Next to her, Evan followed suit.
The doors shut with a slide and a click, and whatever system was used to pull the boxes upward was well oiled, because no other sound came from within. The recording ceased, and Noelle turned toward Evan. His one uninjured eye was wide and wary, and she could only imagine she wore a similar expression. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She had this strange sense that something was starting. That the second part of whatever this was had just been set in motion, something that she couldn’t yet define or understand.
As if in response to her thoughts, a portion of the wall to her left slid open, and a man walked through. Noelle braced, pressing herself backward. Next to her, Evan hurled himself forward. “Let us out,” he demanded. He shook the bars. “Tell us what you want. My father has money. Lots of it. He’ll pay you.” His words came out in a panted rush, tumbling over one another as he attempted to bargain with the emotionless stranger who had practically appeared out of nowhere.
The man, wearing black pants, a black button-up shirt, black coat, and red shoes, his hair parted and combed to one side, ignored Evan. Noelle watched him, tense and afraid, as he came toward the door to her cage. His outfit reminded her of some sort of uniform, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, this alarmed her. Evan continued to appeal to the man, but the man seemed completely unaffected by his begging. But when he reached Noelle’s cage and she met his near-black-eyed gaze, she could see the barely contained excitement in his beady eyes. Light reflected off his wide silver tie clip, and she slunk back farther.
“You’ve been rented,” he said.
Terror shot through her, and for a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Nonononono. Her breath released in a harsh gust. “Rented?” she squeaked. Next to her, Evan had grown quiet. “For what?” She knew. On the perimeter of her thoughts, she knew, but she refused to acknowledge it.
“Do you like cars?” Evan asked, and she heard the panic in his voice too. “My dad has a sweet Ferrari. Man, it’s an icon. You could have it. No questions asked.”
His voice was choked, desperate, and for the beat of a moment, Noelle wanted to laugh. He was bargaining for her. But it was also ridiculous because the promise of money hadn’t worked, and so neither would a car.
A drumbeat of fear pounded in her bloodstream. Rented.
She couldn’t think of another word that had ever inspired so much terror as that one, in this particular situation.
The man reached for the electronic lock and inputted a series of numbers. Noelle shrank back farther. “No! Please, no. I’m . . . I’m a virgin.” That made the man pause, but only briefly. Her heart sank to see that his eyes had only grown brighter with her declaration. She’d fight him, then. She’d kick him in the nuts. She’d kick anyone in the nuts who tried to touch her.
He pulled the handle just as he took something from his pocket. A stun gun. The door swung open. “You have a choice,” he said, his voice high pitched and nasal. “Here, you always have a choice.” Here? Where is here?
Her breath came in pants as she shook her head. “Then no. I say no. I will not cooperate.”
He smiled. His teeth were small and square. “That is not the choice. You may choose to come with me. Or you may stay here, sitting safely in your cage, and we’ll take his fingers.”
Her mind went blank. She worked to make sense of what the man had just said. “His . . . fingers?”
The man’s smile had not slipped or grown. It remained oddly still. “Correct. I will stun him and remove two of his fingers.”
Remove. The world around her seemed to have slowed as though she’d entered a nonsensical nightmare. One that was awful but that she would wake from, shaking her head in bewilderment at what disturbing scenarios the mind could manufacture when left to roam.
She looked over at Evan, whose skin had drained of color. Even the angry, reddish-purple bruise surrounding his eye looked suddenly pastel. He brought his hands slowly from the bars he’d been holding on to, as though unconsciously drawing back the part of him that had been threatened.
Come with me or we’ll take his fingers.
We’ll.
“Who is we?” she asked, her voice soft and shaky.
“I couldn’t answer that,” he said. “Even if I wanted to.”
He was just a type of servant, then? A henchman? Hired muscle? He looked more soft than solid, a roll of flab at his waistline obvious even under the dark shirt, but she supposed a Taser made brute strength unnecessary. She also was pretty sure she saw the outline of a weapon beneath his coat. He was going to deliver her somewhere. And he was prepared should she decide to fight him.
But that was if she agreed to the terms.
Come with me or we’ll take his fingers.
And if she didn’t go with him? She didn’t need that answer spelled out for her. He’d given her a choice. There wasn’t a third option, not really. Save yourself from whatever unknown fate being rented meant, or save Evan’s fingers. She felt like she was underwater, trying desperately to surface, to shrug out of her own skin rather than face this reality.
Rented.
She turned her head, meeting Evan’s one wide eye. He stared back at her. She saw fear there, yes. Horror. Sympathy. Confusion and disorientation. His lips parted as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out exactly what. Instead, he waited. Waited for her to make her choice. He did not attempt an appeal. He did not give her the permission she might have been waiting for. Let them take my fingers. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to suffer.
She didn’t want that, though. Her choice was already made.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Collector eased back in his chair, the wood creaking softly beneath his weight, as he watched the guardian step back, making room for Noelle to exit her container. He sighed. Stupid Noelle. Brave Noelle. Did she even know why she’d made the choice she had? He thought not. Perhaps she’d puzzle that out later. If later existed for her. For them. The boy, Evan, remained silent, his face turned slightly as he watched Noelle stand and wobble toward the door the guardian had nodded toward.
Evan. Noelle. He knew their names. All those watching did because they all had access to their conversation. But on the screen, they were still referred to as Dodger and Midori. Like horses at the track. They’d been given names. The Collector didn’t know how or why the chosen monikers had been picked or if they were random, and he didn’t care. He referred to them only as Evan and Noelle. He wanted to know them.
He’d viewed the entire exchange with the guardian with breathless interest. When the man had first entered, the Collector had watched as Noelle shrank back as though preparing for an attack. And Evan had raced toward what Noelle perceived as a sudden threat. His response was to meet the danger head on, whereas Noelle’s was to run. Interesting. He tucked it away. Everything meant something. Everything might be valuable . . . later.
Whatever he decided that later might entail.