Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
The heat radiating from my injuries registers long before consciousness does.
My sleeping mind must not know what to do with it, because it starts emerging in my dream.
The dollhouse, ever present, slams shut on me, and the pain is so intense that I can’t find the desire to try and escape.
I just lie there defeated as I’m plunged into the dark.
Eventually I become aware that I’m lying on something cold and metallic. I shiver, the pain rolling through my muscles, except now it feels different. Stronger, less vague and more peaked in my ribs and temple.
I’m awake.
There’s a splitting ache in my head and my breath catches as I try to take inventory of my body and injuries.
There’s dried blood on my wrists, though the ties have been cut while I was out.
Deep bruising covers my rib cage, explaining the sting when I breathe, and my face feels swollen.
I’ll have to wait to find out the damage caused by the boot.
My eyes flutter open when I remember Bo and the first thing I see is the man from before standing a foot away. A weird metal grid mars his face and he watches me with pleasure as it dawns on me that I’m in a cage.
Jaw clenching, I try like hell to remain stoic as I grapple with this nightmare. He trapped us. How can we even fight if we’re locked up?
The man's eyes crawl across my body as he crouches down and reaches through the bars. Every part of me tightens, fearing another punch, but he simply flicks something around my neck. There’s a small tink, and with horror I see the Christmas ribbon Bo had fixed around my neck has been replaced by a dog’s collar.
“I’m assigned to watch you..” His eyes eat up my horror. “Lucky me.”
“B-Bo,” I croak, trying to look around my guard to see the rest of the room. It’s dark, with concrete walls and a rough, black tiled floor. It’s either harder to see in here or the blow to my head has messed with my vision. I struggle to focus on the cage across the room. “Are you okay?”
He nods his head and my eyes well up when I see the same collar around his neck. His normally wild curls are matted with blood and his face is a mess. Dried red stains cover his body.
I can see from here that his beating was worse than mine and hot tears of regret burn little trails down to my jaw. “Your head?”
He licks his lips, flinching, then shakes it slowly. Something’s very wrong. I can see it in his behavior.
Had it only been yesterday we’d woken up at the cabin? Eons of pain have crammed themselves into this time and they’ve done a perfect job of making us feel isolated. Unsavable. Jesse would rip the world to pieces to save Bo, but right now that feels so impossible.
Knowing him, and knowing Noah, I understand that planning is the only way to try and save us.
Things have spiraled so quickly, it occurs to me that time might not be something we have much of.
The men here seem determined to either beat us into submission or are just doing it for fun.
Either way, Bo’s definitely hurt much worse than I can see and I’m locked in a cage where I can’t get to him.
“Try to rest,” I say, knowing it sounds stupid. How could he? But he nods at me like it’s good advice and when he does, I spot something silver behind his head. It looks kind of like a bowl.
My stomach drops, and I peek behind me to see the same. Two bowls, complete with the engraved bone on front. One with water, and one sitting empty.
Dog bowls.
It’s almost indescribable, the gut punch that comes right after it becomes clear we’re going to be subjected to complete degradation while we’re here.
Bundy didn’t just bring us here to use us, or to upset the Finches.
This is a humiliation ritual and one I can’t see a way out of.
Looking at my cage, the collar tightens as my throat clenches.
What would Noah think if he could see me now?
Shame licks at my skin and I drop my head. Abstractly, I’d known that Mercy avenged the victims of men like this. I knew they hunted monsters but I’d never been able to quite picture what the monsters looked like.
Suddenly, I’m surrounded by them.
I look back up and Bo fiercely studies my face. The protective flair rises and I try to hide my turmoil. If nothing else, I can try to keep him calm.
“Remember the last time we were at work with each other?” I ask.
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have, but he humors me anyway. “Yeah. I was so hungover,” he rasps.
I laugh. “We had no idea what was coming when we went to work that day.”
He tries to smile back at me, then flinches in pain and my heart sinks.
“Everything can change in a minute, can't it?” His voice is barely a whisper, the defeat heavy in each word.
I nod. “I’m sorry, Bo. If you hadn’t been there with me you’d probably be at home right now.”
His brow furrows, and he shifts closer to the bars, though it’s clearly painful for him to do so.
“I’ve never once regretted being there with you or anything that happened after.
I barely hung on for so many years, working for Eric and needing to keep him in my life to pay my rent.
