Chapter 31

Chapter 31

“Get up.”A woman’s voice tears me from sleep, and at a tug of the chain, I open my eyes to a redhead, not quite as bony as the other women, but lithe. Her torn flannel shirt reminds me of Jessie, and the red bandana she wears on her head adds a toughness to her small build. “I’m going to unlock the cuffs. You try any bullshit, and I’ll gun you down.” Amber colored eyes lift to mine. “And I’m a damn good shot. I wouldn’t chance it.”

My body is sore and achy, as if I toiled out in the garden all day and ran across the desert after. A stuffiness fills my skull like a coating of cotton on my brain. “Who are you?”

“The million-dollar question is, who are you?”

Rubbing my temples, I roll my eyes at her. “Forget it.”

“Fine. You want to act like a slave, you’ll get treated like one. I’ll call you Girl, how’s that?”

“Rolls off the tongue better than slave, don’t you think? And last I checked, that’s why you idiots kidnapped me.”

“You serve a purpose. That’s the only reason you’re here. Rigs thought you might be of use.” Her gaze sweeps the room and returns to me, as she tips her head. “He let you sleep in here?”

“Let?” I twist back to the pole where I was chained. “As far as I know, I wasn’t given a choice.”

“He doesn’t let anyone stay with him through the night. Doesn’t like to sleep with anyone. Particularly women.”

“Lucky me.” I jerk my head toward the pile of empty blankets on the floor, where he slept. “You forgot to chain him back up last night.”

“The chains are only a precaution.”

“So, you sacrifice the unsuspecting females to the monster and lock the door behind you, is that it?”

Ignoring my question, she pushes at my arm, nudging me forward, and I shoot her a glare as I step toward the door. “C’mon. You’re going to love what I have in store for you today, Girl.”

“Where’d asshole go, anyway? Off to get his knob shined by some poor na?ve cock groupie?”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth. And for your information, he’s out gathering food. For all the cock groupies here, including you.”

“I haven’t touched his cock.”

“Good for you. They’re handing out medals in the banquet hall, if you’d like to grab one.”

“Is everyone a smartass, or just you?”

“Only the ones who can’t stand pretentious and ungrateful bitches like yourself. You think because you come from the other side of the wall that you’re so much better? So pure? I’ve got news, sweetheart. We all pull the same weight around here, and we all share in the fruits of our labor. Equally.”

She leads me to an open space, where four women sit in a wide circle, each carving the innards of a watermelon with flat stones. Six uncracked watermelons sit off to the side, and she gestures for me to sit.

On a log, beside an older woman, I take a seat, resting my elbows on my propped knees. Red hands me a tray with a slice of bread, a mixed variety of fruits, and water. “Eat. And when you’re done, grab a melon and hollow it out. I catch you eating it, and you’ll be thrown into the pit.”

“Pit?”

“It’s where we throw the carcasses for the mountain lions and bobcats. Keeping them fed on the dead ensures they leave us alone.”

“Got it. Don’t eat the watermelon.”

“When you’re done, you’ll smash the watermelon into juice. Remove the seeds and set them aside.”

“What do I do with the juice?”

“Serve it to everyone.”

“Slaves, or the asshole bikers?”

“Everyone.” Hands on her hips, she tilts her chin up. “And no one here is a slave.”

I set my glare on Red, as she spins away, and turn to the aged woman beside me, who sits hunched over herself, scraping melon. “Did they buy you, too?”

Without so much as a blink, she keeps laboring, her lips pursed to a tight pleat of wrinkles.

“She thinks you’re a witch.” The voice comes from behind, where Red has magically appeared once again. “No woman has ever slept through the night with him. She thinks you’re devil spawn.”

“D’you read that from her mind, or what?”

“She told me.”

So she does talk. “If I’m a witch, Rhys must be the devil himself, right? She ignore him, too?”

“She respects him. And fears him.”

“You all have a serious case of Stockholm syndrome. You know that? I could never respect a man who instills fear.”

The corner of Red’s lip kicks up, and she tips her head. “You ain’t been livin’ out here long enough, princess. They’re all predators. Some just happen to be more loyal than others.” She saunters away with her hand set on the hilt of a blade, and I turn my attention back to the old woman.

