Fight! The roar punched through. I cocked my fist and swung, but the motion was weak and unsteady. My blow found nothing but air as the big bastard moved.
My knee buckled, pain bit deep. Calloused hands gripped my neck. I thrashed, pulling against his hold, but there was no use. He was strong, too strong.
Miles stood from the still body on the floor and headed toward me.
"Fuck you!" harsh words burned. “Fuck you!”
Tears came, stinging and blurring. Don’t cry…don’t you dare fucking cry. I hated in that moment. Hated him. Hated this world. Hated that urgency that had led me here, to this place and these people.
I hated God...
My stomach trembled as the brute’s hand tightened around my throat. I hated the God that made me weak. I hated the God that had taken everything from me…my family, and now my life.
The grip tightened around my throat. My pulse throbbed, filling my head with the thunderous roar. The bastard sneered, digging the tips of his fingers into flesh and veins. He was a monster, a beast. Hard brown eyes held no flicker of emotion. He'd do whatever Miles wanted, no matter the cause.
My boots skimmed the ground as he dragged me backwards. I caught the corner of the chair as he shoved. My arms windmilled, clawing the air for a hold, until I hit the molded plastic with a thud.
"It's me," Kenya whimpered. Her voice cleaved my head, her desperation drowned out my terror. Her chilling screams were all I heard. “It’s me you want. Listen to me! It’s me you want…it’s me…I’m here. I’m right fucking here!”
I tried to swallow, tried to think. My throat wouldn’t work, words were a lump in my throat. I forced a whisper. “Kenya…stop.”
She stumbled forward and clawed for a hold on his arm. “Miles, please. I’ll tell you everything…everything I know.”
Miles stilled, inhaled hard. But there was no changing his mind. I could see that in the cruel glint that shone in his gaze. "Hunter...remove this bitch's jacket. Let's see what we're dealing with."
The savage barbarian grinned as he loomed close. Cracked lips bled against yellowed teeth, leaving smears of crimson as he sneered. I gripped the edges of my jacket. Knuckles burned as I held on. He gripped my wrist and yanked, pulling one hand away before reaching for the other.
But I was quick, grasping the ends again just as soon as he pried my fingers away.
“Bitch,” he snapped. “Stop fighting me…”
Hate flared, carving away the shell, to the fire inside. In that moment, I was no longer the nice girl, no longer the quiet kid…no longer the loner, afraid to fight. “Fuck you, you no-necked motherfucker.”
Thick fingers poked and prodded. His laughter was a growl, blowing foul breath in my face. “I like this one,” he spat, stabbing, grabbing, trying to pry the leather from my grip. “She’s not like the others.”
“No, she isn’t,” Miles murmured, stepping to the side to watch the show. “She isn’t at all.”
I clung onto the leather, gripped the zipper with all I had, but the bastard had strength I couldn’t match. He fumbled with the zipper with one hand and speared the other in my hair. Fire lashed my scalp as strands pulled taught.
My head pulsed with the pain. I slapped his hand away, “Get the fuck off me! Get the fuck off!”
The room blurred under fresh tears as he dragged my hair, wielding it like a weapon to pull me forward. The collar tightened. Leather skidded and gripped, buckling my elbows, before my jacket dropped to the floor.
His fingers released, leaving my hair.
Miles took a step forward, his gaze skimming my throat, my chest...lingering on my breasts. “You want to talk, then talk.”
My mind raced, searching for the words he wanted to hear. I wrenched my head to Kenya as she stumbled forward. “It could be anyone,” she pleaded. “I’m…”
Miles’ gaze snapped toward her. “I’m not talking to you, Kenya. I’ve heard all I want from you. I’m asking her. I want to hear from her.”
He turned to face me, excitement sparkled like a thousand stars in his gaze as he crossed his arms and waited.
My mind blanked, churning, spinning on itself, binding me as I waited, desperate to say something….anything. “The preacher…”
Miles’ breath caught. His chest stilled. There was no movement, no sound, only a flicker of fear in his eyes.
“I want to know where he is.”
“Why?” He demanded.
I licked my lips, waiting for the thread to unravel. “I want to talk to him, to seek counsel.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to see you.”
I flinched with the answer.
“Maybe he’s right where he needs to be. You know, it’s funny,” he snarled, but there was no laughter in those cold brown eyes. There was only hate, only a quiet rage that seethed under the surface as he took a step closer and lifted his hand to ruffle my hair.
I jerked from his reach and stared into those hateful eyes.
“It’s funny that he comes to me one day and tells me all these terrible things, only for you to show up on my doorstep the day after—just like he promised.”
My breath was fire in my lungs as I searched my mind for the truth in a world filled with shadows and lies.
The preacher knew about me?
If he knew about me, then maybe he knew about the Calling…
I speared myself down deep, spiraling, as I reached that deep hum in the center of my soul. The Calling…the quiet drone that’d been muffled by my own howl of rage.
Movement came from the corner of my eye. She moved fast, slipping out of the shadows to cock her fist and lunge.
The blow hit Kenya in the cheek. She stumbled, falling to one knee before she reached for the side of her face. Miles just stood there, oblivious, as her attacker moved in again.
“No, stop!” I growled, struck by this scrawny, wild-eyed girl.
She was sick, fresh blood leaked from her ears and crusted sweat-soaked strands of dirty blonde hair. Her filthy clothes looked like she’d lived in them since those savage storms that ripped the veil from this world and left us barren and alone. A sickening hiss slipped from her lips, and the sound mirrored her feral, hateful stare perfectly.
Kenya dropped her hand from her face, and shoved against the ground to stand. The small round mark on her cheek was starting to swell, turning bright red. “You always were a hateful little bitch, Miriam.”
“You killed him…you killed my Brendan! I’ll kill you…I’ll kill both of you.”
“In the cage,” Miles turned his head and commanded. “Fight it out in there.”
The whippet smiled a sickening smile. She gave a nod and stepped away. Metal howled behind me. Springs screeched, bending and bowing as the cage door opened. I tried to think, tried to piece this all together.
Miles wanted answers. Ones I couldn’t give…ones Kenya refused to give.
She took a step toward me. Her gaze met mine before she lifted her head, her focus on the metal cage behind me.
“Lights,” Miles commanded.