CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

MIRA

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They take up the entire cabin.

With Christian and Daniel, their massive size made me feel small and protected. With Lucy’s brothers, it’s the exact opposite.

They do not want to protect me. They’re not going to make sure I eat and get sleep. They are definitely not going to care if I have a nightmare or if I’m home alone at night. These two only want one thing from me and they do not care how they get it, even if they break me in the process.

“Don’t do this,” I try, voice begging. “Please.”

A large part of my brain is screaming for me to get off the chair, to not sit here like a fucking idiot where they can get me, but where the hell am I supposed to run? The entire room consists of a bunk bed in one corner, a tiny kitchen in the other and a doorway leading into a bathroom that has no door; what kind of bathroom has no door?

There is nowhere to go, unless I run outside and hopefully die in one of their traps.

“I get her first,” Dirk announces, eyes burning into me. “Lucy said.”

“No!” the other one barks back. “You break them too quickly. I never get to have fun.”

That doesn’t seem to bother Dirk when he shrugs a beefy shoulder. “I’m older. You get my hand-me-downs.”

“Come on, Dirk. Let me go first this one time. Please? I’ll do your dishes for a week.”

Dirk seems to really consider this offer while he begins the process of emptying his pockets onto the table. Loose coins scatter across the wood. A phone is dropped down next to them.

Tufty hurriedly follows suit, dumping a pack of crushed cigarettes, a crumpled wad of bills, a fistful of keys, and another phone next to the pile.

“Come on, Dirk,” he continues to plead.

“But you don’t make them scream right.”

“I will. I promise I will. Just like you do. Promise.” Tufty puts both hands up in a weird cross between scout’s honor and the Vulcan salute.

Can I even make it to the door? I can’t go straight forward and if I make a wide arc, they’ll catch me.

Door is out of the question. There are two windows, one over the bunk, the other over the sink, but there’s no way I’ll get through them without getting caught.

“Okay, you can go first this time,” Dirk grumbles.

Tufty squeaks like a child being told they’d have ice cream before supper. He rounds on me, and I feel the cold rush of terror surge through me.

“What’s your names?” I blurt, going for kindness over yelling and threatening. “You never told me. I’m Mira.”

“Shut your mouth,” Dirk snaps. “We’re not stupid. We know what you’re trying to do. It’s not going to work.” He faces his brother. “Go on. Get on with it, Boyd.”

My limbs find their purpose and I leap off the chair. There isn’t far to go before he’s charging at me, beefy frame moving much too fast. My scream is ignored with the hard clamp of his fingers around my injured arm. The searing pain nearly sends me to my knees. I fight the black fingers of darkness creeping around the edges of my vision, knowing if I pass out, I will not want to wake up ever again.

“Don’t struggle,” Tufty — Boyd — says giving me a shake that sends my stomach crawling up into my throat. The very air drowns me in a muggy heat that stinks of bad odor and mold. “It just makes things harder for everyone.”

I kick out with my foot, aiming for his crotch and getting his calf. It barely seems to register to him when he shoves me with one arm down on the mildewy mattress.

Sharp, jagged coils gouge into my back and dig into my side upon impact. I bounce once before he’s staggering towards me, hands at his pants. My mouth opens. I think I’m thinking of screaming or begging. Not sure what I’m supposed to be doing because lying here isn’t it when the bottle registers.

The beer.

It’s still in my hand. How the hell is it still in my hand? My fingers seem to have a death grip on the neck, and I do the only thing that comes to mind.

I swing.

I put my whole weight behind it and shut my eyes as it collides with the side of his head with a resounding and gut churning crack. The explosion showers me in warm, sticky beer and shards of glass. It rains over my face and soaks my shirt. The splintered top remains in my white knuckled grip, a serrated weapon I grip tighter.

Boyd bellows, but he’s still upright. Only now he’s pissed.

Heart hammering, I thrust upwards. I drive with all my strength straight under his chin. Into his jugular.

The liquid that gushes out isn’t pale gold, but scarlet red and scalding hot. It explodes with a ferocity I don’t expect. It arcs into the air even as Boyd chokes and wheezes, and stumbles back clutching at his throat.

“Boyd!” Dirk howls, the sound a high pitch shriek of raw agony as he lunges for his brother.

The two fall into each other and collapse across the floor in a bloody heap. Dirk is still wailing and screaming. The sound bouncing off the walls.

I don’t wait. I don’t even glance back when rolling off the ruined mattress and pounding to the door. I only stop to grab both phones and the keys on my way. Clutching them to my thundering heart like my only lifeline.

