Chapter 1
ONE
I wake to the sound of screaming and blink my eyes open. My head is pounding, and I’m nauseous. This isn’t surprising since the last thing I remember before passing out is being injected. That was in the space station’s medical bay.
Where am I now?
With my hands clasping my temples, I turn my head toward the noise. I recognize the voice. It belongs to Rava. Apparently, she was also forcibly removed from the space station.
Bile rises into my throat as I take in my surroundings. I’m in a cage like the kind zoo animals would be kept in. Lions. Tigers. Bears. The room is huge and filled with iron boxes like mine. They hang from the ceiling. We’re suspended above the ground.
I’m freezing, and I need to pee. I’m also shivering, perhaps from the cold, but also from dehydration and hunger.
My body feels heavy. It’s too much effort to lift my head off the metal base of my cage.
How long have I been here? More importantly, how long has it been since I was taken from the space station?
From the other side of the room, male voices speaking a language I don’t understand make my skin crawl. I watch in horror as two huge men open the cage Rava is in. They grab her biceps and carry her, kicking and wailing, from the room.
I’m suffering from extreme nausea. It’s hard to see well from this distance, but I think Rava is covered in vomit and urine. I can smell both. It’s making me feel worse.
With my nose pinched, I try to breathe through my mouth, irrationally grateful when I can no longer hear Rava’s protests.
She’s stronger than me. More defiant. I don’t have it in me to be that obstinate. Sure, I’m scared, but shouting at my captors doesn’t seem to be the best course of action.
A whimper draws my attention to another cage.
Lyra. Darn. How many of us were transported at the same time?
I push to sitting. Why is it still so hard to hold my head up?
I’m straining to see my friend. She, too, is in a cage hanging from the ceiling in another part of the room. She looks about the same as I feel.
I want to call out to her, but the thought of doing so makes me afraid I’ll hurl. I need to get my stomach under control before I attempt to talk.
I’ve never felt so awful in my entire life. After lowering to my side, I tuck my knees under my dress and pull them up to my chest. The hard metal is uncomfortable, and I’m so very cold. My teeth are chattering.
The only things I’m wearing are a thin dress that falls to my knees and panties. I had shoes on when I was taken, but they’re gone now.
My dark hair is still in a thick braid, its tail is lying across my shoulder. I’m tempted to take it down and drape it around me for warmth, but I don’t want to move.
After several minutes, Lyra calls out to me, “Zoey?”
“I’m here,” I mumble.
“Where are we?” Her voice is weak.
Suddenly, a loud noise fills the room. A siren of some sort. It’s blaring so obnoxiously that my head pounds harder. I cover my ears, but there’s no way to block the piercing sound.
When it stops, I blow out a breath and try to control my nerves. I’m still in danger of vomiting.
“What was that?” Lyra asks.
The alarm starts again, and I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, willing it to stop.
This time, it lasts longer. Several minutes pass before we’re graced with silence again. My ears are ringing from the residual effect of the horrifying blare as if it’s still happening.
Neither of us speaks for a while. I assume Lyra is just as discombobulated as I am, trying to gather her wits and control the need to throw up.
“Zoey,” Lyra finally whines.
Instantly, the alarm sounds again. Is it louder? It hurts. My teeth clench as I squeeze my ears. I’m so uncomfortable. I ache all over, and my body is trembling violently.
It occurs to me that the blaring noise happens whenever one of us speaks. Perhaps it’s meant to keep us from talking. The thought sends another chill down my spine. It’s not a good sign if our captors won’t let us communicate with each other.
When the alarm ceases again—after what seems like forever—I don’t dare utter a word. I hope Lyra won’t, either. The only way to be sure the warning is directed at us is to keep mum and find out.
Minutes go by. Ten. Twenty. I don’t know how long. I don’t feel better. The nausea might be subsiding, but my head hurts even more. I need water. And a bathroom.
At the sound of a door opening somewhere in this…warehouse, I don’t dare move an inch. Voices echo in the vast space. Two guards approach me.
I flinch when one of the black-clad men opens my cage. He drops two items inside, locks me back up, and turns to walk away.
I’m so stunned that I don’t even react or move until it’s almost too late. The two of them are leaving.
“Wait!” I cry out. “Please—” My voice is abruptly cut off when the alarm sounds again.
I sit upright, press my hands over my ears, and close my eyes. It hurts. Everything hurts. Tears roll down my face. My head is so heavy.
