Chapter 55
CHARLOTTE
T he door slams shut with a loud bang. The girls huddle in the corner, pressed to the cold, hard floor, faces pale with fear.
What. The. Fuck?
My head’s still fuzzy, and the world blurs as I stumble farther into the room.
“I—I thought…”
Tara looks up at me, a cruel smile twisting her lips. “Not so confident now?” she spits.
I raise a brow. I could kill this lanky bitch in seconds.
“Because we’re all in such a fantastic position now,” I mutter, gesturing at the pokey room around us.
“We need to figure a way out,” I tell them, met only with blank stares.
Even when I feel like shit, I still have fight left in me.
“Hello? Did you not just go through the same hell I did? This place is fucked up. We need to get out. Did you read the contract?”
I want to bash their stupid heads against the wall.
“None of this is real,” the redhead whispers nervously.
Wait.
The two at the back.
“Shouldn’t you be in the final room? You won the last game. I tapped out.”
A shrug. A look of pure terror. A visible shiver.
“The guards said the games were over and brought us here,” one of them whispers.
Confusion coils in my gut.
“The gunshot was fake. To make you think we were dead. But they didn’t kill us,” Tara says.
“Yet,” I snap.
I’ve dealt with assholes like this my whole life. We’re probably just fucking lab rats now.
“Is that what you want? To be owned like a fucking slave? Because I don’t see them ever letting us out.”
The words hit hard. Property of Decadence. It’s what the contract said.
The contestant from the second room starts crying, bottom lip trembling. I almost feel sorry for her.
Almost.
There’s no room for sympathy. Only survival.
I’m not leaving Isabella behind. Not like this.
“Maybe… it’d be better than living at home.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but her face says everything. Broken. Familiar.
I see myself in her pain.
“Who made you sign the contract?” I ask, taking a step forward.
“My stepdad.”
I swallow the rising lump in my throat as she looks away.
I crouch down beside her. Dignity left the second we stepped through those gates.
“If we work together and get out, we can escape them. Your family. I can make that happen.”
Her hand trembles as she wipes away tears. I clasp it, grounding her.
“We can do this. Just trust me.”
I scan the others. Tara’s face flushes with rage.
“Daddy wouldn’t hurt me. This is just a game. You’re going to ruin it for us!” She stomps like a toddler.
I ignore her.
Then one of the girls from the last room steps forward—dark-haired, eyes downcast.
“My husband sent me. If I won, he’d get more money and power. I thought if I got the money, I could run and never look back.”
A sad shrug. “But clearly, I didn’t read the contract properly.”
I nod. Makes sense.
“What’s your name?”
“Emma.”
I pause, remembering the cameras. “Ebony,” I say with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
I turn to the rest of them.
“Jess,” the redhead says.
“Rebecca,” the blonde adds.
“Okay. So you all read what happens to the losers, right?”
Jess chews her lip and nods.
“That’s illegal. Daddy would never do that to me!” Tara whines.
Perfect. Delusion makes her dangerous.
“Well, news flash. He did. And now we deal with it. Your daddy is a power-hungry monster who sacrificed his own daughter. Get your head out of the clouds.”
Her face twists. “What? Your daddy didn’t love you?”
Rage blinds me.
I lunge.
My hand wraps around her throat as I slam her against the wall. The others gasp.
“Keep talking, and I’ll end you before they get the chance.”
She gasps, clawing at my hand. I squeeze harder.
“Now sit down. Shut up. And do what I say.”
I release her, letting her crumple. She whines, hands to her neck like a child.
Before I speak, the door bursts open.
A masked man stands there. Different from the others.
“You.” His deep voice makes my heart stutter.
“Who, me?” I ask, all innocence.
The games didn’t work.
Now I play my own.
One chance left.
Survive.
“Yeah,” he grunts.
He steps closer, and I assess. Pistol on his right. Knife at his waist. Handcuffs clipped to his belt.
I let him get close. Close enough to smell the cigarettes on his breath.
He’s wary of me, I can see it in his stance. His hand lashes out, fingers splayed, but I anticipate his move and swerve, the rush of his movement brushing against my arm. I can feel the heat of his anger. Driving my heel into the back of his knee with every ounce of strength I possess, the impact sends him sprawling onto the hard ground.
With my right arm wrapped around his throat, I secure it in place with my left hand, applying pressure to the right spot on his neck.
“Grab the fucking key!” I scream.
Emma scrambles forward, trying to grab the key, but this asshole reaches out, violently tugging on her hair, easily throwing her to one side. Jess reacts instantly, claws extended, and scratches his face. My muscles scream at me as I tighten my grip. As Jess holds up the key, I grab him by the hair and push him down on his front, sitting on his back, digging my knee into his spine.
“Cuffs,” I shout, and Emma’s shaky hands find them and hand them to me.
“He’s too strong,” Jess whispers through gritted teeth.
I pull back his head.
“You fucking bitch,” he seethes.
I need to speed this up, so I smash his face into the concrete, hard enough to knock him out. He goes limp beneath me, and the girls get to work.
Jumping off him, I roll him over with a grunt, swiping the gun first, then the blade and chain of keys.
Making a run for the door, I stop as I swing it open.
“You coming?” I ask them.
Emma shakes her head. Tara is a shaking mess in the corner. Visions of Isabella flood my mind.
I don’t have time for this. But they need some sort of weapon; they helped me.
“Here.”
I toss the gun at Emma’s feet, slam the door closed, and stop at the first corner.
I look up as the red dot flashes on the camera.
Maybe he will come to me.
As I reach the door, I stop, remembering the way we got in.
With a grunt, I roll this guy over and flick open the knife.
“Emma. Hold his palm down hard,” I order.
Despite trembling, she manages to maintain her composure as I open the flick knife and begin cutting through his thumb.
“You’re a fucking psycho,” Tara cries out.
To make the task easier, I snap the bone before finally grasping his thumb in my hand.
“I’ll cut yours off if you want.” I grin at her.
She shakes her head and backs off.
If these girls don’t want freedom, that’s fine. I will not sit here and wait for my death.
I head back to the door and close it as I exit.
Survive hell and find The Master.
Although, I very much expect he’s already on his way to me.