The cold, brass handle wrenches too easily under my slick grip. It swings too easily with my yank. I’m on the front steps and no one stops me as I leap off and tear around the side of the house in no real direction, except freedom.

The items in my hand are slippery with blood, but I clasp them to my chest and round in the direction of where I remember them parking the car.

But I don’t make it.

I hear Dirk’s roar just behind me and I know he’s about to catch me. There is no way I can outrun him, not barefoot and half naked when it’s almost dark and I’m covered in blood.

Somewhere, briefly, a tiny flicker, I am aware that I am unnaturally rational in a time of absolute chaos. Another part of me wants to fall apart, to collapse in a ball and cry.

It’s Daniel and Christian’s faces that reminds me I need to get through this. I need to get back to them. I need to save them from that conniving, crazy fucking bitch. More than that, I need to get my hands on Lucy. I need to punch her face in and that thirst for vengeance keeps me going.

Panting, I dive around the corner of the house and nearly trip over a cellar door built into the side of the lodge. There’s no chain or lock and opens quietly when I yank the latch.

I can hear Dirk thundering after me, getting close. I just get the latch closed behind me when I spot his shape bolt around the corner.

The cellar is pitch black and I nearly break an ankle getting down the rotting stairs. Several of the boards groan and dip as if unsure of my weight, but I hit the cold, stone floor and pause as the putrid stench of raw, festering meat hits my nostrils. It rolls down my throat to fill my lungs, burn my eyes. I’m gagging and trying not to make a sound as I use my good hand to cover my mouth and try not to throw up.

What the fuck?

Fighting to breathe through my mouth, I reach down and poke one of the phone screens and find the flashlight option with a bloody finger. Sickly, yellow light explodes from the device and spills across a grimy floor littered with mouse shit, filth, debris, and thick, dark puddles.

Dragging my top collar up over my nose, I lift the light.

I barely stifle my scream.

Barely.

It lodges on my tongue, a bomb waiting to detonate, and I regret ever climbing down here.

Rows upon rows. Dozens.

Girls.

Girls hanging off meat hooks dangling from sagging rafters.

So many. In all races and ages and varying degrees of decomposition. All naked, filthy, covered in blood and bruises. Milky eyes open and staring. Jaws unhinged.

Someone moans, a horrific sound that nearly has my bladder emptying before I realize it’s coming from me, and I have to clap my trembling hand over my mouth.

I hadn’t asked when they mentioned other girls. I hadn’t wanted to know where they came from or what happened to them. Not because I don’t care, but because I wouldn’t know what to do with that information and I’m right. Staring into their vacant eyes, their pasty complexions, I don’t know what to do.

Shuffling outside has me forgetting my fears. I switch off the light and plunge headlong through the rotting corpses. Their clammy flesh brushes my face, my arms. I want to gag, but I bottle it all up until I hit the very back corner of the room. Trapping myself, but also making myself as tiny as possible against the slimy wall.

I’m watching the hatch, the faint slivers of barely noticeable light dwindling, an ominous reminder that I’m about to be trapped in a freezing cellar with a dozen corpses of the girls killed before me in the dark. I’m trying really hard not to break down, but the longer I sit there, staring at their dangling feet, the more hysterical I can feel myself becoming.

Which is why, when one of the phones in my hand springs to life and lights up, I do soil myself. The sour stench mixes with all the other smells, but I barely notice when turning the device over in my hand to peer at the caller.

Jay .

I don’t know who that is, but I swipe answer.

“Where are you?” a male voice demands almost immediately.

“Hello?” I breathe as low as I can drop my voice. “Please, you have to help me.”

There’s a pause then, “Who is this?”

I glance up at the hatch, half expecting Dirk to be standing there, watching me through the maze of bodies.

Nothing.

“My ... my name is Mira Celestino. I’ve been kidnapped. I’m in a hunting lodge—”

“Oh, fuck.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at it, heart hammering, tears prickling.

No. No! I will not cry. I won’t. I need to keep my shit together. I need to get home to my boys.

Sucking it up, I poke the screen. The phone that had rung has a lock. Useless to me. The other one doesn’t.

I steal a peek at the hatch.

Still nothing.

I swipe the phone open and dial 911 .

It rings.

Loses connection.

I stare at the zero bars.

“No!” I whine.

I am crying now. I can’t stop it. The tears run down my face in hot streaks. Whoever Jay is, isn’t going to help me. Christian and Daniel have no idea where I am. Lucy is going to hurt them and I’m in a basement full of broken girls.

I’m not getting out of this. There’s no way.

And as if the universe agrees with me, the hatch flies open, and the dark opening is flooded with sharp, blinding light.