“I’m not a witch. Kinda hard to get away when you’re tied to a post all night.”

For the first time, she looks up at me, eyes studying me for a moment, before she goes back to her toil.

I finish breakfast and set to carving the watermelon with a flat, dull stone, emptying the contents into the bowl as the other women have done. I separate the seeds as instructed, adding them to a growing pile in the larger bowl placed in the center of our circle. Smashing the fruit, I grind it with the rock until it’s a frothy juice, the whole time wishing I had my sling.

The other women pour the juice back into the melon shell and grab a cup. I follow their lead and approach each person in the cavern—the old, the young, and a couple of the bikers—offering a cupful of the juice. My gaze remains glued to the mouth of the cave as I move, to where I know freedom lies beyond. If I can get past the guard, I can make a run for one of those vehicles in the building. I’ve never driven a motorcycle, but I’m willing to take a crash course to get the hell out of here—a place I’m struggling to figure out.

No one seems unwilling to be here, except for me. And from what I’ve gathered, the plan for me isn’t to play kitchen maid to the rest of them. I’m going to be used to get into Szolen.

As much as I’d love to see that town finally succumb to the reality that surrounds its perfect walls, I’m not willing to sacrifice myself for a bunch of psychopath bikers to do it. If Legion gets wind I’ve given anyone access to their precious community, I’ll be staked to a post as a lesson for all.

Red passes something to a young woman, perhaps my age. She pops whatever was given to her into her mouth and makes her way toward one of the bikers who sits off to the side, snacking on a piece of meat. The girl kneels down beside him, her head bowed as she takes his hand. In turn, he sets down the plate, and the two of them pass a guard, who pats the biker on his back as the couple disappears into a long dark tunnel.

The scene curls my lip, reminding me of Damian, and how his little Legion buddies would pat him on the back when I agreed to meet him in the alley, or some other obscure location. If I had to guess, Red gave her Queen Anne’s Lace. In Szolen, it was used as a contraceptive, popular with the younger crowd in particular, and Papa often kept it on hand in the clinic.

At the opposite side of the cave, the women serving the juice file out of the cavern, carrying the watermelons past the guard, and a blossom of hope tingles my chest. I quickly shuffle towards him, but pause on remembering that my journal is somewhere in Rhys’s room.

I shake my head. Sorry, Papa. I can’t pass up the opportunity to run.

Across the cavern, I come to a stop, when the guard throws out an arm that thuds against my chest.

“I’m following the others.” I jerk my head toward the women, who continue through the cavern ahead.

“Not her, Crank.” Red’s voice slithers down my spine, and I turn to find her standing behind me, arms akimbo.

The snarky comeback sits cocked at the back of my mouth, quickly trampled by a flicker of movement and the tromp of boots coming toward me.

Through the cave, Rhys carries two stacked boxes, piled high with vegetables. His eyes are glued to me as he strides through the cavern. The intensity of them is too much, and I look away until he passes.

Behind him is the one Rhys called brother—the one who cupped me the day before. He stops to kiss Red as he passes. Trailing after them is a line of people, wounded, bleeding from cuts, and carrying the welts and bruises of a beating. Every one of them appears to be displaced as they enter the cavern, miserable and broken. Mostly women and only a couple of children. No men.

A young blonde girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, glances up at me, as if she refuses to meet my stare, her dress ragged, torn apart and spattered with blood.

Rigs and three other bikers bring up the rear—all of them carrying supplies and wounds of a fight. Scanning the cavern brings forth a realization I failed to notice yesterday. There are about two women for every man here. As if they’re stockpiling the females.

The sight of them heats my blood, and I cast a glare back at Red, as what was a mass of confusion suddenly comes to light.

The rebels. The ones who’ve been raiding hives, stealing their supplies.

The melon is pulled out of my arms, and I snap my attention to the older woman exchanging it for a bowl of steaming broth, a chunk of meat, and melon juice in a cup.

“For Rhys. Take it to him.”

Anger seethes in my blood, so hot I could unleash hell in this place. Instead, I carry that anger with me through the cave and back to the room where I awakened earlier.

Slamming through the door, I find Rhys standing with his back to me, peeling the leather vest from his shoulders. When he turns, a splotch of red marks an injury that he leans into, as if in pain.

