I handed them over without complaint.
Once we were inside, we sat there, in silence, listening for something, anything, to come from O’Shea’s office.
As he started driving, he turned to me. “We’re going to find her.”
“I know,” I said.
There were no other words I could say, because the thought of never seeing her again was too much to even think about.
When we first met, I thought we were better off apart.
But it didn’t take long for me to realize we were so much stronger together.
Now, alone just wasn’t even an option.
ELLE
Long and lean. Dauntless. Fearless. He was right in front of me. I lunged for him, twining my arms around his neck, feathering kisses across his face, his cheek, his chin, his nose, his scar, his lips—warm, lush, soft, blissful.
Logan. Logan. Logan. I said his name a million times.
My body felt cold, though; even in his arms I couldn’t get warm.
I held him tighter, but the chill was still inside me.
I was so cold.
Awareness started to sink in. He wasn’t with me. I was alone.
My eyes heavy, I wanted to open them.
Curled on my side, a sharp pain radiated though me.
I felt beneath me.
There was a rock there.
I tried to move it.
I tried to move myself.
I could do neither.
My throat was scratchy. My mouth was dry. My skin itched. My body ached all over. The chill I had been feeling had settled in my bones.
I was cold, so cold.
Muted voices were incomprehensible.
My head jerked toward them.
They were too far away for me to see any more than two figures. One dark and looming, the other tall but much thinner, wirier.
It was then I noticed that I was no longer bound or blindfolded.
Okay, where was I?
I glanced around. There were windows everywhere. Plants. Dirt. Sprinklers.
I was in a greenhouse.
Shadows approached me. It was dark and hard to see.
Suddenly, hands gripped me. I wanted to fight them off.
I wanted to be strong.
I just couldn’t.
That smell was back in my nose—the expensive aftershave and foul breath.
My stomach retched.
One of the men pulled me upright and sat me in a chair. His face was covered again with that ski mask. “Good, you’re awake. I’m almost ready for you.”
I opened my mouth and found I could speak. “Ready for what? Why am I here?”
“You’re here so you won’t make the same mistakes your sister made. You need to understand the value of remaining faithful to the one who loves you.”
His voice. It was the same voice from the phone calls. “What are you talking about?”
“Not what, who. Michael,” he snapped. “If you can see the path set forth for you, you won’t have to worry about the wee little one and her future. Walk down that path, and walk toward Michael.”
“Clementine,” I whispered.
He ignored me and went on. “You’re also here to learn you must stop meddling. If you can learn the value of these things through God’s word, then you will live through this,”
My whole body quaked.
My brain was fuzzy.
This man had taken my sister.
“Let me go!” I screamed.
He laughed.
Make him feel something, Logan had told me when he took me to the boxing gym just last week and I showed him my moves.
With all my might, I lifted my leg and kicked my foot right into his groin.
He yelped and leapt back, grabbing himself.
Another set of hands were on me. The wiry one’s, the younger one’s. He got right in my face. I knew him. He was the young man who’d delivered flowers to me last night. Without hesitation, he pulled me up by my blouse and slapped me. “You bitch.”
I thrashed back. Kicking, screaming, hitting.
It did nothing.
“Sit her down, I’ll get the rope,” the man in charge barked.
The younger one manhandled me, groping and touching me in places he didn’t have to before he had me in the chair.
The man in charge wrapped a blindfold around me and then tied my wrists behind my back. “Here, silence her. We’ll try again in the morning.”
Moments later there was that horrible Band-Aid smell back in the air and I heard another flick, flick.
“No,” I pleaded. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I promise.”
My blouse was lifted. Fingers smoothed across my skin. Feeling me. Making me want to scream.
“Watch yourself, son.” The voice came from a distance.
The fingers ceased. He was pinching the skin on my stomach. Then I felt the sharp prick of a needle and liquid started to spread through my body like fire again.
“Not the entire vial, you fucking idiot. We can’t afford to lose her. We need her alive.”
This time I didn’t whimper.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t try to get away.
I wanted to.
But I was too tired.
I was weak.
I’m sorry.
DAY 35
LOGAN
Talking was overrated.
For hours I’d paced like a caged tiger and listened to Miles and my father try to talk me down from the ledge I was dangling from.