Page 24

Chapter 24

Fleur

I chip away at a crater in the concrete. My nail has whittled down to nothing as I drag it mindlessly over the rough patch of mortar.

Liam hasn’t been back since yesterday, which is most likely for the best. I smell. The whole cell burns with every breath I take. The putrid air is stagnant and carries with it a mix of my own body odor that makes me gag. I’ve run my fingers through my hair in thought and worry so many times it’s tangled in too many places.

My stomach rumbles, the gurgle echoing in the silent cell, and I almost miss the thumping music from last night. It drowned out the pains of hunger and the incessant thoughts.

I’m starting to panic—really panic. I half had it in my head they’d let me go by now, perhaps feed me. Each minute that passes stifles my hope, and the words Blitz threatened becomes a bit more real. Dead .

Liam’s presence last night was a morbid comfort. My gut nudges me to trust him, that he doesn’t want me hurt, or want his brother hurt. I cling to that. He gave up six years for his brother. That has to mean there is good in him somewhere. Whether it has been snuffed out is another question.

Halfway through the day, I realize no water has been delivered this morning, and when the door to the hallway opens, two distinct voices filter through. I further realize it is on purpose I didn’t receive any water. They’re going to move me.

Two men, who were there the night of the fire, approach the cell and unlock it. There isn’t any lust in their eyes. In fact, they purposefully avoid meeting my gaze. I grip at the hem of the shirt I’m wearing. What is happening?

They move toward me, and instinctively, I back up running into the cold wall behind me. It’s pointless, but my body reacts anyway when they grip each of my arms, twisting them around my back and gripping my elbows. My whole body stiffens at their rough touches, demanding me forward.

After a couple of days here, I finally emerge from the cell I’ve been hidden behind. But, even though I’m out, I feel more vulnerable than I did tucked neatly away. I’m utterly exposed, with no idea where I am.

Shuffled through a door, I’m pushed up a set of stairs, the climb putting a strain on my weakened muscles. Although it hasn’t been that long, I can already feel the effects of no food impacting my body. Each step is a chore, and by the time I arrive at the top, I’m dizzy and panting.

We arrive in a dimly lit hallway with a flashing neon sign outside one door toward the end of the hallway. Unfortunately, I’m dragged to the opposite end before I can read what it says. A metal door with red letters stenciled on it reads EXIT, and when the door is shoved open, the damp, humid heat hits me. I shiver. The exact opposite reaction to the sweltering summer night I should be having.

An enormous firepit stands proudly off the side of the concrete patio we’ve stepped onto. Curvebacked Adirondack chairs are scattered around the pit, and one or two guys sit around the fire sipping a beer. They make an effort to glance up but go back to their conversation, not paying me any mind. This sort of thing must happen a lot for them to ignore a girl being dragged outside by both of her elbows.

Moving my head around to view as much as possible, I’m shocked that this looks like a teen summer camp the way it’s laid out. Small cabins encircle the building we exited, with slender lamp posts highlighting the larger warehouses and metal buildings far off in the distance. Several motorcycles are parked in a line to the right of where we exited the building, and I’d gamble this was their main meeting point.

However, beyond it all is the thickening of dense forest pine. A foreboding woods doused in twilight with only thin slivers of moonlight breaking through the tops and rustling branches. It spans all around the camp. The only breakthrough is the gravel road leading to a gate I can barely make out in the stretch between.

We’ve stopped moving, and one of the men is on the phone as if waiting for instructions. When he hangs up, I’m pushed through the gravel and into the woods. Light from the cabins and fire slowly fades away until my eyes adjust to more of the dark. Pine needles smash beneath my feet, the condensed carpet muffling our footsteps.

The two men weave me through the trees, and if it weren’t for their nonchalant demeanor, I’d be afraid they’re planning to take me in the middle of the woods for their own pleasure. They’re following someone else’s orders, however, and I catch them counting the pines as if they’re plotting their directions to get to their destination.

The distinct aroma of pine grows stronger the deeper we trudge through the woods. Gnarled branches snag on my legs, and it isn’t long before bright light assaults my vision as streams intrude through the ink of night. Substantial-sized flood lights, angled in different directions, illuminate a clearing ahead of us.

Dread coils in my belly, squeezing my stomach into a ball of knots. A group of what looks like over fifteen men stand in a semi-circle around something … is that a tripod? I swallow.

The two men at my side march me into the clearing and toss me to the ground. Dirty boots step into the rust-colored dirt beneath my hands, the dust of it kicking up into my face.

When I raise my head, I meet the intense gaze of Blitz, who has a sinister smile spread wide across his face. His head is angled down at me, the speckled night sky fanning out behind him, uninhibited by the gap in the trees.

He crouches down, and I find I can’t look away from the pride in his face. He knows something I don’t.

“Adam was discharged from the hospital this morning,” he says, the words smooth and coaxing. “He was informed of your … predicament and it seems he has vanished.” Blitz clicks his tongue and gestures around us with his hands. “Seems he hasn’t had the proper motivation yet, has he, boys?”

He doesn’t look at me again. Instead, he stands, moving out of my vision. I scan the group of men for Liam, searching for him as if he could offer me any salvation. But I don’t see him. He isn’t here. I land pleading eyes on each of the men, most of them meeting my plea with a snarl or a wicked smirk. A few offer me a slight frown, as if they’re thinking of their sisters in this moment and are worried about what might happen with me.

