Chapter 17
Jenny
The taste of real food still lingered in my memory, making my stomach growl painfully. Silent Guy’s burger had been the first thing in days that didn’t leave my head fuzzy and my thoughts scrambled. I’d started hiding the other meals they brought me, scraping the drugged food into the toilet when no one was watching, but hunger gnawed at me constantly now, a hollow ache that made it hard to concentrate.
I pressed my ear against the wall near the vent, counting footsteps in the hallway like Drake taught me. One-two-three-four. Pause. Turn. One-two-three-four-five. The rhythm was wrong for Silent Guy, who moved like he was counting each step. These footsteps were faster, angrier, with a slight shuffle that could only belong to British-not-British.
My heart pounded against my ribs as the footsteps stopped outside my door. I scrambled back to the bed, trying to look small and scared. It wasn’t hard—the scared part, anyway. The locks clicked open one by one, each sound making my pulse jump.
“Rise and shine, princess.” British-not-British pushed the door open with his foot, carrying a tray that smelled like the same gross oatmeal they’d been feeding me. His accent slipped when he was angry, sounding less British and more like those guys in movies from Boston or somewhere. “Breakfast of champions.”
I didn’t move, watching him from under my eyelashes the way I’d seen Bella do when she was sizing someone up at the gym. The scratchy blanket felt rough against my arms, and I pulled it closer despite the stuffy warmth of the room.
“Not hungry?” He set the tray down with a clatter that made me flinch. “That’s funny, because Silent type over there seems to think you’re starving.” His eyes narrowed, and I realized my mistake too late. Silent Guy’s burger. They knew.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice coming out smaller than I wanted. Mom always said I was a terrible liar. My brothers could fib their way out of anything, but my face always gave me away.
“Don’t play dumb with me.” British-not-British moved closer, his cologne making my nose itch. It smelled expensive but too strong, like he’d bathed in it. “We’ve been watching you. You haven’t eaten in days, then suddenly our friend brings you a little treat and you’re gobbling it down like it’s your last meal.” His smile made my skin crawl. “Which, who knows, maybe it was.”
My stomach twisted with fear, but I lifted my chin like Brody always told me to. “I want to call my mom.”
British-not-British laughed, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. “That’s adorable. Really.” He leaned down, his face inches from mine. “But you don’t get to make demands, little girl. You don’t get to do anything except sit there and be quiet until we decide what to do with you.”
“Why did you take me?” The question burst out before I could stop it. Mom always said my mouth worked faster than my brain. “What do you want?”
Something dark flashed in his eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?” He straightened, running a hand through his hair. “You’re insurance, kid. A way to keep certain people in line. But honestly? It’s getting old, playing babysitter to some brat.”
His words made my brain race. Insurance? Against what? I thought about what I’d overheard about an “inside guy” and tried to piece it together.
“I’m not eating your gross food because it makes me sick,” I said, changing the subject. It wasn’t entirely a lie—the drugged meals did make me feel awful.
“Oh? And I suppose you think you’re clever, flushing it away?” He moved closer, looming over me. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to eat every bite of this, or I’m going to force it down your throat myself.”
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst. “No.”
The word hung in the air between us. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Sensei always taught us to stand our ground. I couldn’t let them keep drugging me. I needed to stay alert if I was ever going to escape.
British-not-British went very still, the kind of stillness that comes right before something bad happens. When Tommy got that look, Jake and I knew to run.
“What did you just say to me?” His voice dropped to a whisper that scared me more than yelling would have.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I said no. It makes me sick. I won’t eat it.”
His hand moved so fast I didn’t see it coming. The slap knocked me sideways off the bed, pain exploding across my face as I slammed into the concrete wall. For a second, everything went fuzzy and dark around the edges, like when you stand up too fast and see stars.
I tasted blood where my teeth had cut into my cheek, metallic and warm. My ear rang from the impact, a high-pitched whine that made it hard to hear. The concrete floor scraped my palms as I tried to push myself up, my whole body trembling. Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back hard. I wouldn’t cry in front of him. I wouldn’t.
“You don’t say no to me,” British-not-British snarled, grabbing the front of my shirt and yanking me halfway up. His breath smelled like coffee and cigarettes, making my stomach heave. “You don’t say anything unless I tell you to speak. You’re nothing. Nobody. A piece of leverage that’s quickly outliving its usefulness.”