Good.

“Here’s your supper.” The venom coursing through my veins bleeds into my voice as I cross the room to him.

He falls into one of the chairs beside his bed, and waves the food over.

I stand before him and dump the bowl of broth, meat and juice into his lap, tossing the tray to the side, but oddly enough, he doesn’t so much as flinch with the scalding liquid. “I hope you burn in hell, asshole.”

His lips peel back with anger, a sight that brings a smile to my face, until I twist around to find Red standing behind me.

Fury tinges her face, and all I see is a flash of her fist flying toward me.

* * *

A dull achethrobs in my jaw, and I lift my hand to rub it. The clink of a chain draws my eyes open, to the cuffs at my wrists, and I roll my head back against a rusted post, which I’m tethered to once more.

Goddamn it.

The flicker of a sconce on the wall allows me to see that this post is thinner, staked down into the gravelly bed of sand.

Beyond the post is a long tunnel with no light at the end—not Rhys’s cavern—and I’m smack in the middle of it, lying in a soft bed of sand. With a frown, I roll over onto my stomach, tugging at the post.

“C’mon, sleeping beauty.” Red’s voice has officially become my least favorite sound in the world.

I roll my eyes and lower my gaze, to see her standing at my feet, keys dangling from her hip. “I really hate you.”

“I’m crushed. Really.” She kneels down beside me, and the second my bound hand grips the keyring, her blade is at my throat. “Piss break. And if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to tell the others that a Rager ran off with you.”

“You’re taking me out of the cave?” The air of disbelief in my voice isn’t feigned. I find it stupid she’d take the chance.

“We go as a group. It’s safer that way.”

“I’m not pissing in front of a bunch of oversexed men. I choose to die of piss poisoning, thanks.”

“It’s only women. There’s a small tinaja where we gather water and bathe.”

I rear back at that, disgusted. “You drink from the same water you bathe in?”

“Unless someone’s sick out here? Yeah. In case you missed it, we don’t have the luxury of showers and cozy bubble-baths.” Lowering the blade, she unlocks the cuffs, releasing my arms. “No one wants to keep you in chains, but if you’re going to pull that bullshit, I’ve got no reason to let you walk around here.”

“Do they give you a cut, or something? What do you get out of enslaving women?”

“I told you before. No one’s a slave here.”

“You drag these women from their hives to … what? Hook up with the men here? I’ve seen it, so don’t tell me you don’t.”

“Every one of these women wants to be here, so watch your fucking mouth. They’re safer here than out there.” She juts out her chin and pushes to her feet. “You’re lucky Rigs found you.” Reaching down to me, she flicks her fingers, but I bat her hand away, clambering to my feet without her help.

“You’re delusional. The only thing Rigs did was transport me from one prison to the next.”

“Gordy isn’t a bad man. Certainly not the worst. But he’ll damn well do whatever he has to for his family. That includes selling young women to men who wouldn’t think twice about cutting out the tongue of a smart-mouth like you.”

I don’t tell her that she’ll have to cut off my legs to keep me from taking off. Instead, I follow her out of the cave, along with four other women, none of whom were in last night’s group.

Once we pass the guard, I glance back to make sure none of the bikers follow and direct my attention toward the light ahead. We breach the end of the tunnel, and my muscles tighten, poised to run.

Outside, Red tips her head back and blows a kiss into the air. I follow the path of it to the man pacing along the rocks with his gun. Hawkeye. Rigs had said the man wouldn’t shoot anything with a patch, or a pussy, but I’ll wait until we’re out of sight, just in case he makes me an exception.

We follow a trail, all of us in single file, with Red bringing up the rear. Through the tall canyons, we reach an area of limestone flanked by stacks of shale. In the center of the path, embedded in the limestone, is a decent-sized pool of water—biggest I’ve ever seen in the mountains, about twenty feet across. Temporary, judging the lines and ridges in the rock.

I glance around, noticing we’re well out of Hawkeye’s sight, while the other girls gather at the edge of the tinaja.