” He bites his lip, that vulnerability back on his face that had finally started going away in the last few months.
“I was never able to get rid of that feeling of being stained by him.” He tries to smile.
“He might have fucked me up more than I thought.”
I curl up on my side, reaching one hand out as if he could take it. As if we could hold on to each other somehow, to keep our heads above water. “I get it, Bo.”
“Oh no, I see we’ve interrupted quite the little psychotherapy session.”
The crooning voice makes my stomach clench, and my head snaps toward the doorway.
It’s Eric, and seeing him sends a jolt through my body. He freezes, standing right next to Bundy and staring straight at me. I hate him. The strength of it is staggering, but I can’t seem to break the stare-off.
His eyes are wide, taking in the sight of my complete humiliation, but he stays silent at Bundy’s heel.
“Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable. Perfect.
My two newest pets,” Bundy starts, that half grin on his face as he walks toward a leather loveseat to the side of the door.
“I gave you an easy day to acclimate, but that is now coming to an end.” He steeples his hands, looking back and forth between my cage and Bo’s, before pointing at his. “Please release him.”
He beckons for Eric as he takes a seat, telling him to follow suit.
Coward. It should be shocking to see him here, to see him taking orders from such a terrible person.
Every truth I’ve discovered in the last few months has killed the love I had for him.
God, I was such a stupid, doting wife. Loyal to a fault.
I rotted in that house silently as he played wingman to a psychopathic sex trafficker.
Cutting my eyes to Bo, my heart flies. Release him? It’s obvious they won’t let us go and suddenly leaving the cage seems dangerous. “Bo,” I call. I don’t even know what words to use for this situation, I just need him to know that I’m right here. He’s not alone.
A guard leans down and reaches for the padlock. Bo snaps. The quickness of his attack surprises everyone considering how much of a mess he is, and yet his fist smashes into the guard’s knee, causing him to stumble backward.
My mouth drops open, watching in horror as Bo attempts to scramble through the low door to the cage, when he’s snapped up by the hoard of guards that seem to hover in every room.
“Bo,” I scream, hands tangled in the bars, rattling as if I could force the thing to break apart. “Bo, please don’t fight them.”
He ignores me, snarling as he cracks his head back, breaking the nose of the man who holds him in a bear grip. Blood sprays across his hair as a second guard punches him in the side of the face.
Screaming, I try to bash the door to my cage, my forearm burning with each new attempt. I need to get to him, he’s mine to protect. It’s my job to keep him safe.
My Bo. Blood drips from his busted lips, eyes hazy as he struggles to keep himself from falling.
Turning on Eric, I level him with my fury. “Do something! That’s your family, how can you just watch this?”
He simply stares back at me, silent. Eyes slightly wider than normal, as if he’s surprised that any of this is happening.
A lackluster groan pulls my attention back to Bo, only to see him curled forward, barely clinging to consciousness.
“Bo, please stop fighting them. Can you hear me? Are you okay?” I snarl at my guard when he bangs the cage as if to tell me to be quiet.
Bo turns to me, a tired, bloody smile slashed across his handsome face. I know he’s in deep pain, but that tiny defiant spark in his eyes is exactly what I needed to see. He’s still fighting, and that means I need to do the same. “Yeah, honey. Can’t make it too easy, can I?”
He sounds just like Jesse and I choke back my sob.
“Yes, yes. Moving on. We’re here for a reason and I’ve got a packed schedule. Eric?”
Eric stands, sniffing as he turns to a cabinet hanging behind the seats he and Bundy have taken up.
Pulling open the wooden doors, I swallow as a wide array of crops and whips are revealed.
All different lengths and widths hang inside and Eric studies each with the same indifference I've seen him use when checking our fridge for something to eat. The surprise at seeing us here must have faded and it’s with a cool detachment that he decides on a neatly coiled whip before he turns to Bo.
The ashen look on his face shatters any composure I have left to me. “If you do this, I’ll kill you,” I say, surprising even myself. The truth in my words is undeniable, steady and honest. I don’t know how, but that doesn’t matter much.
“A hellcat,” Bundy laughs, slapping the arm of his sofa. “You never told me that part, Eric.”
He simply shakes his head, ignoring me. “She’s not. Turn him,” he directs the men holding Bo on his feet.