The sound of damp dirt being sliced through next to me beckons my attention, and I turn to find a shovel pushed into the earth, it standing tall beside me.

“You’re going to dig for him. Dig your own hole six feet deep,” Blitz says from behind me, but I don’t turn to look at him. Tears sting my cracked lips as they fall down my face. I don’t cry out or scream, but inside I’m screeching. “Turn the camera on. Let’s show Adam what his girl has to do. If he doesn’t pay, she’ll end up digging her own grave.”

For a moment, I wonder what they would do if I sat here and didn’t move. Didn’t placate their twisted ways for money they probably don’t need. What if I didn’t play their game, refused to dig my own grave?

I don’t move.

A few men murmur something I can’t hear, while Blitz moves into my vision again and yanks me up by my hair. I yelp at the prickling on my scalp, and Blitz throws down a handful of my hair to the ground, the blond strands almost looking white against the Mississippi red dirt.

“It would be a shame for Mom and Dad to also pay the price for Adam’s stupidity.” My eyes widen as he rattles off my parents’ address in Michigan and gives me a toothy smile. He shoves the shovel into my hands and pushes me into the middle of the clearing, where all the men leer around me.

I press a hand to my belly, the rolling nausea ruining my resolve. “Please,” I beg. I’m not above it at this point. This is torture.

I haven’t eaten in days, but I swear I can taste the grits I had for breakfast several days prior in the back of my throat. I’m going to be sick. My nails dig into my free hand’s palm, and I claw at myself, stabbing mini half moons in my skin.

Despite the heaviness of the late summer air, a gust of wind brushes past me and I suck in a breath. The humid air dries my parched throat, and I cough.

“Dig!” one of the men yells out, and a few chuckles rise into the quiet night air.

I whimper, and scan over everyone again, seeking Liam out. They land back on Blitz, who curls his lips in disgust, a knowing look indicates he’s aware of who I was searching for.

My heart thumps wildly in my chest. My ribs are caving in, smashing my lungs until I can no longer breathe.

I can no longer breathe, but I lift the shovel and slice into the earth anyway.

The clink of the steel on each rock vibrates the handle and sends a shockwave up each arm. The shirt I’m wearing is drenched in sweat and I’ve made it less than two feet into the ground. Each stab into the body-sized rectangle is met with resistance as the top dirt turns into red clay, hard and gritty.

Only two men have left the circle surrounding me, claiming boredom and aching to get back to the multitude of women around here somewhere.

I listen intently, trying to focus on snippets of their conversation like that may somehow help me.

It’s not.

They’re talking about their next lay and shipments from down south. Two things that do nothing to help my fractured spirit.

“Dig faster.” Blitz comes over, checking that the red light is still lit on the camera recording my progress. Footage meant to encourage Adam to pay up.

If he hasn’t paid yet, he isn’t going to pay. I want to be mad at him. In my mind, I call him a lazy coward, but in reality, why would a man who’s known me for only two months come to my rescue? Why would he care about me when he allowed his own brother to pay his debt price—with his soul.

“I can’t,” I hiss out. Sweat and tears mingle together to swamp my face. “The ground is too hard for me to move any faster.”

Snickers rumble around me as I focus back on the hole I’m digging. While it’s true the red dirt is hard and unyielding, I’m also stalling. Every few minutes, I get the urge to chuck the shovel and bound into the woods. When I think the men are distracted enough, I count down from ten, but usually around the number three, they have refocused their attention on me. I’ve tried over five times.

Another hour passes and I want to fall in exhaustion. I’ve had no food or water, which means zero fuel for this pointless torture. I lean into my shovel, eyes rolling back in my head as I sway, trying to gather my strength and bearings.

Through my hazy vision, the men part, and my breath catches as Liam strides into the clearing, moving quickly. Both of his arms swing at his sides, reflecting the long strides he’s taking toward Blitz. Hair pulled into a bun exposes his severe expression. Lips pulled taut into a scowl, his eyes narrow on where I cling to the shovel like it’s my lifeline instead of the tool digging my death.

“Blitz!” His cold tone pierces the enjoyment of the other guys, and they fall silent. “What the hell is going on?” His eyes flick to the camera and he slows, eyes skirting around the outline I’ve dug in the ground and landing on me. He says nothing as he turns back to Blitz.

“Motivating your brother to pay up. That’s what is going on,” he answers.

“Not going to do much good if you bury her in the ground.”

Reality crashes over me, and warmth seeps through my pants, trailing uncomfortably down the insides of my legs. I lower my head and eyes embarrassed and craving privacy. I’m terrified, and I just peed myself.

Glancing to the side, most of the men are trained on the exchange between Liam and Blitz. They don’t notice my now wet jeans. But when I look back at Liam, his eyes are on me, lowering to my pants. His jaw works back and forth. Heat roars to life in my cheeks and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying the tears don’t fall again.

“Who knows,” Blitz continues, “maybe we’ll all just take a turn to show Adam what he’s really missing.”

Liam doesn’t hesitate. As fast as I could snap my fingers, he reaches behind him and pulls out a pistol, the sleek black metal aimed straight at Blitz’s face.