A thump hits my shoulder, as Red comes to a stand beside me, and I look down to accept a canteen and a small clay object that looks like a shell filled with some kind of oil. “C’mon, princess. You can toilet there,” she says, pointing toward a path beyond the pool that’s lined with bushes. “When you’re done, grab some water to take back.”

Perfect.

“What’s this?” I lift the clay bowl, taking in the fragrant scent that fills my nose.

“Jojoba rose oil. Makes ya smell good.”

“Why would I want to smell good for any of you?”

She shrugs, stepping ahead of me. “Don’t use it. I couldn’t care less.”

I’ll grab the water first, then make a run for the mountains. The canteen should last me two days if I conserve it, and hopefully, I’ll find another water source.

As if she’s reading my mind, Red says, “There’s no other water for miles. Make sure you fill it to the brim.”

A threat that’d keep most from running, I suppose.

I’m not most.

Taking a seat beside a brunette, I dip my canteen in the water, watching the bubbles gather at the mouth of it.

“What happened to your arm?”

I lift my gaze just enough to see the brunette is staring down at my wrist and the obvious suicide scar there. “Fell on a knife.”

Her lips stretch to a smile, and she raises the canteen to her mouth for a sip. “Not gonna lie. I thought about it myself.” She nods toward a slightly younger girl with sandy brown hair across the pond, sliding down into the water in nothing but a bra and panties. “That’d leave my sister alone, though.”

Seconds tick as I finish filling the canteen and splash some water on my face. It’s not that I don’t care what the woman is telling me, I do, but my mind is calculating how far I can sprint down that path before Red takes the first shot from her pistol.

I cap the water and cross the strap over my head, readying myself for the dash of my life. “Yeah. Well, if you change your mind, it’s not worth it.”

With a chuckle, she drags a rag along her arms, slipping it beneath her shirt to her armpits. “I wouldn’t. Now that I’m pregnant.”

It’s then I look down to see the bulge sticking out from her tattered shirt—small with her skinny frame, but definitely there. Sick bastards probably impregnated her.

Click. Click. Click.

My muscles steel at the sound of growls in the distance. Approaching. Fast.

I snap my attention toward the oncoming Ragers, barreling toward us down the opposite path.

“Anna!” The woman beside me scrambles to her feet.

I jump to mine, backing slowly down the trail behind me.

Screams echo through the canyon, bouncing off the rock, as the women paddle for the edge of the tinaja.

Shots hit the air, and I turn to see Red charging forward, helping the women out of the pool, as she nails one of the Ragers square in the head with a bullet.

A Rager lifts Anna from the edge of the pool, dragging her away, while she kicks and screams.

Another sinks his teeth into one of the older women.

“Anna!” The one who sat next to me seconds ago hurls herself at the Rager hauling away her sister, but one hard slam of the male’s deformed hand sends her flying into the adjacent rock.

Red shoots the one now feeding off the older woman, and two more gather at her body, tearing into it as she lets out a gurgled cry.

All my instincts tell me to run.

Run. Survive.

I spin on my heel to do that, and catch a glimpse of Red, shaking her head, before she takes off after the Rager who stole the girl. Along the way, she helps the brunette, and the two hobble along the path behind them.

A Rager darts toward me, and I snatch a palm-sized rock from the ground, pitching it straight toward its forehead. Blood marks the impact, kicking his head back and his feet out from under him. He collapses, scuttling across the limestone on his knees toward me. I nab another rock and slam it against his skull. One. Two. Three. The fourth blow makes a sickening crack, and he falls to the ground.

Need to go. Need to go. Need to go.

A foghorn blares inside my head, telling me to get the hell out of here.

Another Rager rushes in, and as he reaches out for me, I skirt the swipe of his arms and continue along the path.

Instead of running away, though. I dart after Red and the brunette.

* * *

A frosty chillbranches up my spine, as I enter the mouth of the unfamiliar cave. I peer into the darkness beyond, into which the footsteps I’ve been following have disappeared, and the chasing shiver is my body’s last-ditch effort to turn me around.

Screams echo from up ahead, and the pinprick of light tells me I have a good couple hundred yards of pitch-blackness to walk through before I reach it.

If I wasn’t so stubborn, my brain would convince me to turn back and abort mission, but there’s only so much the body can do when adrenaline takes over.