The door banged open, and through my watering eyes I saw Silent Guy standing there, his face like stone. The air in the room seemed to change, growing heavy with tension.
“What the hell are you doing?” Silent Guy’s voice was quiet but sharp. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow sounded more final than a slam.
British-not-British let go of my shirt, and I crumpled back to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. My cheek throbbed in time with my heartbeat, hot and swollen already.
“Teaching our guest some manners,” British-not-British said, his accent suddenly stronger, more polished. “She’s being difficult.”
Silent Guy moved further into the room, his eyes flicking to me briefly before focusing on British-not-British. “The boss was very clear. No damage to the merchandise.”
Merchandise. The word made me feel cold all over, even though the room was still too warm. Is that all I was to them? A thing they could sell or trade?
“She’s refusing to eat,” British-not-British said, gesturing to the untouched tray. “She knows the food is drugged. Been dumping it.”
Silent Guy’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his eyes. “You hit a child because she wouldn’t eat drugged food?” His voice carried a dangerous edge that made me shrink back against the wall. “That’s your solution? The boss wants her compliant, not brain-damaged.”
“The boss wants results,” British-not-British snapped. “It’s been weeks. He’s getting impatient.”
“So, you thought you’d take matters into your own hands?” Silent Guy crossed to where I lay, crouching down to my level. His movements were careful, measured, like he didn’t want to scare me. “Look at her face. How are we supposed to explain that in the next photo?”
British-not-British made a dismissive noise. “Photoshop.”
“Because that worked so well last time?” Silent Guy reached out slowly, his fingers gentle as he tilted my chin to examine my cheek. Unlike British-not-British, he smelled clean—soap and laundry detergent, normal smells that reminded me of home. “She needs ice. Now.”
“Do it yourself,” British-not-British sneered. “I’m not her nursemaid.”
Silent Guy stood up, turning to face him fully. Though he was shorter, something in his stance made British-not-British take a step back. “Get the ice. And tell Mr. Useless out there, I need to speak with him. Now.”
For a moment, I thought British-not-British might argue. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. But then he turned and stalked out, muttering something I couldn’t quite hear with my still-ringing ear.
Once he was gone, Silent Guy helped me back onto the bed, his touch careful but impersonal, like a doctor checking for injuries. “Where else does it hurt?” His voice was quiet, pitched just for my ears.
I touched my shoulder where I’d hit the wall. “Here. And my cheek.” Speaking made the cut inside my mouth throb.
He nodded, glancing at the door before leaning closer. “Listen carefully,” he whispered, his breath warm against my hair. “I can’t help you directly. But I’m working on it. You’re not alone.”
My heart stuttered in my chest, hope flaring so suddenly it almost hurt. “Who are you?” I breathed, barely audible.
He shook his head slightly, eyes darting to the camera in the corner. “Not now. Just know there are people looking for you. Good people. I’m so sorry for all of this. Just hang in there, okay?”
Footsteps approached in the hallway, and Silent Guy straightened, his face going blank again. Phone Guy appeared with a plastic bag of ice wrapped in a thin towel, looking annoyed at being summoned.
“Here,” he said, tossing the ice pack onto the bed. “Ass Hole said you wanted this.”
Silent Guy caught it before it could hit me, his movements quick and precise. “And I want you to make a note in the log. She was injured during questioning.”
Phone Guy’s eyes widened slightly as he took in my swollen cheek. “Shit. The boss is going to be pissed.”
“Yes, he is.” Silent Guy handed me the ice pack, guiding it to my face with surprising gentleness. The cold made me gasp, then sigh as it numbed the throbbing pain. “That’s why I want it documented who was responsible. When the boss asks why his investment is damaged, I want everyone to be clear on who did it.”
Phone Guy nodded, already backing toward the door. “Got it. Logged. Not my problem.” The door closed behind him, locks clicking back into place.
Silent Guy waited a moment, then spoke again, his voice so soft I had to strain to hear him over the ringing in my ear. “The food in your bathroom vent. They’ll find it soon. You need to eat something or you’ll be too weak.” He pressed something into my hand—a granola bar, the wrapper crumpled from being hidden in his pocket. “When I leave, hide this. Eat it when no one’s watching.”
I clutched the granola bar like it was made of gold, my fingers trembling. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet. Things are going to get worse before they get better.” His eyes met mine, serious and dark. “I need you to be brave for a little while longer. Can you do that?”
