Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Something felt wrong.
Emma couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was, but she had this awful, churning feeling in her stomach. A knot of anxiety that only grew worse with each second that ticked by.
It started when Nathan didn't bring breakfast this morning.
When she woke up with a soft pillow beneath her cheek and a blanket tucked around her, for one beautiful but heartbreaking second, she thought she was at home in her bed.
Reality had crashed in quickly, but appreciation for Nathan snagging her these things that had become luxuries in this place had also washed over her.
But that tiny bit of comfort the blanket and pillow had given her soon faded away when Mateo brought the trolley with the breakfasts.
He didn't comment on the bedding, and he didn't get angry with her when she wouldn't fix her gaze on the floor, seemingly satisfied that she was on her knees, but it wasn't the same as seeing Nathan.
Where was he?
Had something happened?
Was he okay?
What if he’d been discovered? What if the camera really had been on last night, and they’d seen him being gentle with her, holding her in the bed while she slept, and they’d suspected something wasn't right? Maybe he’d been punished …
or worse, killed, because they found out he was an undercover operative working to destroy the operation from the inside out.
Now everything was quiet, minutes continued to tick by, no one had come down there, and the women all sat silently in their cells. Waiting. For fate to catch up with them and throw them into a nightmare none of them could fully fathom.
A fate they were only escaping because of Nathan.
As badly as she wanted to let them know the truth.
That safety was almost within their grasp, and that when they were sold, Nathan would tell them to hold on because help was coming, she knew it would put them all in danger.
If Azure knew they had a traitor, there was nothing stopping them from cutting their losses, killing all of them, and then disappearing and setting up again somewhere else.
You can't be dead, Nathan. I need you.
No sooner had she whispered the words in her mind than she heard the elevator doors opening. Her head snapped in that direction, and she hoped it was Nathan’s calming light brown eyes she was going to see, his short dark hair that was always slightly mussed since he usually wore a hoodie.
But it wasn't Nathan. It was William and Deacon, and it looked as though they were heading right for her.
Pressing back against the cold concrete wall of her cell, that swirling in her gut turned into a virtual tornado of fear. Something was definitely happening, and it looked like she was at the center of it.
If there was any doubt about that, it evaporated when they stopped outside her cell.
The smiles on their faces, smirks was a more accurate term, were aimed squarely at her, and there was a meanness to them that told her whatever she’d been through so far was nothing compared to what was coming next.
“Come, one three nine,” William ordered.
She just glared. “It’s Emma.”
“Sure it is,” William said, violence glistening in his stormy gray eyes as he unlocked her cage and stepped inside. This was a man who enjoyed hurting others. He didn't do it because he had to, he didn't even do it as a show of power, he did it simply because he wanted to.
“It is, and you know it,” she snapped, a little belligerently, and she was pretty sure a punishment was coming and that this time Nathan wouldn't be rescuing her. Wouldn't be there to hold her afterward either.
William just laughed as he stalked toward her.
Never in her life had Emma felt more like prey than she did in this moment.
Since there was nowhere for her to go, she just glared at him and tried not to hyperventilate.
When he reached her, his large hands curled around her biceps, and he dragged her out from under the blanket, shoving her up against the wall hard enough that her head smacked into it, and her feet dangled off the floor.
“One three nine, you're about to learn you won't even have a number anymore. You're nothing. Just a toy, a plaything for your new owner.”
“My new owner?” Of course, Emma knew that she was there to be trained and sold, but that sounded more definite than hypothetical. Like she had already been sold, already had an owner.
Another dark chuckle fell from his lips as Deacon stood in the doorway to her cell, grinning at her. Something truly awful was brewing, and she wanted to scream for Nathan, but if he wanted to be here, he would be. He hadn't come this morning, and he likely wasn't coming now.
She was on her own.
“You're going to auction, one three nine,” Deacon informed her, sounding thrilled about the prospect.
“Wait. What? Already? But I'm not … trained.”
“This particular auction is for, how shall we say it? Rowdy slaves,” Deacon said.