A putrid scent hits my nose, and I choke back the urge to upchuck, as I tread across the gravel that crunches beneath my boots.

More screams.

Every nerve in my body is wired. Standing on end. Waiting to be dragged away, or bitten.

I should go. I should turn around right now and save my own ass.

Like Papa said, being alone is the only way to survive out here.

An object strikes my foot, and I swallow a scream, slapping a hand over my mouth. The rattle of the object draws my curiosity, and I bend forward, patting around in darkness, until I palpate a cold rod. A sticky wetness slides across my fingertips, and I lift the object, recognizing the flashlight in my hand.

I flick it on.

A mangled face lurches toward me on a growl, and a scream explodes past my lips. On instinct, I slam the flashlight in his face.

Arms band around my waist, and I stumble backward, falling to the ground. Fear strangles my breaths, and I flop onto my stomach, clawing at the dirt to get away. A harsh yank sends me flying backward with the gravel scratching across my stomach.

I kick out at the Rager that drags me deeper into the cave.

“Yar mine, bitch,” he growls.

Arms flailing, I reach out for a passing boulder and grip tight.

The Rager stumbles, his grip faltering, and I scramble away from him.

An obnoxious growl clatters inside my head when the Rager dives toward me.

Fire streaks across my scalp, as he grabs hold of my hair.

I grapple for his hand, digging my heels into the dirt. Sharp rocks and gravel slice across my back, while the walls around me open to a cavern, and the pressure at my skull falls away. Rolling forward, I push to my feet and scramble toward the dark tunnel ahead of me.

The Rager who dragged me here steps in front of me, blocking the exit.

I back away from him, and scan the surroundings, to find two more Ragers closing in on me.

The screams are louder, and I catch a quick glimpse of the bodies strung along the walls, like macabre marionettes. Bloodied female torsos, without heads or limbs.

A cold sensation fills my chest, while sickness gurgles in my belly. Every breath begs for more air, and my throat burns with the sudden dryness.

The surrounding tents and blankets tell me they were a hive that must’ve stumbled upon a pocket, infecting every one of them. Judging by their ability to talk and hunt in packs, I’d guess they were Stage Two—the psychopath stage, wherein kills can be both purposeful and strictly for their own amusement.

A painful cry draws my attention toward Anna, lying trapped beneath the Rager that straddles her. Her bra has been removed, and the Rager grips her breast with one hand, clutching a bloody mass in the other hand that looks like a heart. He dangles it over her, the blood dripping across her bare skin, then lowers the gelatinous mass to her mouth as if he wants her to eat.

Red lies passed out, and the brunette is tied to a post beneath the torsos, screaming and kicking. Because she’s already pregnant, my guess is she’ll be killed for food.

Beneath the high-pitched screams is a long droning sound, like the agonized wail of endless torment. My eyes follow the sound to the pale, skinny body of a naked woman, tied to the wall of the cavern. Her big, bulging belly pulses with life, the protrusions beneath her skin sending a rush of nausea from my stomach to the back of my mouth. The shape is unnatural—too big for her spindly frame. The milky white of her eyes and the mottling of her skin confess she’s in a progressed stage of infection.

They brought us back to their nest.

My heart slams into my chest, pounding in my throat. On the ground in front of me is Red’s gun. I dart forward and aim at the Rager blocking the exit. The sound of the click sends waves of dread through my muscles, and I drop the useless gun.

I look around the ground for anything. Anything I can use as a weapon. Backing farther away from the approaching Ragers, something hits my heel, and I snap my head down to the body of an older man, whose vacant eyes and the flies buzzing around him, are a sure sign he’s dead. Perhaps one of the men from their camp. The sight of his exposed chest cavity sends a shudder down my spine, but in his hand is a knife that I swipe, holding in front of me as the Rager who brought me edges closer. My hands tremble. No doubt, he sees my fear. Can probably smell it on the air.

The Rager’s lips stretch to a wicked grin, showing a set of teeth that are barely clinging to his gums. “No goin’ anywhar.” He talks as if he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

I’d give anything to have my sling right now.

“Stop! Please!” Anna’s muffled cry echoes from behind me, and I wonder if the Rager’s stuffed her mouth with the bloody organ.

