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PART I

Chapter 1

The Diamond

Smell. The first of my senses to trickle in. I wish it were anything else because I'm instantly overwhelmed by the scent of body odor, spiced cologne, and what can only be described as the stench of evil incarnate.

And then my sixth sense seeps in, whispering notes of warning and urgency.

I’m in danger.

Those notes turn into a song full of screeching and loud noises, filling my body with heart-wrenching panic. Adrenaline spikes, and just barely do I have enough sense to remain as quiet as possible.

Slowly cracking open my crusted eyes, I’m greeted by complete darkness. It takes a second to process that there’s a blindfold strapped around my head.

Then, the blissful numbness I awoke in crumbles, and I lose my breath when all-consuming pain filters in, engulfing my body in absolute agony.

God, is this what being alive feels like? It can’t be death. I’d be at peace if it were. And I may have fallen for a stalker, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t land a spot within heaven’s gates.

I fucking earned that shit.

Racking my brain, I try to think past the pain and remember what the fuck happened to me. Vaguely, I recall text messages from Daya asking me to come over. The urgency I felt when she wasn’t answering my calls. Getting in my car, headlights, and panicking, being jerked forward, and then nothing.

And now I’m here… wherever that is. But not somewhere safe.

Christ, was that even Daya texting me? Did something happen to her too?

That possibility sends another wave of panic crashing through me. Scenarios curtail and evolve until I’m a mass of anxiety and desperation. She could be hurt or in serious trouble.

Fuck—I’m hurt and in serious trouble, and I’ve no idea how the fuck I’m going to get out of it.

My breathing is escalating further, and my heart is beating so heavily, it physically hurts as it slams against my chest. It takes what little strength I have left to keep silent.

Where the fuck am I?

Where's Zade?

Quiet, dull voices are next, muffled by the noise in my ears but steadily growing louder. I strain my ears, trying to hear over the beat of my heart and the pain swelling in my body like a water balloon.

Somehow the agony has a voice too, and it’s fucking loud.

“Z will be looking for her,” one man says quietly. “But we’ll be fine once we get to Garrison’s and chuck the van. We’ll get her there quickly.”

A particular memory knocks me over the head, flashes of being dragged out of my car and the residual pain of glass and metal biting through my skin. It explains why my back is on fire.

I’ve been fucking kidnapped—obviously. This had to have been the Society’s doing. Zade had said they targeted me, and I know he had guards stationed outside of Parsons Manor. They must have used Daya to draw me out, which means there’s a high chance she’s been taken, too.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

I didn’t even stop to consider it could be a trap when Daya wasn’t answering the phone. I was so intent on getting to her in case she was hurt or in trouble that it wasn’t even a consideration to call Zade. Not only could it have saved me, but it also could have saved Daya, too.

I squeeze my eyes shut as a sob crawls up my throat. A tear slips through my lashes, and my chest shakes with exertion, trying not to break down. This was my own damn fault.

Zade warned me countless times they were after me, and the first trap they set, I walked right into.

You’re such an idiot, Addie. Such a fucking idiot.

“You actually think we'll be able to hide her from him? It’s fucking Z, man,” another man responds, this one with a slight Hispanic accent.

“We’re just giving the Society what they asked for. Which one are you more afraid of? Them

or Z?”

Fuck, it was the goddamn Society. I knew it, but hearing it confirmed only sends a fresh dose of adrenaline into my system.

I don’t know why I got tossed into this shit, but they need to take me out of this fucked-up salad of depravity; I don’t belong here. I belong in a salad full of fruits and vegetables. Healthy things that don’t run me off the road and enslave me.

The second man mutters, “I’d prefer not to fucking choose.”

It sounds like a hand slapping someone’s shoulder or back as if to reassure him. “Too bad you don’t have a choice, Rio. Doesn’t matter. This girl right here is worth millions. I mean, we got a fucking diamond here. Just imagine it, dude—Z's girl, the one and only, up on an auction stage. You know how many enemies he has? People will be frothing at the mouth to make his girl their little toy. I’ll get my cut from Max, and the Society will compensate you, I’m sure. We’ll be living fucking lavishly.” He lets out a burst of hyena-like laughter. “I can buy my own goddamn private island after the money goes through!”