The way he asked reminded me of Sensei, when he was teaching us something difficult. Not doubting, just checking if we were ready for the challenge. I nodded, swallowing hard.
“Good.” He stood, moving toward the door. “One more thing. If they take you somewhere else—if anything changes—look for opportunities. Do you know the story of Hansel and Gretel? And how he left a trail of crumbs?”
I nodded my head, but before I could ask why, the door opened again and British-not-British reappeared, looking calmer but still angry around the eyes.
“Boss wants an update,” he said to Silent Guy, ignoring me completely. “Might want to explain why the merchandise is damaged.”
“I’ll handle it,” Silent Guy replied, voice cool and professional again. At the door, he paused, looking back at me. “The food stays. She eats or she doesn’t. No more force.”
British-not-British rolled his eyes but nodded. “Fine. Have it your way.”
Once they were gone, I quickly tucked the granola bar into the torn lining of my mattress, fingers searching for the small hole I’d made days ago with the paperclip. My hiding spot. The paper wrapper crinkled, and I froze, listening for footsteps, but the hallway remained quiet.
I lay back on the bed, pressing the ice pack to my throbbing cheek. Silent Guy’s words echoed in my mind. I wasn’t alone. People were looking for me. Good people.
My brothers had to be better by now. And Bella—Bella wouldn’t give up on finding me. Neither would Brody or Drake. They were the good people Silent Guy meant. They had to be.
The hopeful feeling lasted until evening, when the locks clicked open again and British-not-British returned, his face tight with anger. Phone Guy trailed behind him, looking uncomfortable. I sat up straight, the mattress creaking beneath me, my hands gripping the scratchy blanket.
“Well, well,” British-not-British said, closing the door behind him. “Quite the day we’ve had.” His accent slipped again, anger making it harder for him to maintain. “Thanks to your little tantrum and your pal’s interference, I got my ass handed to me by the boss.”
I stayed silent, remembering what Brody always said about not engaging with angry opponents. My cheek had faded from fiery pain to a dull throb, but I could feel how swollen it was, pulling my skin tight.
“Nothing to say?” He moved closer, and I fought the urge to shrink back. “That’s probably smart. The boss may want you in one piece, but he’s losing patience with this whole operation.” He glanced at Phone Guy. “Isn’t that right?”
Phone Guy shifted uncomfortably. “He said to remind you of the timeline. Three more days.”
“Three days,” British-not-British repeated, turning back to me with a smile that made ice form in my stomach. “Three days until what, you might wonder? Well, let me explain it to you, since you’re clearly not just a pretty face.” He tapped his watch. “In three days, if your friends haven’t rolled over and done what we want, this whole thing becomes…” He paused, sneering at me. “Well, let’s just say it all becomes unnecessary. Including you.”
My mouth went dry. “What do you want them to do?”
He laughed, the sound sending chills up my spine. “Smart girl. But that’s not your concern. Your only job is to sit here and look pathetic for the photos.” His smile vanished. “Although I have to say, I’m getting tired of playing nursemaid. Might be easier to just end this now, bury this problem somewhere deep, and move on to more… direct methods.”
Phone Guy looked alarmed. “The boss wouldn’t—”
“The boss isn’t here,” British-not-British cut him off. “And he’s not the one dealing with a stubborn brat who thinks she’s too good to eat what she’s given.” He turned back to me, eyes cold. “Three days, princess. Better hope your friends care enough to save you, because I’m running out of patience. And when I run out of patience…” He drew a finger across his throat, the gesture making my heart slam against my ribs.
They left without another word, the door closing with a final-sounding click. In the sudden silence, I could hear my own ragged breathing, too fast and shallow.
Three days.
I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. The words “direct methods” echoed in my head, making my stomach twist with fear. Whatever they wanted from Bella and the others must be terrible for them to threaten a kid.
As night fell and the room grew darker, I recalled Silent Guy’s words. Stay strong. Be brave. Remember the bread crumbs. I whispered them to myself, a mantra against the fear threatening to swallow me whole.
Three days to either be rescued or become unnecessary .
My hand found the small bump where I’d hidden the granola bar, the only tangible proof that someone was on my side. I had to believe Silent Guy was telling the truth. Had to believe help was coming.
Because if it wasn’t… I might not be going home at all.