Snaggletooth charges toward me, and I brace my muscles for the impact.

I swipe out at him, slicing the blade across his stomach, eliciting little more than a grunt.

A second Rager follows on his heels, but before I can swing my blade, Snaggletooth hisses and slams him into the wall, in some twisted bid for dominance.

My attention shifts between the two fighting, and the third whose eyes track me, but he doesn’t advance.

With my blade still poised to stab, I watch Snaggletooth chew away the second Rager’s ear, before turning his sights back on me.

He charges toward me again.

Dodging the second swipe, he grips my wrist, and we wrestle for control of the knife.

Gritting my teeth, I push my muscles to fight the pressure against my arm guiding the knife to my throat.

His body dips, as Red jumps onto his back, pulling his arm back away from my neck. Another Rager wraps his fingers around her throat and drags her off him, but she’s given me the upper hand, and I twist the blade, sinking the steel into Snaggletooth’s throat.

Hands flying to his neck, he sputters a cough and falls to the side.

I reach across to glide the blade out of his flesh, while he struggles to breathe, and jump to my feet. The Rager atop of Red rips away the front of her shirt. Before I can get to him, though, the third Rager tackles me from the side—a blow that knocks the air from my lungs—and my spine cracks against the rock floor, knocking a gasp from my chest.

His hands wrap around my throat, and stars explode in my eyes with his throttling. Blackness filters in from the fringes as my view begins to shrink, and the first pangs of real fear strike my gut.

This is where I’m going to die.

As quickly as it arrived, the force at my neck lessens. The blackness gives way to clarity.

He lifts his head, as if he hears something.

Sucking in a breath, I push his hand away and watch his nose twitch.

He smells something.

Backing himself off of me, he abandons the attack, and I roll to the side to catch my breath.

I see the other Rager has left Red lying on the ground and tugging the shreds of her shirt to cover herself.

Anna is no longer screaming, and I crane my neck to watch the Rager who had her pinned backing away with the others. They bare their teeth, hissing, and I follow the path of their gaze toward the entrance of the cavern.

A hulking silhouette steps forward.

If I didn’t recognize it, I’d think a much bigger predator had come to stake his claim. But I know the man striding toward us, shoulders bunched, lips peeled back to a snarl, like someone pissed in his canteen.

Rhys.

Flanked at either side of him are Rigs and Scarboy, the quiet one who stood guard outside of Rhys’s room.

I catch another glimpse of the Ragers, who don’t charge toward him as he enters the cavern. They don’t attack, at all, but stand growling and clicking their teeth.

Striding across the space, Rhys comes to a stop in front of me and, without looking at me, reaches for my hand. I take it, allowing him to pull me to a stand.

“You bit?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the three Ragers anxiously pacing in the corner.

“No.”

“Just the three of them?”

“Yes.”

He looks me up and down, and for some reason, his appraisal leaves a trail of shame in its wake. No doubt, he knows what they brought us here for, and though I shouldn’t care what he thinks, I can feel the heat of embarrassment stinging my cheeks. Not for what they planned to do, but because I couldn’t stop them myself.

I cast a glare back at the Ragers, who pace in their small corner.

Intimidated.

I’ve only seen Ragers react that way one time in my whole life.

In the next breath, Rhys lurches forward, and the Rager who attacked me hisses and chatters his teeth in warning. Without hesitation or fear, Rhys accosts the mutilated male and grips his skull before he attacks. One twist and the Rager’s head snaps, dropping him to the floor. Just like that.

Two shots echo inside the cave, as Rigs takes out the other two Ragers. Within seconds, all three are eliminated. The only sounds are Anna’s sniffling and the agonized wails from the back of the cave.

“What about the woman?” Rigs asks.

“Kill her.” As Rhys’s eyes land on me, a third shot silences the pregnant Rager.

* * *

I sitbent forward with my shirt up to my shoulders, while Rhys daubs the wounds on my back. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but watching Rigs put a bullet in the female Rager has troubled me since we returned to the room.

I was fifteen when I lost a baby. One put there by a monster. I guess, in some ways, I felt sorry for her. And the baby was undoubtedly alive, moving around inside the mother’s stomach. “You could’ve … at least waited to see if the baby was uninfected. Maybe she was pregnant before she progressed. Ever think of that?” My argument is weak, though, evident in the frail tone of my voice, and based solely on my emotions.

