Page 7

The room was barren, aside from the bed and a small round coffee table.

The only window had a thick piece of plywood across it to prevent me from escaping or seeing out—probably both.

I sat there in that dimly lit cell with nothing to distract me. I sat there for minutes, hours, maybe even days, and with nothing to busy myself with, my mind ran wild. I never knew silence could be so loud.

I missed my friends.

And I missed him.

I missed my shadow, the reaper at my back who watched over me without wanting anything in return. I could make myself blissfully and deliriously numb to my surroundings if I filled my every thought with nothing but Grimm.

If I saw him in a dream, he was always torn away when I woke again, and I was never ready to say goodbye.

I’d honestly expected him to come for me out of everyone else, but he hadn’t shown up yet.

Noah’s ominous taunt became the focal point of a slow growing paranoia. I had no idea what he had planned for me. I wasn’t adept at dealing with things like this.

I told myself to think positive thoughts, but the hope I kept a firm grasp on was beginning to slip through my fingers.

Chapter Three

Nothing tragic happened that morning.

I woke from the sound of the door clicking shut with heavy sleep in my eyes from fighting it off for so long. A silver tray with oatmeal and a fruit cup sat waiting for me on the coffee table—another regularity, and my only breakfast option.

Noon came around, bringing me closer to whatever it was Noah wanted. I was able to pretend all was fine for a few minutes as I brushed my teeth and hair.

My actions may have seemed pointless, but I knew I needed to eat for my own well-being, and keeping somewhat clean was my way of refusing to fall apart completely.

I guess you could say it was a façade.

As soon as I was done, I was left with the same problem I always had: nothing to do but sit on my ass and wonder what was gonna happen next. I leaned back on the bed, listening to the movement throughout the house we were holed up in.

I heard multiple voices, but that was nothing new. I theorized all the possible scenarios as to what Noah could be up to in the long run, but continued to pull a blank.

Keeping me was strange in itself. He knew who I was, and made no effort to contact my father for a ransom or power exchange. He’d once said I was his collateral, a reason for Romero not to hunt him down, but that didn’t explain much, either.

We both knew if his brother wanted him dead, he’d be dead.

With no way of knowing what time it was, I tried to use basic math as a timetable for when the sun traded places with the moon. Still, nothing happened—not right away, anyway.

I was half-asleep when they showed up; four men I’d never seen strolled into the room with Noah right behind them.

My danger radar immediately went through the roof, as did the tempo of my pulse. I could nearly feel it in my throat. All of em had on the usual dark jeans and dark shirts men in the Badlands wore, but they were too rough around the edges to be anyone Noah regularly associated with.

“What is this?” I asked, sitting a little taller and pressing my back flat against the worn headboard.

“Petals, these are my new friends,” Noah announced, making his way to the front of the little group, prod in his hand.

“We both know damn well you don’t have any friends. Cut the shit and tell me what’s really goin on.”

Two of the men laughed at my accurate assumption, while the biggest one gave me a smile full of surprisingly white teeth. That’s what I got for jumping to conclusions.

He looked rugged.

Looking at him a little closer, I took notice of the tattoo on his neck—a V with a black snake intertwined around it. I also realized he was much older than I was, but his overall hygiene didn’t seem bad.

None of that explained why they were in the room with me. I looked at their faces, and suddenly had an inkling of where this was going.