“You lucked out, one three nine, you and I didn't get a chance to become well acquainted,” William drawled, still holding her against the wall. His breath heavy with the scent of cigarettes, puffed against her skin, making her nose curl.
If she was going to an auction, that meant they were moving her somewhere else.
Unless there was a room in the building where they held them?
Regardless, they were taking her out of the cell, and there was nowhere in the basement that you could hold an auction, so she was at least being taken to another floor.
Could she find a way to escape?
They thought that she was at least somewhat compliant after Hank locked her in that hellish box. If she pretended to be compliant, could she lull them into a false sense of security, and then make a run for it when an opportunity presented itself?
She’d have to fight a little, otherwise she’d give herself away, so to that end, Emma swung her foot at William’s shins, connecting, although the man didn't even flinch.
“Not too late to have a little fun with you in the car, one three nine,” he told her as he slammed her head into the wall again.
That was probably the only thing that stopped her from grinning like an idiot. A car meant going outside, there was never going to be a more perfect opportunity to try to escape.
Pretending the blows to the head had disoriented her, Emma hung in William’s hold as he dragged her out of the cell and down the hall toward the elevator.
She was still naked, and she didn't know if the plan was to dress her first, but she really didn't care.
There was no embarrassment left about her body after spending almost a week completely naked.
Anxiety buzzed beneath her skin and tension bunched her muscles. She wanted to make her move, but she had to wait, had to make it count because she was only going to get one go at this. The three of them entered the elevator and took it up a floor into a large garage.
This was no good.
Unless there were keys in one of the half dozen vehicles, she wasn't going to be able to get away.
“Car’s outside already,” Deacon told William, who grunted and tightened his grip on her arm.
Perfect.
After days without natural light, Emma blinked in the sudden sunlight, relishing the feel of the sun warming her skin. There was no way she was going back into the darkness.
There was gravel on the ground, which might be something she could use. A rough plan formed in her mind, and she prayed that she could pull it off.
“I think I'm going to be sick,” she mumbled, playing up the head injury, which wasn't more than a bump, not that the guys knew that.
Pressing a hand to her stomach, she made a gagging sound, and William practically threw her away from him.
Fine with her.
The bite of the gravel in her knees and palms as she went down hard barely registered. She continued to gag and hunched over, then, using her body to shield what her hands were doing, she grabbed as much gravel as she could and waited until William moved in close.
“Hurry up,” he snapped. “We don’t have all day.”
He leaned in, and she acted. Flinging the gravel at his face, she got him right in the eyes, making him howl.
Without hesitating, Emma took off for the road.
She didn't make it far.
Deacon yelled and raced after her, grabbing her, overbalancing them both, and they went down. His grip on her wasn't secure, and Emma was able to kick out, skimming her foot across his groin, making him yelp. Slamming her elbow back, it connected with his nose, and she heard him scream.
When he released her, she scrambled back to her feet and took off again.
Her feet pounded the ground, the gravel cutting into them, but she didn't have time to worry about that. She had to make it to a road, pray that a passing car might spot her, and she could flag it down.
Behind her, more footsteps sounded.
They were coming.
Gaining on her.
Pushing herself harder, she felt the lost weight from lack of food, the tightness in her muscles from lack of use, the lingering pain from her punishments, it was making her slower than she’d usually be, weaker, with less stamina.
The road came into view.
A car was zipping down it.
She lifted her hands.
Waved them.
Then someone slammed into her from behind, shoving the air from her lungs as they landed on top of her.
From the stink of cigarettes, she knew it was William. His fingers tangled in her hair, and he yanked her head all the way back before slamming it down into the unforgiving ground, and the world dissolved into nothingness.
August 5th
2:18 P.M.
Driving the car into the garage, Nathan had to drag in a few deep breaths to get his temper under control.
To say he was in a bad mood just might be the understatement of the century.
The morning had been one mess after another after another, and he was ready to jump in the shower, change out of his now filthy clothes, and head down to the basement to check on Emma.