Or maybe just help me understand how the hell I ended up here.”

We’re silent for a while. I think Cole has stopped digging. Zeus is panting.

“Mind if I ask you something?” I ask.

“It depends on what it is.” Cole resumes throwing chunks of cement.

“Your parents. What happened to them?” I ask. Cole sighs, and then he’s silent. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I was just curious.”

“No, it’s all right,” he says. “I don’t mind telling you.” His voice sounds serious. “My mom was a good woman.” He breathes hard, and I can’t imagine how tired he must be. “She worked hard and loved me and my father. But when I got older and she didn’t need to take care of me, she spent all her time with my dad. So that’s when I started doing my own thing.”

“Like what?”

“Wrestling. And not to brag, but I was really good. I kicked everyone’s ass, hard-core.”

“Oh my God. I’m picturing you wearing that lovely outfit right now, and I have to be honest … it’s not really a turn-on.” I laugh so hard my chest burns.

“I made that thing look sexy; all the girls who watched me wrestle never complained.”

“Okay, trying to make me jealous isn’t a good idea right now.”

“I figure you can’t punch me through the walls.”

“Smart-ass,” I say.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t interested in girls back then. Wrestling was my life.”

“I want to hear more about your parents.”

“Well … my mom got really sick, and my father wouldn’t leave her side.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“Not sure. We couldn’t afford to take her to the doctor,” he says in a flat, monotone voice. “So when the guards recruited me, I joined without hesitation, because I knew the money could help my mom.”

“Wow, really?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you wanted to be a kick-ass killer or something.”

He laughs wryly. “Not so much. Just wanted to compete in wrestling. That was as far as my aspirations went at the time. I was not a diehard fan of the regime.”

“But that’s amazing, what you did for her, for your family,” I say. “Did she get better?”

“No. It was too late. She passed away shortly after I joined.” He clears his throat and takes a drink of water. “And then my father committed suicide.”

I’m shocked into silence until I cannot hold back.

“Oh no, Cole.” I reach my hand through the hole, and he grasps it, twisting the ring around on my finger. “I’m so sorry.” I fight back tears, just imagining the pain he must have felt losing both his parents the way he did.

“So you see, when I read your ring’s inscription, I believed it because I’ve lived it,” Cole says. His voice breaks, and I hear him sniff.

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