A flare of a burn streaks across my skin, and I jerk against the rag set along my spine.

“It upset you when Rigs shot her.” It’s not a question, and I can’t tell if there’s sarcasm laced in those words.

As if he’s making fun of my feelings, or something. I feel nothing for the woman herself. I know damn well she’d have struck me down and made a meal out of me, if given the chance, but it was a sucky situation, a symptom of the world and the shitty things that happen in it.

“All of you are a bunch of heartless bastards.”

“So, why didn’t you run, when you had the chance?”

Why didn’t I? It’s the same question that’s been racing through my mind for hours now.

“Because unlike you …” I don’t even know how to answer his question, so I shrug and shake my head. “I should have. I’m stupid, that’s why. If I’d run, I wouldn’t be stuck back in your little harem in the hills.”

“It’s clear you don’t want to be here.”

“Oh, whatever gave you that impression?”

“I’ll return you to the wall myself. Tomorrow morning, we’ll head out.”

My shirt slides down my back, and I kick my head to the side. “Or you could let me go now. Save yourself the gas.”

He pushes to his feet, gathering up the rags and the bowl of whatever concoction he requested from one of the older women in the main cavern. “No. Tomorrow. You need rest.”

“In here? With you? Brilliant. So I get to watch you screw one of your new slaves tonight. Lucky me.”

“No one here is a slave. They come to me willingly.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do. You’ve got a great system of sending Rigs to snatch them up and offer them on a platter. And with Red the guard dog standing by, how could they possibly deny you? What is she, your recruiter? Your own personal cock-stroker?”

“My brother’s wife. She’s only keeping you here because I don’t want you to leave.” After setting the bowl off to the side, he stands with a frown, rubbing the rag across his palm. “You’re the first I’ve wanted to keep.”

“Even more disturbing.”

“Her name’s Leanna.”

“I don’t give a shit what her name is.” I spin back around, facing the wall, irritated by the metal cuffs at my wrists. Again. “I don’t give a shit about any of you. I’ll be counting the minutes until daylight, when I can kiss this nightmare goodbye.”

“Then, how ‘bout you tell me your name? You’re leaving, anyway.”

Head tilted back, I sneer at that. “You want to know my name?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Good. It’s nice knowing I have something you want, but will never have.”

“You have many things I want. But I’ve no intentions of taking them.”

“And I’ve no intentions of saying anything more to you.” I lie down on the woven mat, facing away from him, and tuck my hands beneath my cheek. “I’ll be up first thing in the morning.”

“If that’s your wish. And as for the child, it would’ve been born infected and craving human meat, just like it’s mother.”

* * *

The gruntsand moans tear me from sleep. Just like the night before, Rhys seems to be trapped in some kind of nightmare. Tossing. Turning. Writhing against the blankets.

I sit up to find a blanket has been draped over my body—one I saw in the pile he sleeps on every night. The rain scent has me lifting it to my face, but a flash of him fucking a woman passes through my mind, and I toss it away, kicking it off my body. Women fawn over this man, and no doubt, that blanket’s seen its fair share of body fluids.

Ugh.

Quiet mumbles reach my ears, and I concentrate on them. Words he’s saying in his sleep.

“I luh yi,” he slurs in a drunken sleepy haze. “Ruh. Ruh.”

I listen harder, as his dream seems to be getting more intense.

“Run.”

He repeats the same words over and over, his hips grinding into the blankets beneath him.

“Run.”

Each time the words become harsher, louder, broken by heaving breaths and the wild bucking of his hips.

“Wren! Wren!”

My blood turns cold, and I lie, paralyzed, watching him clutch the blankets in tight fists at his side.

He moans and grunts again. “Wren!”

There’s no mistaking it that time.

He called my name.

Curled into a ball on the ground, I stare at his twitching body, my mind racing with thoughts I can’t even begin to comprehend. Ones that negate the last six years of my life, making every tear I’ve shed suddenly a lie.

Thoughts of a boy I believed dead.

With the icy tendrils of realization creeping over me, I wait to hear my name again.