Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
VIOLET
“Help!”
My voice is rough, throat hurting from screaming and yelling. My bare feet numb from the cold cement floor beneath my feet.
I’m thirsty. I want water, but I want freedom even more.
“Help!” I bang my fists on the heavy door of what feels like a dungeon cell.
“Let me out!” I bang harder. Scream louder. “Help me! Somone! Please!”
I stop and listen.
Not a sound.
I go over everything again, from the moment the men burst in, hit Cade, and took me.
The long, long ride with a bag that smelled of old oranges and cigarette smoke over my head, my hands tied along with my feet.
Because I guess the thug next to me got tired of holding me down, of getting kicked, of me trying to get the bag off my head.
It chafed my throat, and I can still feel where he tightened the string that held the bag in place.
Then they threw me down here, cut the ties, and left the bag on my head.
I had to pull it off.
Taking a deep breath, I look around for the millionth time, trying to take in the space and work out where I am.
But I come to the exact same conclusion every single time.
It looks like a dungeon or a cell of some kind.
And that terrifies me.
A sob rises in my throat, and I swallow it down. “You will not, under any circumstances, cry.”
My self-command is fierce, but it’s hard to follow as my eyes blur.
I slam my fists against the door again and again, hoping for…I don’t even know what.
Someone to rescue me?
I don’t even know where the fuck I am.
“Help! Help! Hello? Help! Someone, please!”
No one answers me, and nothing seems to move.
Is this a basement?
We came down steps, not that many. As we progressed, me on the big man’s shoulder, his hand on my ass, holding me in place, his footsteps echoed a tiny bit. Then we went down…a hall?
All of a sudden, this door was flung open, and I was tossed in.
So, this must be a cell. And maybe there are more. A whole row. Waiting for future victims.
There isn’t even a toilet.
Just a cot with a thin blanket and a flat, horrible stained pillow. I don’t think about that.
No toilet…
I breathe in deep, but the air’s just stale. It doesn’t smell like pee or anything else.
So, a holding cell? Or maybe they just give you bathroom breaks on a set schedule.
I don’t want to be here anymore.
I want Cade.
“Open this door! Now!” Nothing. “Please!”
I don’t even know what the hell is going on.
Cade…oh Jesus, is he okay?
My stomach turns, and I want to throw up. If they hurt him or worse, I—
Another sob rises, this one bursting free.
No. Cade’s okay, he has to be. It’s…it’s Cade.
I turn and start to pace, shoving a hand at my mouth.
The coppery taste of blood hits my mouth.
My hand hurts. I’m sure it’s swollen, my knuckles are raw.
I think…I think I’ve been down here for hours, and no one’s stirred. Not one sound from beyond the door. But again, the walls are stone. The door thick wood.
I wish I knew who took me, took us. I don’t even know if this was targeted or random.
But if I really think about it, I know.
Of course, it’s targeted. Cade had Isaac killed. He clearly knows bad people. He’s mixed up in bad things.
He’s The Ghost.
Which means, he’s the target because I very much think The Ghost has enemies. And god knows Cade probably does too, in whatever he and Enzo do.
He’s The Ghost.
If he’s caught, what hope is there for me?
A mad thought comes to me. I don’t believe it. Not even for a second. But desperation takes hold, and I bang my fists against the door some more. And this time, I scream one word.
“Cement!”
Cade doesn’t appear like dark magic. Because he’d never take it this far.
This isn’t sexy. This is absolutely terrifying.
Finally, I sink down to the floor, rubbing my bleeding hands on my dress, and another sob bubbles up.
“Please, please, someone, help me. Help Cade. Please—”
I stop the babble that keeps the tears at bay.
Voices grow then fade, and then it’s silent.
I open my mouth to scream yet again when the door screeches open, and a burly man appears.
He tosses a foil wrapped something at me along with a bottle of water that I have to duck so it doesn’t hit me.
“Shut your fucking mouth, or I’ll slice out your tongue.”
I rear back into the wall, clamping my mouth shut.
The door slams.
I believe he’ll carry out his threat.
Slowly, I pick up the foil thing.
It’s a sandwich. Cheese and stale brown bread.
I’m not hungry, I’m too worked up to be hungry, too nauseous to want to even think of eating. but I sniff it, and peel back the bread.
Literally cheese and bread. Not even butter. So, it’ll keep.
I wrap it carefully, tearing off enough foil to ball up like I ate it, and I slide the sandwich under the blanket in case they don’t feed me again. In case I’m in here for days.
Then I take a few sips of water, forcing myself not to gulp it down like I’m parched.
I don’t have on a watch, and I don’t have my phone…I don’t even have shoes or a bra on for crying out loud…so, I don’t know how much more time passes, but I get up, moving about, pacing the room like a girl on a quest to reach her daily steps.
When I’m tired of that, I go back to banging at the door and shouting for help.
I change it up with shouted demands to be freed. And then move on to threats.
Nothing at all.
And it pisses me off.
Someone must be out there.
“You fuckers,” I scream, voice cracking. “Open this door and let me out, or you’ll be sorry!”
I start kicking the door, too, but stop because it hurts horribly.
Stepping back, I take another sip of water and drag in a breath to start screaming again when I hear something.
A voice.
Whispering to me through the wall.
“What the…?” I look around. “Hello?”
“Please don’t.”
It’s a girl, and I rush to the wall on my right, putting my hands on it, searching for a hole or a crack.
Her voice is faint and scared, and I can’t really hear it. She must have taken a risk with the ‘please don’t’, because I heard that.
I search the wall over and over until I find it.
Down the bottom in the middle is a crack and a small hole, a tiny spot of light is different to mine, so faint I didn’t notice.
I drop to my knees and try to see through, but it’s too small.
I put my mouth there. “Hello?”
There’s a sob, and she says, “Please, you need to stop yelling, or they’ll kill you. So, please don’t.”
I start to shake. “Okay, I’ll stop.” I place my hands against the wall, licking my lips. “I’m Vi. You are?”
She says something that sounds like Jean, but it’s so soft I don’t quite catch it. Jean it is, then.
“Nice to meet you. Though I wish the circumstances were better.”
She must move, because I hear her a little better. “Me, too.”
“Do you know where we are?”
“No.”
I nod.
It’s becoming clear Jean’s had no one to talk to for a long time, and it hurts my heart. I don’t know why she’s here, but it can’t be good. “How long…how long have you been here do you think?”
“When…what’s the date?”
“June thirteenth.”
The girl’s silent a long time, and then she says, her voice cracking, “Eight months. Almost to the day. I remember the date I was kidnapped.”
“Every girl would.”
But there’s not even a drop of laughter. Not that I blame her. There’s nothing funny about this. At all.
“Do you know why?” I ask.
“I’m to be sold. Into slavery.” She doesn’t sound bitter. Just defeated. Flat. “I used to be just like you, Vi. I tried to fight, but…but they stopped me.”
I don’t ask how they broke her. I don’t want to know, and I suspect she doesn’t want to tell me.
Beatings. Torture, the kind that won’t mar her at all permanently. Except psychologically.
I swallow, hard. “Hang in there.”
She doesn’t answer.
Poor girl. I’ve been here hours and I’m already going crazy. How did she hang on for months?
“If I get out, I’ll come back and help, I promise.”
But she’s gone silent on me, like the conversation drained her. Or it’s all she dares to do.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll try again later.
I mean what I said, and I make a vow to myself. If—no. When I get out if this alive, I’ll come back and save her.
Then I lean back against the wall and close my eyes and pray.
Pray that Cade’s still alive and on his way to rescue me.