Page 36

36

Reagan

Through the small, barred window, daylight fades. But even night does nothing to cool the basement. Heat hangs heavy in the air. So thick it’s hard to breathe.

My tailbone digs into the dirt floor with how I’m sitting, so I try to readjust myself. But nothing is comfortable.

As if being locked in here isn’t bad enough, the waves of nausea rocking through me make it feel like the room is spinning. I’ve managed not to puke, but each time my stomach turns, my vision blurs, and I almost lose my battle. Aimee warned me to hide my pregnancy, but I can’t figure out how I’ll do that for long with how lightheaded and sick I’ve been today.

“You good?” Aimee glances over when I flinch at another wave of nausea.

She’s sitting in her cell, facing the staircase like I am. Her messy brown hair is pulled off her face, showing off her dirty cheeks and exhausted gaze .

“I’ll be fine,” I lie. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple of days.” She rests her head back on the bars and closes her eyes. “They bring water and food every morning. And then around midday, they move whoever is leaving.”

“Where do they move them to?” I glance around at the other cells, where two girls are sitting like we are, and another is curled in a ball, crying.

The girl on my right glances in my direction, but her stick-straight black hair nearly shields her chilling blue eyes. Unlike Aimee, she hasn’t said anything to me since I arrived, but I sense her watching everything.

“I don’t know where they take them.” Aimee tucks her hair behind her ears. “All I know is they don’t come back.”

“It sounds like they plan on moving me soon.” I swallow hard.

Aimee’s frown deepens. “Maybe they won’t.”

“Or maybe Jesse will find me first.” Hope might be wasted, but it’s all I have.

After all, I know in my bones that Jesse is looking for me. I know the lengths he’ll go to for the people he cares about. It might have scared me at first, but now I understand it for what it is.

“Maybe,” Aimee whispers, not sounding as sure.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” There’s no road noise.

No sounds apart from the voices upstairs.

“The middle of the desert.”

“And the men who took us…”

Aimee’s expression pinches. “The Iron Sinners? ”

“That’s what they call themselves?”

“You really are new to all this shit, aren’t you?” Her eyebrows pull, and I nod. “Let’s just say they aren’t fans of the Twisted Kings, which is why you’re here.”

“And you?”

“The Iron Sinners have lots of enemies.” Aimee sighs. “But that’s not always the problem. Sometimes being on their side is just as dangerous.”

I’m about to ask her if she’s saying she’s with the club that took me, and if so, why they would have her locked in a cage, but the door at the top of the stairs opens, cutting me off.

Aimee and I both pull ourselves to our feet. My head swims, and my body aches from being cramped, hungry, and dehydrated, but I bury it down.

The girl with the raven-black hair does the same, flattening her back against the edge of the cell, laser-focused on the man making his way down the staircase.

I should probably avert my gaze and not draw attention to myself, but I can’t help watching his every move as his boots knock around the dust on the wooden steps.

All I have to do is survive long enough for Jesse to find me. If I’m moved, I don’t think he’ll be able to.

The biker pauses at the bottom step, lit only by the single bulb overhead. I don’t recognize him as any of the ones I’ve seen before, but his hard gaze covers my arms in goose bumps. His broad shoulders stretch his leather cut, and his arms are littered with demonic images .

He ties his black hair in a ponytail at the base of his skull, scanning the room slowly. His dark, beady eyes pause on each of the cages, and when his attention skips to me, my chest tightens.

The musky heat of the room almost makes me lose my balance as I’m hit with another wave of nausea. Gripping the hard, rusted bars behind me, I barely manage to stay upright.

“Not yet, baby.” The biker winks at me, and bile rises in my throat.

I’m both relieved and terrified as he turns toward the cell at the far left of the room. The girl inside is still lying down, curled in a ball. Her blonde hair is filthy and matted, and her sobs rack through her body harder with each step he takes.

She doesn’t sit up until he reaches the door to her cell and pulls out his key.

“Please don’t.” She scrambles to the back of her cell, curling her knees to her chest like there’s anything she can do to stop him. “Please.”

“Boss wants to see you, honey.” The man reaches in and grabs her by the hair on the top of her head, yanking her up.

She collapses against him, barely catching herself as her knees skid across the ground.

“Leave her alone.” Aimee grips the bars at the front of her cell.

But unlike when she helped protect me, we’re too far away for her to do anything about it .

“You can’t.” The blonde stumbles as the biker pulls her to standing; her knees drip with streaks of blood.

“Didn’t take you for a fighter.” The biker grins.

She throws a weak punch at his groin but misses, which only sparks his amusement. He wraps his hand around her wrist, and the snap of it breaking is only drowned out by her scream.

“No.” I clasp my hand over my mouth while tears spill down my cheeks.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Aimee says, even if it’s barely audible through the screaming. Her tone is deathly calm. There are no tears. Nothing but pure rage radiates from her. “You all will.”

“Don’t worry, Aimee, you’ll get your turn.” The biker winks at her, holding the blonde in his arms now because she passed out from the pain.

I watch as he carries her up the stairs, and I slowly retreat into my cell. My back hits the bars, and the taste of vomit fills my mouth. But I manage to keep it down. Even as the basement door slams behind him, and Aimee drops to the floor again, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest.

Even as we all sit in silence, haunted by the scream of the blonde waking up.

Screaming that doesn’t stop for hours.