It’s not until the blaring noise stops again that I dare lower my hands and blink my eyes open. My breath hitches as I see what’s been placed in the cage. A bottle that’s filled with a white liquid, and…
Oh no.
A diaper.
Not the sort that would fit a baby. It’s my size.
I jerk my gaze toward the cage where Lyra is being held, but she’s on the other side of the room. There are too many bars and cages in the way for me to see if she, too, was given these items. I don’t dare ask since I’m certain the alarm is activated when either of us dares to speak out loud.
My bladder makes itself known. I squeeze my legs together to keep from peeing myself. Did the guards know that? Is that why they brought me a diaper?
And what about the bottle? It’s also something a baby would use. It even has a nipple, except once again, it’s sized for me. Not an infant.
I lie on my side, ignoring the two items. Or, at least, trying to. It’s hard to focus on anything for long. My mind wanders between how badly I need to pee, how thirsty I am, my hollow grumbling stomach, the pounding behind my temples, how cold I am, the nausea I’m holding at bay, and hopelessness.
I refuse to deal with the bottle and diaper. I’m not a baby. Do these men think I am? They shouldn’t. I assume every Venkorian man I’ve seen so far is in his mid-thirties. I haven’t seen anyone who looks older or younger.
I also haven’t seen any women. Where are the women?
My body flinches when I hear another scream. I lift my head a few inches to see that Lyra is being removed from her cage. Two guards in black carry her out the same way they did Rava—by the arms, her body dangling.
It’s humiliating, and I’m scared out of my mind.
Time ticks by. My headache never lets up. I know why. I’m so thirsty. Besides the fact that I have no idea how long I’ve been gone from the space station, the drugs they injected me with might also be contributing to my thirst.
And my headache.
I’m alone. No one is left. The room is so quiet. I can hear myself breathing. My heart seems loud. My teeth are chattering—the clicking sounds like rapid typing in the silence.
When I think I can manage to sit upright without vomiting, I do so. I rise onto my knees and try to see my surroundings, moving around my suspended cage, craning my neck in every direction.
Where is everyone? Why have they all been taken, leaving me behind?
I don’t even know if I should be grateful to be the last woman in this hell. Maybe wherever the others have been taken is a fate worse than this cage.
I think back to the girls who disappeared from the space station before me: Adryn, Isla, Luna, Leah… There were more, including Lyra and Rava. Are they alive or dead?
Unfortunately, I’ve read some books about aliens. Fiction meant to depict beings who are not real. No one on Earth had ever truly spotted an alien.
The aliens in books were usually blue with strange, huge heads, long necks, big eyes, and webbed hands and feet. Sometimes they had tentacles or multiple arms. I’ve never read about aliens who looked like super-large human males. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of human men. They weren’t this big.
It’s been a long time since anyone came into this warehouse.
No more girls from the space station have arrived, but neither have any of the guards.
I’ve lost sense of time. There are no windows, so I don’t have a clue whether it’s day or night.
I don’t even know if I’m on another ship or on a planet.
What I do know is that I won’t risk speaking, and I have to pee worse than ever. I have two options: wet myself or put the diaper on. I’ll still be peeing myself if I wear it, but at least the absorbent material will keep me from sitting in a puddle of my own urine in this cage.
I have another problem: What if someone walks in while I’m removing my panties or putting on the diaper? I’d be mortified. But it can’t be helped.
Eventually, I reach under my dress and pull my panties to my knees. Next, I lie on my back to shrug them the rest of the way off. I’m shaking as I tuck the diaper under my hips, bring it between my legs, and fasten it.
It’s extremely thick, much more than I anticipated. I can’t close my legs. The material is forcing my thighs to remain wide.
While staring at the top of the cage, I try to relax my bladder. It’s not easy. I haven’t peed in this position since I was an infant. I could sit up, but that seems like it would be worse. Icky.
Finally, I inhale deeply and release my bladder. I have to go so badly that it seems I’ll never stop. When I finally do, I’m relieved, but also faced with a new problem: I’m wearing a soaking wet diaper.
It’s disgusting. I want it off. What if I need to pee again? Will someone bring me another one? I can’t predict the future, but I refuse to lie here soaking in my urine, so I rip off the tabs, pull the hateful diaper away, and quickly put my panties back on.
There will be no replacing it. The tape was ruined when I removed the tabs. If I need to go again, I’ll be stuck. I find myself wondering how absorbent the material is? Could I squat over it and let it soak up my urine each time I need to pee?
My humiliation is real.